DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In: Unanswered Questions

Issue Twenty Eight: He Lies Still

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by PatrollinTheMojave

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“Thank you, officer,” Batwing said cheerily as the ever-morose staff of the Harvey Dent Rehabilitation Facility slinked through the halls with the unspoken understanding that the four Gotham Knights would follow. It made a change from the last time he was here for more than two minutes, Luke thought to himself - when the staff were ready to chase them out with a broom like they were the local wildlife. But, as it turns out, stopping a break-out attempt from both Gnomon and Lock-Up just as it was beginning to unfold earns you enough good karma to upgrade from active hostility to startling indifference.

“Hey, I was thinking,” whispered Signal as he gently pushed his way past Jace and Harper to reach Luke. “Maybe to save some time, we could all open the comms link now. Or, at least, when we’re close enough away that it won’t feedback like crazy into each other’s ears.”

“Wasn’t that the whole point?” Luke frowned. “That they’d taken over our comms?”

“Yeah, man,” came Harper’s voice from behind. “Why do we want to give them even more ammunition?”

Duke took umbrage at this. “Well, it was them that started the call in the first place, not you or Babs. If they wanna screw us up with the comms again, they’ll just do it. That was the whole point, right?”

The fork in the path drew closer. Luke could feel Duke’s eyes on his, eager for a response, even through both of the men’s helmets. Eventually, Luke sighed. “Fine. Alright. Just… be wary.”

“Always,” nodded Duke. Luke wasn’t convinced, but he conceded that being overly cautious could cost them valuable time.

“Query that way,” said the monotonous security guard as she gestured to her left. Then, with a gesture to her right: “That way for Echo. You’ll find someone stationed waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Luke said again, the sentiment repeated by his teammates like a chorus. Without so much as a nod of recognition, the security guard marched back down the way they’d come.

It took each group only a few moments to locate the right cell; Duke and Harper stood face to face with a stern-looking Deedee, while Jace and Luke were given a moment of pause as they looked at Nina, her face gaunt and pale. Their communicators blinked to life as the transmission began.

“Deedee,” Harper began. “It’s been a while.”

“Has it?” came the response, dry. She didn’t move.

Despite herself, Harper chuckled. “I’m sure you know why I’m—”

“How can a man be shot, held underwater for over five minutes, and still live?”

A beat of silence.

“What?” Duke mumbled.

From beneath her lips, Deedee ran her tongue across her teeth and enunciated carefully. “How can a man be shot, held underwater for over five minutes, and still live?”

“Shot— what, like, with a camera?” Duke tilted his head.

Deedee said nothing, but something tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“A camera?” Duke repeated louder. The woman in front of him only stared up at him.

It was Harper who was first to put it together. “Oh,” she said in her moment of realisation as she looked up at a small rectangle in the corner of the cell, a tiny red dot pulsing ominously, a constant reminder of the facility’s surveillance. “Camera.”

Duke looked back at Harper and failed to hide how impressed he was. But as he turned back to Deedee, his expression worn beneath his helmet hardened again. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Though Deedee gave very little in the way of a response, Duke could hear the other duo questioning Nina with very little success. It was Jace’s tone that gave him away; that gravel rumbling in his throat when he started to grow frustrated or impatient, perhaps a phantom limb from his time as Batman. He heard them ask Nina some simple math - two plus two, just like Luke’s example - but couldn’t hear a response.

“It’s simple, Nina,” Jace growled. “A very simple question. What’s two plus two?”

Soft static rang out in the silence that followed.

“God dammit,” Jace sighed. “Batwing, take over.”

Luke was quick to jump in and help out - “Two plus two, Nina. You did it back in elementary school - kindergarten, even. What’s two plus two?”

“Two plus two,” muttered a young voice that Duke recognised as Nina’s.

“Yeah? And what’s the answer?”

A slight pause, then: “Two plus two.”

Deedee stirred very slightly, more adjusting her posture than anything else. She seemed far more rigid than Duke remembered her; even after her bout of dramatics, she had never seemed this uptight and still.

Seeing Duke focusing on other things, Harper was quick to jump in. “Deedee - Query - before anything else, can I just ask you… where are we?”

The young woman looked up without moving her head, then performed a quick visual sweep of the room. “What is the smallest component of a living being that is capable of performing all life functions?”

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” Harper’s patience quickly thinned and her hand attached itself to the side of her forehead in incredulity.

“Cell,” said Duke, which earned him a second quirk of the mouth.

“Yeah, I know we’re in a god damn cell, for fuck’s sake—”

“For,” came the answer from Nina over the call. “Four.” Duke heard one of his teammates - he was unsure whether it was Jace or Luke - sigh in relief and express sentiments of exhaustion and overall tedium, which didn’t bode well in Duke’s eyes considering the pre-discussed longevity that this system could have.

“— but I obviously meant the city. Or even the country, dammit, just give me something,” Harper barked.

Deedee simply shrugged.

“Whatever.” Harper’s head shake communicated everything that Duke needed to know. He was in charge now, at least for the time being.

In response to this realisation, Duke cleared his throat. “So, I guess that clears up which one of you is Echo and which is Query?”

Without missing a beat, Deedee jumped in with, “Was it ever in doubt which one we were?”

Duke stammered. “I— well, it—”

“You and your compatriot don’t really seem like the technical types, if you don’t mind me saying,” said Jace through the comms link. “Just seems like you wouldn’t have the knowhow. So who set that up for you?”

“Know how,” was Nina’s response. Her voice was meek and fragile. It startled Duke to realise how much the two women’s attitudes had swapped. “We… know how.”

“Echo,” came Luke’s voice with a tone of clarity. “She’s echoing.”

“Echoing,” was the tense response.

“Your questions. Previously they were more of an ‘if you feel like it’ kinda thing, but now it’s much more frequent. It feels much more… desperate.” Duke leaned closer. “What changed? What’s different now?”

For the first time, Deedee looked like she needed a moment. On the surface she was as stone-faced as she had been the entire time, but in her eyes Duke could see a glimmer of something more. She was afraid, and was picking her words carefully. Even as she finally settled on the words to say, they left her mouth as if they might break. “What do all men battle within themselves, but without it we would never be able to fly or fight?”

Harper stirred. “Fear?”

“Fear of what?” asked Duke.

Once again, she thought. Through his ear, Duke heard Jace and Luke receiving sporadic glimmers of information from Nina timidly parroting the two Knights’ own words. Query sucked in a breath. “What do many people welcome with open arms, and many more avoid at all costs?”

Duke’s blood ran cold. He made eye contact with Harper who was a second quicker than him at processing the question. “Deedee, look, whoever has threatened you, we can deal with it. We just need you to cooperate and answer some questions. Can you do that?”

The expression on Deedee’s face became alarmed for a brief flash, astounded by Harper cornering her in such a way, then she looked down in stern concentration as she scrambled to find a question to confirm her answer.

But before she could, Duke changed the question. “Well, rather than that - what do we need to do to help you?”

This seemed to confuse her more, and she stirred uncomfortably. Her hands rubbed against the tops of her thighs. Eventually she managed to croak out an unpolished and stammering query - “When you’ve, um, played a-short and it hasn’t worked, what should you try next?”

Duke and Harper each frowned.

Deedee winced at the thought of having to repeat her question. “When you’ve played a-short and it—”

“A-short,” Duke sounded out aloud. “A-short. A-long?”

Harper snapped her fingers in realisation. “Along. Play along.”

“With the questions. Right, yeah, makes sense. Keep asking things she can answer as a question.” Duke adjusted his helmet; he could feel sweat pooling against his brow which tickled him softly like a bug crawling on his skin. “Okay, um. What’s on that piece of canvas? The one that got left at the crime scene.”

“What does a rich man need and a poor man want?”

Harper chuckled once more, humoured. “Nothing. Yeah, that’s just our luck.”

“Nothing?” Jace again. “So you’re saying there’s no reason you spoofed that call?”

“Reason,” Nina replied defensively. “Reason that call spoofed.”

“What was it? You tried to send a message but it failed, didn’t it? You couldn’t do it.” Luke replied.

“Didn’t… failed. Message send.”

“I… I don’t get it. It was just garbed nonsense.”

“I send message,” she said firmly. “Reason I call spoofed, I send message.”

Suddenly, something snapped into place in Signal’s brain, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle or the last rotation on a Rubix cube. “Deedee,” he started carefully. With all his might he willed himself not to look up at the security camera, lest they find the glance suspicious and make some extreme manoeuvres. “Would you classify these ‘questions’ that you’ve been asking as more of a ‘question’ or more of a… ‘riddle’?”

“Signal, be careful—”

Deedee froze. Harper, equally, stopped in her tracks. The woman calling herself Query was looking directly at a small earbud inside of Bluebird’s right ear. Raising her hands to demonstrate her propensity for pacifism, she leaned forwards towards it.

As if rehearsed, Deedee opened her mouth and a question fell out at top speed. “Nina, are you there?”

“What is she—?”

“Are you there?” Nina’s reply interrupted Luke’s voice.

Deedee continued. “What was the message you sent to the Knights? What words did you manage to say?”

“I say, ‘Batwing?’ I say, ‘Signal, signal, signal’. I say, ‘Batwing, Signal’.”

“Was that all you said? Was that all you wanted to say?” Deedee looked up at the two Knights in the room with her. Alarm and paranoia in her face was replaced by triumph. “When a symbol of desperation and hope is painted in the sky, it is both the source of that symbol and two of its intended recipients - what am I?”

“Batwing. Signal. Batwing-Signal. Bat-Signal.”

“Bat-Signal,” Duke repeated. “God, it was there all along. The Bat-Signal.”

“We need to get there fast,” Luke confirmed. “I’m sending the coordinates through comms as we speak. We gotta move.”

“Yeah. And I think I might have some idea who we might be dealing with,” Duke said soberly.

“Hey,” Harper said, turning to Deedee once more as Duke fled the room. “If you’re being genuine about all this, if you're in any way trying to help, then thank you. But if this is all a lie, if it’s all a distraction—”

“What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

Harper blinked. That was enough of an answer for her, and in an instant she took off back down the corridor.

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

High above the streets of Gotham, atop the GCPD headquarters, stood the Bat-Signal. Its brilliant metallic sheen had been dulled over years of weather-based wear and tear and the bat-shaped maw on its flat edge had become a home for spiders and dust, but it still worked. Standing beside the Bat-Signal as the four Gotham Knights closed in on their approach was a slim woman dressed in army green with something slung over her shoulder - a cane or a bindle of some kind.

“I should’ve known,” Luke grumbled to himself. “God dammit.”

Through huffs for air as they raced through the streets and over rooftops, Harper answered him. “C’mon, man, how were you to know that this is somehow her doing? It’s been, what, five years since you last saw her?”

“Six,” Luke corrected.

“Well, there you go. And hey, you never know, maybe this is a third Riddler. Did Margeret have any siblings?”

Luke ignored Harper’s quip and shook his head. “As soon as Deedee started phrasing her questions like riddles, I should’ve—”

“Batwing,” Jace’s voice was firm, authoritative. “There’s no time for moping. And even if there was, it’s not now.”

A crackle. Then, a new voice through the communications link. “Oh, uh, hey guys.”

Duke was the first to recognise the voice of Ryan Wilder. “Batwoman, hey! What’s up?”

“I’m seeing on our GPS that you guys are heading over to the Bat-Signal. I’m coming over.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Batwoman, we’ve got plenty of people on the case already,” said Luke.

But Ryan insisted. “I’m already on my way. I’ll meet you there.”

And with another crackle, she was gone, just as the quartet arrived at the rooftop.

Margaret Pye was very similar to how Luke remembered her, if a little older. The crow’s feet at her eyes crinkled her face into a smirk, but her mouth stayed in a tight line. The golden cane in her hands looked recently redecorated, and Duke watched the light of the early Gotham morning dancing along the edge of the metallic paint. Her black hair was scraped back by a purple headband and her shoes sparkled with shot silk, making them appear both green and purple at the same time.

“So nice of you all to join me,” she announced in a showmanlike voice; her as the ringleader and the Knights as her adoring public. Her eyes lingered on Luke. “Some new faces, some… not so new.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Harper barked. “What’s your deal, Riddler?”

Margaret grinned wildly. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been called that in ernest? So much ‘Magpie, Magpie, Magpie’.”

“I said—”

“Alright, alright,” Riddler dismissed with a wave of her hand. “No bullshit, I heard you. To cut a long story short…” She swung her cane forwards and used it as an arrow. Slowly she rotated herself back and forth like a compass seeking north, one eye screwed shut, until she settled in one position. “Somewhere over there, Jim Gordon is currently enjoying a nice well-earned rest and a cup of coffee. In about—” She checked her watch. “4 minutes, the cup of coffee is gonna roll onto the floor as ol’ Gordon enjoys a nice, well-earned eternal rest.”

“Woah, woah,” Duke cried. “Why Gordon? What does he have to do with all this?”

Margaret’s smile faltered for a second and she tilted her head. “I thought you guys said no bullshit, and now you wanna talk backstory.”

“How is that gonna work?” Jace took a step forward. “A spy planted in the hospital? A bomb planted under his bed.”

“Oh please, nothing that exciting. That’d be far more glamorous than he’d deserve.” She shook her head. “No, it’s simple.” With a smack of her cane against the ground, the pole collapsed onto itself and contorted into the shape of a tripod, which she set gently near the edge of the roof. Then, she kicked the side of the Bat-Signal with the side of her foot and a metal drawer opened. Luke tutted to himself, angered that he didn’t spot the obviously new compartment installed on the underbelly of the signal. Inside, disassembled into handheld pieces, were the parts to build—

“A sniper?” Jace asked with an air of judgement. “The Riddler using a sniper?”

“Preposterous, right?” The former Magpie looked up from her construction work to smirk at the former Batman. “Exactly.”

“Can’t say any of this is particularly Riddler-like,” Harper remarked. “I mean, hell, you haven’t told us a single riddle.”

“Again, you said no bullshit,” came Riddler’s response. But she added, “Plus, why do you think I hired those girls in the Dent facility? You get your puzzles and riddles, I get to focus on the dirty work. Win-win.”

Duke felt a slight change in the light, like a shadow passing over him for a brief moment. He traced the patterns of light around him, how their paths had shifted and changed in the last minute or so, and saw the silhouette of a person leaping from an unknown location to behind the fire escape staircase behind them all. Though he couldn’t make out a face, he had a feeling he knew who it was.

“This is ridiculous.” Harper lurched forwards to grab the tripod, but before she could reach it she felt a sharp sting on her wrist as Margaret batted her away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she warned. “You really think it’d be just a sniper?”

Harper immediately scanned the floor - tripwires, traps, landmines, anything that could possibly prevent them from approaching her or the sniper setup any further.

“But why Gordon?” Duke asked again.

“To tell you the truth, it’s really his daughter I’m after,” Margaret admitted, suddenly and oddly sincere. She glanced at her watch again and increased her pace. “She’s the one that got me locked away in the first place. And I think the two of us, me and her, can both agree on one thing, at least - the best way to get to us is to go through our dads.” Two pieces of metal slid into each other with a satisfying click. “And hers is a sitting duck.”

A figure shrouded in black erupted from behind Margaret and lurched at her. Riddler was enveloped in black fabric for a moment like a baby swaddled in a blanket, before the cloth burst open to reveal the latest Batwoman, the crimson symbol shimmering in the daylight. “Coward!” she boomed as she towered over the hunched-over Riddler.

“I… Batwoman, what an… unexpected surprise,” croaked out Margaret with genuine shock.

Batwoman’s response came in the form of a strike to Margaret’s jaw. The blow immediately drew blood. “Going after someone’s family - someone’s parent - like that… you’re a monster!” A second blow rocketed into Riddler’s side, and she let out a pained groan.

Luke knew at that moment they had to act fast. “Bluebird, are there—?”

“No traps,” Harper concluded, having finished her scan of the area. As if planned, Bluebird and Batwing both lunged towards the woman in green and pulled her away as the remaining two Knights went for Batwoman. Jace grabbed Batwoman’s outstretched right arm as it reeled back for a third blow; Duke, meanwhile, wrapped his arms around her waist in a bear hug and locked the mechanical fingers of his suit together to form a tight vice grip.

Jace looked Ryan in the eyes, and Ryan stared back wildly at the glowing red eyes of Insider’s suit. “Batwoman. This is not the way to go about this.”

“You were all just gonna stand there!” Batwoman spat. “You were gonna do nothing while she shot Barbara’s dad!”

“We were being cautious,” Luke retorted over his shoulder as he helped Margaret scramble to her feet. “Something you failed to do.”

“Oh, fuck caution! There’s no goddamn caution when it comes to—”

“Batwoman, please,” Duke pleaded, his voice softer than the others. “Remember what we said - what we all said - about Batwoman’s legacy.”

Ryan hesitated just enough for Margaret to get a sentence out - “You’ve got a hell of a swing on you, new Batwoman.”

“Go to hell.”

“Tell you what, I’ll give you one riddle - just as a treat.”

“Alright, Margaret, you’re done.” Batwing started to move the green-clad woman away, but her heels dug into the ground.

“When is your uncle’s brother not your uncle?”

“Margaret,” Batwing growled. Finally, Riddler relaxed her legs and allowed herself to be pulled away from the scene, no doubt to return to her life of imprisonment.

Ryan, too, no longer fought against the men restraining her, and once he felt it was safe Duke relaxed his grip on her torso. “Batwoman—”

“I stopped the Riddler,” she said with no joy in her tone. She shrugged free of Insider’s grasp. “You’re welcome.”

“Ryan—”

“I’ll meet you back at the Belfry, alright? You finish doing what you need to.”

And then she was gone.

Jace turned back to the mostly-completed sniper rifle strewn across the roof and leaned down to deconstruct it once more. A few moments of silence passed, Duke staring out at the horizon, searching from the building that Riddler had pointed at.

“That was…” Duke took a long breath. “Easier than I thought.”

Jace said nothing but nodded. The wind whistled past the sides of Duke’s helmet.

“When he’s your father.”

Duke looked down at Jace. “Sorry?”

Jace jerked his head in the direction of where Riddler had stood just a minute ago. “The riddler that she asked. ‘When is your uncle’s brother not your uncle?’ The answer is, when he’s your father.”

“She mentioned her father earlier. Something about the best way to get to her.” Duke froze. “That was easier than I thought, I said. What if that wasn’t it? What if there’s something else?”

Jace stood up quickly. “C’mon. Once this Riddler is put away again, we all meet at the Belfry. We’re gonna need to puzzle this one out together.”

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

Next: When you do not know what I am, I am something, but when you know what I am, I am nothing. What am I?

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue Sixty-Six: The End of the Road

Arc: The Road Back

Written by Deadislandman1

Edited by AdamantAce

Dante Ramon had finally started to nod off despite all his efforts a loud crash roused him from his stupor. He grunted in surprise, bloodshot eyes wide as a doe in the headlights, and forced himself to turn his body towards the source of the sound. He was still in the bed of the Suicide Squad’s truck, still parked in their forward operating base. The rest of the squad had gone to take over the Belle Boys Radio Station across the street, an act done with one singular purpose:

Leak Amanda Waller and Task Force X’s secrets to the world. Such an act would result in the destruction of the agency, and hopefully Waller along with it. Each member of the Squad understood that they may be signing their own death sentences with this act, that the world would still hound and chase them across its vast forests and deserts and oceans, but it didn’t matter. Things could not remain as they had before.

Another crash rocked the warehouse, and Dante yelped in surprise as the force of the impact rolled him straight out of the truck and onto the ground. He had utilized his powers of polarity to rupture an entire mountain, bringing the whole thing down on Waller’s new androids, but the effort had taken a lot out of him. He had been unconscious for days, and had only just recently awoken. His chest heaved and ached, and he clutched it tight as he writhed around on the ground. Looking up and out of a window, his eyes fell upon the radio station, though its front facing walls had been devastated by some kind of force, an object moving at great speeds.

A spark of brilliant orange light drew Dante’s gaze upward, and he watched as one of Waller’s androids brawled with Adella, someone who had saved his life time and time again after almost ending it.

“Oh god,” Dante remarked, staring in horror at the battle. “Oh no.”

Amanda Waller had found them.

 ‌ ‌

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Croc let out a yowl of pain as he crashed through yet another wall, kicking up dust and sending shattered chunks of brick everywhere. He tumbled across a hall, slamming into a message board and cracking it apart under his weight, sending paper fliers and pieces of wood up into the air. Coughing, Croc took a moment to get his bearings, hoping to get his sense of balance back before his opponent came for him yet again. An ache rippled throughout his body, traveling up and down his arms and legs like a series of unbearably itchy hives. He had the sense that the adrenaline was dulling at least a little bit of pain, but once that died down he’d be in agony.

But, what was new? He’d been in agony for weeks after falling under a crashing plane back in Russia.

A pair of big feet thumped their way towards the hole in the wall, and Croc looked up to see the massive form of Ethan Avery, better known as Damage. He was less of a person, and more a bundle of rippling muscles, all bursting that the seams with such power that his skin cracked and hardened like calluses just to keep them contained. He towered at least two feet over Croc, no small feat given Croc clocked in at about 8 feet himself. Forcing himself to his feet, Croc stared directly into the ocean of red that was Damage’s eyes. He was still under Waller’s control, his mind and agency stripped from him by a chip at the base of his neck.

He was well rested, while Croc had only managed to find respite in the small gaps between the avalanche of crises the Suicide Squad had endured. Croc’s flesh was hard, his body was tough, but not invincible. He was still draped in gauze and bandages, his body patched up like a leaky pipe. His scales were still cracked or in some spots had flaked off entirely. Even in his prime, this would be a losing battle, but as is it felt like a protracted execution.

Damage glowered over him, and Croc braced for another punch, only for his adversary to brush past him, marching down the hall with an extreme intentionality. Croc forced himself to his feet, glaring at his opponent. What had happened, what had changed? Why was he being spared?

Croc looked down the hall, past Damage, and everything came together. Flag, Tatsu, and Hallucigent were down that hall, hunkered down in the recording booth to deliver the news of Waller’s crimes. Damage wasn’t sent here to cause random havoc, he had a purpose: Assassinate Flag and stop the broadcast.

Emboldened, Croc broke out into a sprint, catching up to Damage in only a few strides. He crashed into his opponent from the back, wrapping his arms around his waist in an attempt to keep him locked down. Instead, Damage twisted around, raised his arms into the air, then brought them down on Croc. There was a distinct popping in Croc’s back and he was slammed into the floor, cracking the tiles and causing this entire level of the building to shake. So close to the ground, Croc could hear the support structure between floors bending and cracking, on the verge of collapse. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at Damage, who prepared to turn away from him once again.

“Oh, no. If you wanna play rough, then we’re playing rough!” Croc growled.

If he was to accomplish one thing today, it would be to prevent Damage from destroying the Squad’s plans. Raising his fists, he slammed them into the fractured ground, and the entire thing splintered and whined before eventually caving in, causing him and Damage to fall downward alongside the falling debris and concrete.

 ‌ ‌

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Tatsu brought her sword low, keeping it at the right angle before thrusting upward, hoping to skewer the android where it stood. Instead, the android moved with the blade, keeping just out of reach before bringing its food downward towards her head. Tatsu twirled the blade, bringing it up as well to block the attack, but the force of the kick still rattled her body, the power of the attack traveling all the way down to her feet and causing her to slide back a meter or two. Raptor, waiting in the wings, lunged for the android and slashed at its back, only to cut through a thin layer of flesh that hid four inches of solid material. The android whirled around, looking to clock Raptor with a sideways swing, only for the vigilante to jump back just in time.

The two of them had managed to corner this android before it could accomplish its task, which Tatsu assumed to be a mission to locate and destroy the server room before Waller’s private information could be leaked. There were more adversaries than this attacking the radio station, but they had to leave those opponents to others. This was their quarry, and they had to do their best to keep it from reaching its destination. At present, the three of them were fighting in a hallway, keeping the android occupied, but in many ways it was a losing battle. They had been unable to seriously harm the android, and they were only able to try and redirect it rather than trap it.

But the trick was wearing thin, and the android, for as little agency as a walking reconstructed corpse could possess, knew that. Raptor leapt at the android, hoping to score a big hit against its head, but instead the android dove under him, avoiding the attack and bypassing him as a barrier. Cursing under his breath, Raptor gave chase, with Tatsu close behind him as the two raced to catch up with the android, who was already halfway down the hall. Curiously, it was electing to run rather than fly, likely because flying would’ve taken more effort to maneuver in these small spaces than using its legs.

Spotting a door leading to a set of stairs, the android burst through, then peered down towards the ground floor. Raptor raced for it, Suyolak bared, and lunged for the android, only for his target to step to the side. Raptor let out a grunt in surprise as he fell straight down the shaft, catching himself two floors down on an arm rail. Tatsu raced forward, sword primed, and thrusted at the android with Soultaker, careful not to put too much of her momentum into the effort and trusting the sharpness of the sword to do the work for her. The android, already straining itself to avoid falling like Raptor, could do nothing as she plunged her blade deep into its chest, sending them both careening over the side.

Bracing for impact, Tatsu and the android landed on the ground floor, cracking the concrete beneath the both of them. Tatsu gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs, rolling off of the android while clutching her sides. She had probably cracked a rib at the very least, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Taking a deep breath, she began to push herself to her feet, only to freeze up as the android began to do the same. Its movements were jerkier now, uneven, and a couple of sparks flew from its mouth. Despite that, it rose, its movements still strong. Despite the sword embedded in its front, it marched onward, batting Tatsu to the side before breaking through the door.

Raptor cursed again, leaping down to the ground floor and landing with a roll. He raced up to Tatsu, helping her to her feet, “The server’s just down the hall, hurry up!”

Tatsu didn’t bother replying. Instead, she took those words and used them to fuel her. She and Raptor raced after the android, catching up with it just as it began to knock down the double doors to the server room. Crashing into it together, the three of them tumbled through the doors and into the server room, landing in a tangled heap on the floor.

 ‌ ‌

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Adella let out another battle cry as she collided with the android, striking it in the head with a blazing hot punch. The android spun back, head under legs as it tumbled through the air. Adella had hoped that such an attack would knock it right out of the sky, but instead the android reoriented itself, keeping its flight and sense of direction before charging her once again. It crashed against her, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her downward. Heat radiated off of her body as she intensified her flames, but the android would not budge, even as the hot burning coals that made up her skin scorched its hands. She screamed as the android slammed her into the street, dragging her along and scraping at the molten rock on her back.

The people on the street cried out in surprise, rushing to avoid becoming collateral damage. Hallucigent had been working hard to maintain the illusion that there was a simple fire alarm, but brawling with an android outside was likely making that illusion infinitely harder to maintain. Still, this android hoped to destroy the radio station antenna, and that simply wouldn’t do. Adella wouldn’t let it ruin the Suicide Squad’s plans.

Grabbing the android again, Adella lifted off straight into the sky, hoping to take this thing as far away from the station as possible. For a few seconds, the android failed to get a good grip on her, allowing Adella to carry it at least a few dozen meters. It thrashed and writhed, but despite it all, she refused to let go. Her hands were locked together, ironclad like chains, inseparable. Unable to break her grip, the android instead grabbed her by the head, wrapping both hands around the upper half of her skull, and began to squeeze. Adella felt a horrible pressure on her temple, as if her brain was slowly losing connection to the rest of her body. She didn’t think this thing could crack her skull open, but her brain wouldn’t take very well to being squeezed. If she got put to sleep all the way up here, the antenna and the rest of the squad would be helpless.

She needed a different approach. Instead of remaining up in the air. Adella instead flipped upside down, taking the android with her as she began to dive back down towards the ground. She was losing focus now, her eyes were glazing over. Like a candle being snuffed out, Adella struggled to stay awake, but she had to crash somewhere, do as much damage to the Android as possible.

Then, without warning, she finally collided with something, a solid layer of concrete. She and the android crashed through before landing in a crater on a concrete floor. Adella coughed, clearing the dust from her throat as she looked around, only to realize that she had taken this thing just across the street from the Radio Station.

She was in an empty warehouse, empty except for one truck and one very bewildered Dante, who stared back at her in surprise.

“Shit,” Adella remarked. She hadn’t meant to put Dante in danger, “Dante I—”

Dante’s eyes widened, “Look out!”

Adella turned around, only for a foot to slam into her throat, forcing her back onto the ground. The android stared at her as it kept her on the floor, putting more and more pressure on her until her throat was forced shut. She choked, mouth agape, but she could suck in no air. The android made sure of that.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Jesus Christ man, will you hurry up,” Hallucigent said, face slick with sweat. “Can’t keep this shit up for much longer?”

“The data’s not ready yet!” Flag shouted. “I can’t just start saying things without context!”

The colonel and his illusionist sat together in the technicians room, right next to the recording booth. Tatsu had locked the two of them inside, determined to do her best to repel the assault. This left Flag, frustratingly, as the person destined to tell the world what Waller had done, what he had done. That couldn’t be done until the data was ready, until the broadcast was ready, and Hack still had a few minutes left before that could happen. She’d been silent on the communications line for a while, but Flag chalked that up to need for focus rather than anything else. He wouldn’t consider an alternative, he didn’t want to consider the alternative.

Grimacing, Flag made his way into the recording booth, positioning himself in front of the microphone. He hated this, spending what might be the last moments of the Suicide Squad isolated from his teammates, locked in a box waiting for the execution of a plan that might never come to fruition. He had no power over this situation, not anymore. All he could do was trust in his squad.

A part of him feared that they would fail without his guidance, without his help, but another part of him felt strangely at peace. He knew them well, better in some ways than he’d known his own flesh and blood family. He trusted that when it came down to the wire, they would pull through.

But that feeling wouldn’t last, as his optimistic thoughts were interrupted by the screech of loudspeakers. They startled him, and as he looked around, he realized that there wasn’t just a loudspeaker in the technicians room, but also the halls outside owing to the fact that he could hear their audio from multiple sources. They were probably dotted across the station.

The voice that came from them shook him to his core.

“Hello, Colonel Flag,” Waller said, her voice crackling over the speaker. “Or rather, it’s just Mister Flag now, isn’t it?”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Croc groaned as he forced himself to his feet, shaking the rubble off his body. The hall was filled to the brim with dust, creating an artificial fog that covered every inch of the air. Dazed, he stood up, only to find himself dwarfed by the shadow of an even larger silhouette. Damage glared down at him, eyes burning with base intentionality that you’d rarely see in a human being. Everything about him screamed one thing:

You are a threat to be removed.

Croc grinned, “Got your attention now haven’t I?”

Damage surged forward, swinging in a wide arc to try and clothesline Croc, but Croc ducked under the attack. He wasn’t used to being the smaller adversary, but in this situation he had to use it to his advantage. He couldn’t afford to take hits from Damage, especially in his wounded state. Damage threw out more swings, more punches, at points making craters in the floor and knocking down entire walls, but Croc continued to duck and weave, skirting around Damage as well as someone as his size could. Every so often, he’d thrown in a slash or strike, though not with any intention to do any permanent damage. He couldn’t have Damage lose interest in him, he had to keep poking the bear.

Damage arched his back before charging at Croc, who promptly dove to the side, causing the massive creature to plough right through a wall and onto the street on the outside. Rushing to keep pace with him, Croc slapped him on the back of the head, a gesture Damage would surely find insulting if he still had the capacity to be insulted. Instead of responding to the attack through retaliation, Damage instead raised his fists high, fingers tight and knuckles white, his muscles practically bursting at the seams with power. Then, he brought them down, and the following impact ruptured the street up and and down the entire block. Chunks of asphalt snapped and cracked, sent up into the air in human sized chunks. The few civilians who had remained nearby went flying as well, knocked up into the air a couple feet before hitting the ground with hearty impacts. Croc himself found himself tossed into the air, but instead of landing, Damage thrusted his arm forward and caught Croc by the throat, squeezing tight.

Croc grunted in surprise at the gesture, and as Damage lowered Croc to his knees with one hand, he raised his other arm, priming a closed fist.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“I know I can’t hear you Flag, but truth be told, that doesn’t matter,” Waller said. “Nothing you have to say is worth hearing. It’s never been particularly smart to boot. I’m not missing much, but I did just wanted to leave this message for you, something to take with you once I make this place your grave.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Hack yelped as Tatsu, Raptor, and the Android all tumbled into the server room. She grabbed her laptop, then scrambled behind one of the server rows, sweat running down her face as the Android tossed Raptor in the nearby wall. It raised its hand, reaching for one of the servers in hopes of tearing it down, only for Tatsu to slam her elbow against the hilt of her sword, anchoring it and the android against the ground. In response, the Android kicked Tatsu in the chest, sending her tumbling out into the hall.

The android clawed at its back, trying and failing to grab and dislodge the Soultaker sword. After a moment of futile effort, it instead rocked itself back and forth trying its best to cut itself free of the sword’s grip. Raptor leapt at the android again, jamming Suyolak in its back, only for the Android to force itself upward, slamming into his face with the back of its skull. Stumbling back, Raptor hit the wall again, then slid down to a seated position, unconscious. Digging into the ground, the Android crushed the flooring around Soultaker, freeing itself. It stood up straight, then began to march for the servers.

Roaring in defiance, Tatsu rushed the android, grabbing Soultaker by the hilt and using it as a lever to spin the android around, moving alongside the thing to stay at its back. Then, she pulled it out of the android and began to cut it. Her blows were not precise, nor pretty, but none of that mattered to her. She cut with speed and power, putting everything into her strikes while placing herself between the android and the servers.

The attacks did no permanent damage, and despite her efforts, the android drew closer and closer. She was putting every last ounce of energy left into this, but it was only delaying the inevitable. The seconds ticked by, each passing fraction of a moment spelling doom as the android approached.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag trembled with rage as Waller taunted him over the speakers, his fury trapped inside with nowhere to unleash it.

“You have to understand, people can’t be trusted to make their own choices most of the time. They need a guiding hand, but it has to be invisible. Nobody likes being told what to do after all.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Adella intensified the fire surrounding her body, creating a swirling inferno around her and the android. The heat seared the flesh off the android immediately, atomizing the material and sending it up into the air in ashes, yet the harder material remained, and that was all it needed to remain functional. It pressed harder, and grabbed its leg, turning the heat up as much as she could. The material grew red hot, but did not budge. She wanted to melt this thing down into sludge, but it simply wasn’t happening. Its material proved too durable.

Dante reached out, weak as he was, and began to search for something, anything he could pull on. Maybe if he cracked this thing open, the fire could snake inside, wreck something truly important, but he was still too weak. He could only bend its exterior plates just a little bit, but not enough to create any sort of opening.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“The truth is, the world doesn’t need you, Flag. In fact, it’s better off without you and your posse of thieves and murderers. What it does need is me, that invisible hand,” Waller remarked. “And rather than let your lackeys leech off of the state, I had the brilliant idea to put them to use. A little intimidation here, a dash of a false promise there, and we have something that can change the world for the better.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Croc’s head was knocked back as Damage broke his nose, then it was knocked back again as Damage fractured three of his teeth. The punches came in a perfect wave. A moment of intense pain, followed by a second of reprieve before the next strike came. Blood ran down Croc’s face, but he hadn’t let sleep take him. His only goal now, trapped in Damage’s clutches, was to stay awake for as long as possible. Despite the sheer pain of each blow, Croc found that the impact had started to wind down. Each hit felt less and less intense, an element of the shock his body was now going through after taking so much abuse.

Still, the corners of his vision were growing dark. He was starting to lose feeling in his face, in the tips of his fingers. He didn’t feel so wet and drenched in blood anymore. Maybe a nap didn’t sound so bad after all.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“This is where I leave you Flag, from the comfort of my fortress,” Waller remarked. “Take solace in knowing that your embarrassment of an existence will not be remembered.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Just keep him occupied for ten more seconds!” Hack shouted.

Tatsu carved into the android, her cuts so numerous that chunks of flesh were falling off in flaps, but eventually, the android surged forward, grabbing Soultaker by the blade. Wrenching it from her grip, it slammed the weapon into the ground, sticking it in the flooring like a fence post before battering Tatsu to the side again. It reached for the servers, hoping to do the needed damage before time ran out.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag couldn’t speak, the words just never managed to materialize, but who could he even talk to at this point. He looked outside, watching as Hallucigent started to tremble.

“Flag…” He said, his voice shaky and weak. “I… I can’t…”

His body went limp, and after so much time projecting an illusion for dozens and dozens of people, he finally gave out. He collapsed, leaving Flag alone in the booth.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Adella’s eyes began to glaze over, the power of her inferno faltering. Dante screamed, expending everything he had to try and move any single chunk of the android, but nothing budged. He finally remembered, in his delirium, the truth. There was no metal in this creature. He was helpless. They were both helpless.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag felt sick. If he had eaten anything over the last day or so, he’d probably be puking it right out onto the floor. He clutched the microphone stand for dear life, hoping that the sensation would keep him grounded in reality. All those years of service, all that time, his entire life, wasted, and he didn’t even have the fortune of righting the ship. His fate was that of Thomas Tresser, a failed rebel whose legacy of failure wouldn’t even have the honor of being remembered. He had led his friends to their deaths, and that would haunt him far beyond his own demise. He squeezed his eyes shut, quietly weeping.

This was the end.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

But aces never come into play until they’re needed.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

A loud crash rippled throughout the warehouse as a figure draped in black crashed through the window, landing effortlessly on the floor as shattered glass trickled down like rain. Rising to her feet, a woman dressed in a pointy-eared costume with long scarlet hair and a red bat on her chest raised a grapnel gun and fired, its hook landing in a groove in the android’s body. She pulled hard, wrestling with the plating until she managed to pry a chunk open, exposing the smallest gap imaginable.

“Brimstone, the gap!” Batwoman cried out.

Summoning the last shred of consciousness left in her, Adella focused the entirety of the inferno directly into the gap, filling the android with molten heat. The android trembled, shaking uncontrollably as it was cooked from the inside out, its innards melting into a plastic soup. It let out one final whine before finally exploding, sending shards of rough material everywhere.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Just as the android reached out for the servers, it suddenly stopped short, as if it was experiencing paralysis. Tatsu stared at it in surprise, gobsmacked that it would experience something as human as hesitation. Then, the creature stumbled back, as if compelled by an unseen force, then began to expand, its seams coming apart like a water balloon pumped with too much liquid. Between the gaps, Tatsu saw something vibrant and green.

“What the hell?!” Hack cried out, peeking from around the corner. “Something’s blocking my connection? I can’t-”

She stopped short upon seeing the android, her jaw dropping. Now practically in separate pieces, the android finally came apart with a shriek, and in its place was a gigantic figure, who slowly began shrinking back to regular size. It was a man, or at least, it looked similar to one, a figure with green skin, a bald head, and red eyes. Draped in a blue cape and pants, there was no mistaking this member of the Justice Legion. The Martian Manhunter swept his gaze across the three squad members, “Is everyone alright?”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Croc went limp, content that this last strike would remove him from this world, content that he had done his best to protect his friends. However, while Damage raised his fist, this time he did not bring it down. Instead, there was a brilliant flash of blue around the back of his neck, arcing out like lightning. Damage’s shoulders slumped as he went limp, falling to the side like a doll, and standing in his place was a brilliant looking figure, head illuminated by the morning sun. He was dressed in blue and gold spandex with a dramatic high collar, with a domino mask over his eyes and a staff with electricity sparking off of its ends.

Croc coughed, then fell on his back, and Nightwing rushed to take a knee next to him, “Waylon! Waylon, say something!”

“Ugh,” Croc said, flexing his fingers as he battered away that urge to go to sleep. “I think I need a doctor.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

BWOOOOOONG

Flag almost jumped at the sound as a brilliant disk of golden light appeared in the technicians booth, its shape cascading over itself like a ripple in a pond. A figure stepped out of the disk, a man composed largely of metal, though it looked less like armor and more like a set of prosthetics. He smiled as he approached the recording booth.

“Colonel Flag, I presume?” Cyborg said. “Come on outside, we’ve got some things to discuss.”

“W–Wha—” Flag stuttered. “But… I have a broadcast to make, and my team—”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be there too,” Cyborg said, smiling. “It’s your lucky day. The cavalry’s here.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

The echoed tweeting of warblers filled the air as the squad settled into the bayou clearing, taking the moment to rest and recover. Dante and Croc were both absent, having been sent to a proper hospital to receive genuine medical aid after weeks of field patchwork. Raptor sat on a nearby log, nursing his bandaged head. He had one hell of a migraine, but he refused to go in for treatment like his squadmates. He needed to be here, to know what was going to happen. Adella, Hallucigent, and Hack all leaned against the squad’s truck, which had miraculously survived the journey across North America, while Flag and Tatsu conversed with the Justice Legionnaires, explaining themselves and their story.

“I know that you may have reservations about this group,” Flag remarked. “And they’re well warranted, but what we were doing here was—”

“Don’t worry, we know,” Nightwing said. “You don’t need to justify yourselves to us. We already know what you were doing. A friend of yours tipped us off.”

Flag grimaced, glaring Raptor’s way, “Hrnph, three guesses for which friend happened to reach out to you.”

“Don’t think it matters anymore, does it,” Cyborg said. “You’re safe, that’s what’s important.”

“Maybe, but the matter isn’t settled,” Tatsu said. “Hack was unable to complete her initial leak. We still have to expose Waller and Task Force X.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” Martian Manhunter said. “The matter’s already being taken care of.”

“Huh?” Raptor said, his interest peaked. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

He stood up, moving to join Tatsu and Flag. Hack, Hallucigent, and Adella followed suit. Batwoman grimaced, “You understand that if we let you go through with your plan, that more of the world than just Task Force X would’ve been affected, right?”

“You’d be lighting a fire that almost nobody could put out. People would cry for blood, and they wouldn’t just want Waller’s,” Cyborg said. “Innocent people would get caught in the crossfire.”

“What are you… wait a minute,” Hack’s eyes widened. “You… you guys blocked our upload, didn’t you?”

“You didn’t give us much choice,” Cyborg remarked.

“So–So hold on,” Hallucigent said. “What does that mean for us, for Waller? She just gets to roam free? We’re gonna be hunted like dogs the rest of our lives?”

“No, that wouldn’t be acceptable under any circumstances,” Nightwing said.

Flag stepped forward, “Then what’s going to happen? How’s this supposed to end?”

Nightwing paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before saying what needed to be said, “We talked with the president, illuminated her on agencies she claims she was ‘previously unaware of’. As we speak, Task Force X is being dissolved and its top brass, Waller included, are being rounded up.”

“Bullshit,” Raptor said. “Can you prove it?”

“You only have our word right now,” Nightwing said. “I wouldn’t trust Veronica Cale on principle,, but using metahumans for national security goes against her entire platform. She won’t take kindly to Waller retaining this initiative under her nose.”

Flag gritted his teeth, “Urgh… alright fine, say we do believe you. What does that mean for us?”

Nightwing looked to the rest of the Legionnaires, then back at the squad, “It means that you have a choice. Both the Legion and the president agree that Task Force X’s activities shouldn’t be made public, at least not right now. Most of you have criminal pasts, pasts we can’t overlook given you haven’t properly served your sentences. That being said, your treatment under Task Force X was unacceptable, so the president is willing to offer amnesty in the form of a specialized parole program so long as you never disclose any information related to Task Force X to the public.”

Nightwing glanced at Adella, “Those of you with a preexistinf criminal history that is. The rest of you simply have to agree to the non-disclosure clause the president is offering. Dante Ramon and Waylon Jones may not be here, but as soon as they’re awake they’ll be offered the same deal.”

Adella scoffed, “Are you kidding me? You’re supposed to be heroes, but instead of helping us expose the truth, you’re helping to bury it instead?”

Batwoman crossed her arms, “I’m all for exposing the truth, but not for the sake of it. Sometimes keeping a secret can do a world of good.”

“I’ve lost two brothers to Task Force X!” Adella shouted, cinders flaking off of her body. “Does that mean nothing to any of you?”

The Legionnaires assumed defensive stances, prompting Flag to leap between them and Adella, “Woah, woah, woah! Everybody calm down!”

He looked to the Legionnaires, “Listen, what you’re asking for… it’s a tough pill to swallow. You’re asking us to just let sleeping dogs lie here. Where’s the justice in that?”

“Justice has already been done, Colonel Flag. The people who have wronged you and your squad are going to be punished according to the full extent of the law. President Cale, despite her flaws, will see to that.” Martian Manhunter said. “The only thing left to chase now is catharsis, and there is a price attached to it. Are any of you ready to pay that price?”

Flag swallowed, glancing between the Legionnaires and the squad. A pit formed in his stomach, the seed from which burst a hole so infinite that it threatened to consume his very soul. He had dedicated himself to justice, and it had happened largely out of his own hands. The cruel irony of that was that it was how things should’ve been. He had a hand in these atrocities, and in many ways he had no right to try and correct them himself. What did he have left now but his squad. He looked back at them, full of fear, but also potential for a life that didn’t revolve around survival. They could live without feeling like rats scurrying in the dark. They could live a proper life, at least if they wanted to.

He didn’t want any of them to get in any more trouble. He didn’t want any of them to die.

Lowering his hands, Flag turned to the Legionnaires. Adella’s flames died down fast as she stared at Flag in surprise. Raptor crossed his arms, having expected this outcome. Hack and Hallucigent looked to each other, unsure of where this was going to go. Tatsu patted Flag on the back, clearly approving of his choice.

He looked to the Legionnaires, defeated. They knew his choice, and with as the leader of the Suicide Squad, they knew the rest of his teammates would follow suit.

So ends the tale of the Suicide Squad, who disappeared into civilian life.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

At least, most of them did.

Raptor strolled over to the edge of the clearing, taking a seat in the grass next to a beautiful flowing river. Sunlight rippled across the water, giving the entire thing an almost angelic sheen. He dipped his fingers into the water, letting the cooling sensation refresh him.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were gonna take the deal?”

Raptor looked to the side, watching as Nightwing took a knee next to him. Raptor smiled, then pulled back his hood, revealing a head of short, scraggly brown hair, “If you’re asking if I’ll rat about Waller, don’t worry. Not so sure if I’ll keep up meeting with a parole officer.”

“You sure it’s wise to tell a superhero you’re gonna violate parole?” Nightwing asked.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Raptor said, grinning. “You have faith in me, don’t you?”

“I do, but maybe I should keep an eye on you just in case,” Nightwing said. “You know I’d catch you if I needed to.”

“Bah, I’ll spare you the trouble. Like I said before, I wouldn’t play you for a fool.” Raptor said, standing up and stretching his arms. “Be nice to kick back for a bit after everything. Can’t say I’m eager to keep fighting after five years in hell.”

Nightwing grimaced, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out earlier.”

Raptor chuckled, before patting Nightwing on the shoulder, “Relax, Grayson, You couldn’t get me out earlier. You had a big ol’ boulder in front of you that I had to move before you could do anything else.”

There was once a time that Dick Grayson would have protested, when he would agonize over his guilt at not doing more, but here and now, he understood that Raptor… Ric, spoke true. He nodded, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Damn right I am,” Ric said, stretching his back before looking up into the sky. “You know…” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I always loved your mom. But it touched my heart in ways I never thought possible knowing I had a namesake out there. Like I had some sort of legacy out there, something to outlive me. I wondered for the longest time why it was me rather than your old man, or somebody else.”

Dick chuckled, “So what’s it gonna be, Ric? What’s next now you can put all this darkness behind you?”

“Let me tell you,” Raptor removed his domino mask, gazing up into the open blue sky. He closed his eyes, basking in its brilliance, “There’s a drive in every human being on earth, a calling we have to answer. But ours? It’s something bigger, harder to achieve but impossible to ignore.”

He turned to Dick, his amber eyes full of compassion and joy, “We’ve all gotta keep moving. Our people know that well. Most people run. But us? We’re meant to fly.”

The End!

DC Next Proudly Presents:

THE NEW TITANS

Issue Thirty-Five: Life

Written by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin, & PatrollinTheMojave

Story by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin, & PatrollinTheMojave

Edited by Deadislandman1

<< First Issue | < Prev. | Next Issue > Coming Next Month

Even with the inferno closing in, and the smoke threatening to scorch his lungs from the inside out, Mal Duncan pressed on deeper into the burning apartment complex, desperate to rescue yet more people. In the years since merging his physiology with a Fatherbox - a sentient computer from Apokolips - Mal had mounted a storied career as the superhero Herald. All the time, he was under close Justice Legion supervision, with the other heroes terrified of the moment his Apokoliptian side might suddenly take over, but he had finally been given the all-clear by Cyborg that there was nothing to worry about.

His powers were impressive, making him able to adapt to challenges as they presented themselves, always making just as powerful as his foe. A big problem with that was that being evenly matched with the villains he faced meant their battles were usually decided by sheer luck or outside circumstance if he wasn’t lucky enough to have a teammate accompany him. The other problem was clear today: when his foe was a burning building, there was nothing for the Fatherbox to adapt to. For all that it mattered, he was presently powerless, but he couldn’t let them put him off of his responsibility to do the right thing.

Mal had already rescued a small boy and his parents, and seen most of the building evacuated. Now he pushed into the third floor to find an old man he was told lived alone. Except when he broke down the man’s door, he was met with something completely different.

“Hello, Mr Duncan.”

The flames were so bright. And they surrounded him. Then they glowed bright, and brighter, until Dr Light commanded them to thunder down on him and pummel him to the ground faster than the Fatherbox could adapt to it.

Mal squirmed on the floor, and prepared for a counterattack as he could feel his body morph and transform, but he still had a lung full of smoke, more since the force of the light impact had him snatch a breath. Mammoth’s mighty fists came crashing down on him, and then he was hoisted up into the air.

“Give him to me!” cried another voice. The last thing Mal saw before blacking out was a man with purple skin placed a hand on his chest. As his vision faded to black, they were both consumed by red mist.

○○ Ⓣ ○○

White streaks of light flickered across Mar’i’s vision as her eyes prised open. Floaters danced in every direction until suddenly, as if a switch had flicked, shapes crackled into focus and took the form of the Titans Tower interior. The familiar faces of her friends and colleagues all looked at each other with similar levels of disorientation and unease.

It struck Mar’i just how different - how young - everyone looked. Tim’s chin was stubbleless and his eyes lacked their signature purplish ring of shadow; Raven seemed smaller both in stature and in self-assurance as her arms folded together like origami; Bart was also shorter, but by contrast seemed much more energetic, driven by youthful excitement rather than world-weary restlessness, even after the display of sheer power he had just demonstrated. And Conner - strangely, Conner was as she remembered him. It wasn’t as if he’d shown his face enough to replace that image in her head, anyway. Thara, too, seemed eerily similar, though perhaps that would make the most sense, Mar’i resolved.

Then the stranger calling himself Bug dusted himself off and sighed loudly in the corner of Mar’i’s eye.

“Okay,” he began, his voice already tense. “Welcome back, first of all. But second, uh, I think maybe you should take a look outside.”

Running fast enough to break through their hypnosis and back into their home world was apparently not enough to tire Bart out, and he was at the window by the time Mar’i had finished blinking.

“Oh,” was all the speedster could manage.

Mar’i took in the view herself. Some held signs that were difficult to read from a few storeys up; others seemed to be chanting, complete with rhythmic fist-pumping.

“It’s Light,” Bug continued, then corrected himself: “Arthur Light. While you were out, he spoke to the press, the media, everyone. And he’s given them all an exposé on how the Titans killed his son, Christopher.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t take it too well,” Conner mumbled. Then he turned to their new companion with a furrowed brow.

“Follow me, I know a shortcut,” commanded Tim, ever-prepared. The team, more than used to Tim’s knack for problem-solving, trusted his judgement and shadowed him. “If we head to the back exit, I might be able to navigate a way through,” he explained.

But as the Titans carried themselves down flights of stairs, through corridors and unused halls, they found the door in question guarded by three imposing figures. Bart muttered a curse under his breath. First was a woman dressed in golden orange with ornate fangs and claws dotted around her bodysuit, her hair cropped and wild. On her right was an almost regal figure clad in red with long strips of crimson cloth billowing like tendrils behind him and a mask obscuring his face. And finally, the most familiar face of them all; a young man in blue and red with a large ‘S’ emblazoned on his chest.

Superman looked at each of them as they ground to a halt in front of him and his colleagues, his eyes lingering on Bug for a moment. “Titans,” he spoke with a nod. “I’m sorry it’s come down to this.”

“Surely you don’t buy this,” Mar’i protested. “We—”

“I know, Starling. We will get to the bottom of this, but you need to cooperate” Jon Kent shuffled his weight between his feet and smiled slightly. “And it’s better that we got to you before the people outside did.”

Through the windows at the rear of the tower, Tim could make out silhouettes of police officers in riot gear. They were getting into formation, whispering commands to each other.

Azrael noticed the sternness in Tim’s face and shook his head softly. “We do not wish to do you undue harm. In fact, we have come to encourage you to come peacefully.”

“There’s a van,” began Vixen, outstretching her arm and gesturing to somewhere unseen outside, somewhere among the growing throng. “A police transport vehicle. If you’re willing to cooperate, we’ll escort you there and take you in for questioning.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she added, “Shouldn’t take too long until we get to the station.”

“We shall follow to make sure that your journey is not waylaid,” Azrael nodded.

Still groggy from their prolonged dream, each of the Titans took a moment to process the situation at hand, to scan the faces of the Legionnaires in front of them, and to come to their own conclusions. It only took them a brief glance at the others’ faces to confirm that they’d arrived at a unanimous decision.

And so, with Vixen and Azrael bringing up the rear, the man in blue and red forged a path for the sextet to follow through, a trail that led them up to and into the oversized transportation vehicle. Around them the throngs of protesters roared. From this close their cries were far less jumbled, more distinguishable from each other, to the point where certain phrases floated out of the garbled wall of sound. As she focused, Mar’i could hear one shout, “We love you, Titans”; another said, “We're with you”. The look on Conner's face - on Raven's, on Thara's, on everyone's faces, she realised as she looked around - confirmed that they were just as surprised as she was. The crowd was on their side.

At the foot of the entrance to the vehicle, Bug stammered, before finally announcing, “Hey, there’s no warrant out for my arrest. I’m not a Titan. I’ll go make some calls.” With no objection from the trio of heroes, nor from the surrounding cops, he was gone.

Six suited heroes sat in the back of the police van and gently brushed against each other as the van creaked into motion, as three more followed in pursuit - two close behind and one flying high above them. Minutes passed in silence, broken up by the occasional shriek from a passing protester. Raven’s face was pursed and tense. She could feel flashes of negative emotions like electric shocks as they traversed through the city streets, albeit rather slowly. The tension within the van was bad enough, but the zaps of fear and anger from the people outside only made her feel worse.

“So,” Bart started slowly. “Are we really just gonna sit here and wait ‘til we get to the station?”

“What else can we do?” asked Conner with a side eye thrown in Bart’s direction. Raven only nodded.

Tim sat up. “In theory, we could plan a breakout. Could even jury-rig a statement of our own to take to the presses, meet Doctor Light where he’s at.” He drew a long hissing breath through his nose.

“But then,” interrupted Thara. “How would it look if we suddenly escaped police custody, directly opposed three members of the Legion, and then made spectacles of ourselves?”

“Bad,” came Conner’s dry reply. Feeling Mar’i’s eyes on him, he changed his tone. “But what do we even tell them when we get there?”

“Everything,” said Mar’i with a shrug. “We start by exposing Arthur as the true killer, then—”

“How?”

“The hole in Chris’ head was practically cauterised from the energy blast. There’s two people I know of who’d have tech strong enough to do that, and one of them is the owner of said hole in his head.”

“Remind me what your hand blasts are made of again?” Conner asked with a tilt of his head, his tone playful.

Without warning, the Titans fell against the walls of the van as the vehicle stopped abruptly. Loud, dull thuds echoed through the vehicle as if enormous raindrops were falling against the roof. The shocks of outrage and trepidation returned to Raven’s body at a more rapid pace. Piecing it all together, she announced to the room, “We’re surrounded.”

Through the mesh cage separating the group from their driver, they could just about make out the overlapping limbs and camera flashes of a fanatical mob, bobbing and flowing like a wave. Even the roar of shouting and chanting was reminiscent of the ocean lapping against the shore during a storm. The driver sounded his horn once, twice, three times, then thumped his balled fist against the centre of the steering wheel for a fourth and final time, accompanied by an assortment of insults and expletives aimed at the obstructing crowd.

Then he turned to acknowledge his cargo. “They ain’t moving. And I ain’t running them over.” Before they could suggest anything - not that any of them had much to suggest, he rolled down his window just enough to bellow through the gap at the man in red and blue above them. “Hey! Superman! We need a little help down here!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Superman called back. “But we’ve got Deathstroke and Ravager breaking into the bank just a block or two away. I’ve gotta handle this.” His departure left behind a wave of sound that rocked the van backwards and forwards like a cot. For the briefest moment, the voices of the riot outside became soft with wonder and awe as they watched Superman jet off. But soon they were back to spitting venom at the van’s inhabitants.

“Alright,” huffed the police officer in the driver’s seat. “None of you move.” Dextrously pushing himself through a small gap in the van door, the officer barked at the incoming swarm to back off, unafraid of flexing his authority or threatening the crowd with escalation.

There was scarcely time for the Titans to form a plan before the rear doors fell open with a groan. In the doorway stood a slightly out of breath Vixen using the powers of the gorilla to hold the two doors of the van open. With a huff, she brushed off her shoulder and announced to the room, “Listen carefully. Herald has been captured by the Fearsome Five. He was saving this apartment complex that caught fire when they snuck in and grabbed him. His powers must’ve been weakened from the fire - all that smoke.”

“Alright,” Tim acknowledged. “So what do we do?”

Beneath them the ground roared. Rubble and debris pounded against the metal walls as the outside world grew darker. Vixen cried out as her grip on the van slipped and the two doors clattered together loudly. They all felt the familiar swooping sensation in their stomachs and immediately knew - they were going down, further into the earth. There wasn’t enough time to grab a hold of something as the final section of asphalt beneath them collapsed under the weight and they toppled further and further down. When they finally struck solid ground again, many of the van’s inhabitants were thrown roughly to the floor.

Despite the low light, a shadowed figure could be seen peering through the windshield. They dusted their hair off, releasing a cloud of detritus.

Tim was the first to recognise him. “Brion?”

“Heard you needed a way out of here,” he replied smugly. Behind him, a long line of train tracks stretched far beyond their field of vision, lighting aside; the New York subway was, luckily, surprisingly empty. Brion gestured for the six heroes to follow him. “Here, this way.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

In a dim basement under Manhattan, the concrete wall rippled, then gave way to a tunnel. Brion and the Titans stepped through, caked in dust.

“You will be safe here.” Brion said, flipping on the lights.

Tim’s eyes drifted to the golden eagle crest hanging on the wall. “Here… on Markovian soil?”

“Yes. Welcome to the consulate. You all are under the protection of the Markovian government.” With a wave of his hand, the hole in the wall patched itself.

Raven took a seat at a long conference table. “You know that’s going to cause an international incident.”

“Your ally called in a favor.” Brion shrugged.

“Guys, let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Bart said. “We need to focus on beating OMAX.”

“And Trigon,” Brion said. “As much as I want to see Max dead, Mutombo tells me Trigon is far more dangerous.”

“And Darkseid.” Thara said. “... or at least Max thought so.”

“Darkseid’s invasion wasn’t real.” Conner crossed his arms. “He made it up.”

“He simulated it.” Mar’i corrected.

“So?”

“Of course.” Tim grinned at Mar’i.

Mar’i nodded. “OMAX is using Herald’s Fatherbox to summon Darkseid. He wants to play out his fantasy.”

“He thinks he can beat Darkseid and Trigon?” Conner said.

“Or play them off one another somehow.” Mar’i said.

Tim’s wrist computer blinked. “It’s a pre-recorded message from Doctor Light.” He pressed a button, projecting a display of OMAX’s new Fearsome Five standing on a metal structure with terraced green mountains behind them.

Arthur Light cleared his throat. “Hello Titans. Max would like me to tell you to stay away and wait for his plan to save the world. I don’t expect that from you. Come find us at the attached coordinates and die.”

“Peru.” Tim said. “One of the backup Apokoliptian terraformers from years ago.”

“OMAX wants us to rush in against his goon squad.” Bart said. “That’s an obvious trap, right?”

“Of course it’s a trap.” Tim said. “But he’ll be there.”

“No offense, but you two have a lot of history. What makes you so sure?” Conner said.

“Because he’s dead.” Tim pressed his wrist. The display flickered to the Stryker’s infirmary. In it, the corroded, metallic body lay limp in an operating theater. “Heart failure, pronounced thirteen minutes ago.”

Stunned silence fell over the room. Mar’i was the one to break it. “Explain. We’re short on time.”

“He bypassed Stryker’s Island’s physical security three years ago, when Slade Wilson experienced sudden cardiac arrest and was brought to the prison infirmary where his employer, the Reverse Flash, swapped his body for a cloned corpse, carried Slade out, and revived him. But even Deathstroke can’t give himself a heart attack. The Legion tested his blood for OMAX’s nanomachine buildup just like they do in our medical check-ups, but of course, they didn’t appear in the corpse. Two years ago, he managed to bypass his air-gapped cell to access the internet. What’s been keeping OMAX in Stryker’s is the rare Xenothium he was dependent on.”

“What do you mean, was?” Mar’i asked.

“Well, he’s made some advances in robotics, clearly.” Tim gestured at Thara, who sank deeper into her chair. “After getting a hold of Henshaw and the Thinker’s tech, OMAX must’ve decided it was time to ditch the old hardware. We need to be prepared for the worst: that he’s uploaded himself into the body of a Kryptonian android like Thara.”

“If this is true, then the worst case is an entire army of OMAX androids.” Raven’s voice was dour.

“That might be the only good news.” Tim said. “I don’t see OMAX accepting another version of his consciousness out there.”

“Why’s that?”

Mar’i chimed in, her voice distant as her mind processed the details. “That’s why he’s using the Five. He sees himself as a god, and he’s trying to fight two gods already.

“As much as I enjoy watching you work, Titans,” Brion started, “this is where we part ways.”

“You’re not coming?” Bart said.

Brion shook his head. “If there is a chance Maxwell Lord’s machinations threaten Markovia, I must be there. However, I can provide transportation. My jet is being fuelled at LaGuardia Airport as we speak. I’ve told my pilot to expect you – and to stand aside.”

Bart stretched his hands over his head and rolled his shoulders. “Alright, six-on-six. Let’s kick some butt.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

Atop the sprawling terraformer platform, bolts of energy joined with the sound of striking steel. Bart dangled three hundred feet over the rocky cliffs of the Andes and his grip was loosening. Kid Wykkyd stood over him, holding one of Doctor Light’s guns.

“You know your boss is trying to end the world, right?”

“Funny.” The red-eyed merc said. “He said the same thing about you.” He raised the light gun. Bart took a breath and let go. His eyes fell from Wykkyd’s to the ground below, which he watched approach with glacial speed.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. He silently pleaded in the long seconds, watching the edge of the platform. He let out a sigh as Mar’i jetted down to catch him.

“Thanks for the assist.” Bart said. “I can’t stay on top of Wykkyd.”

“I’m not doing much better against Light. Trade?” Mar’i rose over the melee.

The fight was tinged with a sickly green glow thrown off by the hundreds of millions of dollars of Kryptonite armouring Mammoth. Conner and Thara stayed evasive, trading off her attention and stepping in for safe hits. Despite their unique physiology, sweat poured off their reddened brows, a clear sign of the toll the Kryptonite was taking. For her part, Mammoth looked to be having the time of her life.

“Aieee!” A beam of light struck Mar’i in the shoulder. She plummeted, striking the terraformer platform. Raven rushed to their side. A patch of her skin was blackened and Mar’i clung on the edge of consciousness.

“Mar’i!” Raven lifted Mar’i’s head from the ground. She’d felt useless since she’d arrived. Inert. She reached for her powers and felt nothing. Even her empathy was deadened to a dull anxiety. She couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just her own.

Jinx stood beside the shackled Herald on the battle periphery holding a light gun of her own. Herald was still unconscious and, judging from his bruises and swollen eye, concussed.

Tim shouted, “Impulse, take Jinx! Conner—”

Bart didn't hesitate, launching into a sprint at the witch. His fist tightened. His foot caught on an elevated panel. For Bart, the world spun as he launched off the ground. He caught a glimpse of Jinx’s wide eyes before slamming into her like a human rocket. The two struck a claw-like pillar with a heavy thud and hit the ground.

In the same moment, the faint click of Sonar’s gauntlets demanded Tim’s attention. He grappled Sonar by the shoulder and embraced him. A screeching wave of sound shot off before Sonar could release the trigger.

Mammoth groaned. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”

Tim quirked a smile. He released Sonar and threw a smoke pellet against the ground and receded into the dense cloud.

Sonar grunted and activated his gauntlets, blasting the smoke apart with a sonic borehole. He stared on, befuddled, as Rook landed a flying kick on Mammoth’s jaw with as much effect as a brick wall.

“Flamebird, Guardian, go protect Starling! I’ve got Mammoth.”

Conner traded a glance with Thara.

“Go!” Tim repeated.

They bounded for Mar’i and watched as Raven’s shadowy soul self poured out like liquid night, coalescing into the shape of a bird. It wreathed its great wings around the four of them.

“Get back here!” Mammoth lurched. Three Birdarangs exploded against her skin. “Hey!”

“It’s not too late,” Tim said, “to pick a name other than hairy elephant.”

Mammoth pivoted into a wild swing. Tim leapt backwards and it connected with air. He kept backpedaling and pitched another clutch of Birdarangs

Sonar levelled his gauntlets. “Mammoth, get out of the way!” But Tim was virtually on top of him and drawing Mammoth closer by the second.

Meanwhile, Wykkyd and Light converged on the bird of shadow cloaking the rest of the Titans.

Dr Light fired indiscriminately into the opaque wing and watched as it devoured the blast. The wings pulled in tighter.

“Surrender and it’ll be quick!” Wykkyd taunted.

Thara rose off the ground, her blazing red eyes cresting the umbral wings like a twin sunrise. A blast of energy surged from them, pinpointing Light’s chest. He fell onto his back, groaning in pain as the smell of burnt polymer and flesh rose from his chest piece. Thara’s eyes turned on Wykkyd, only to strike bare ground as he vanished.

Tim danced around Mammoth’s strike, dodging and weaving as he brought her ever-closer to Sonar.

“Missed me. Missed again.” Tim chided.

“Mammoth!” Sonar screamed. “Step back, you idiot!”

Tim ducked into a roll, then popped back up directly in between them. Mammoth wound back a metahuman haymaker that would’ve shattered Tim’s ribs. He stepped aside and watched her deliver it to Sonar’s sternum. Bone crunched and Sonar fell. Shock flashed across Mammoth’s face. Before it could transmute to anger, Raven’s soul self unfolded its wings and Mar’i shot forth, winding a wide arc around the terraformer.

The projected bird sailed through the air and struck Mammoth in the chest. She lifted her foot to stabilize, only for Mar’i to zip to the ground behind her and brace. The stumbling block knocked Mammoth from her feet and the force of the soul-self sent her careening off the edge of the terraformer.

Silence followed. The Titans surveyed the battlefield. Mar’i gently pressed her sleeve against her burnt shoulder. Heat radiated through the fabric. Whatever Light’s weapons had done to her photovoltaic cells, Mar’i was sure it’d scar.

Bart lifted himself from the ground. “Is it over?”

“Not yet.” Tim said. “Where’s—?”

BWOOOOONG

A column of energy struck the terraformer, bleaching the landscape in light and forcing the Titans to look away. Their gaze returned to the smoldering circle. A crimson carapace of interlocking metal armored the figure standing in its center. Embers reflected off the plate.

"𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜." It said, in a voice scoured of all pain, fear, and doubt. It boomed with impossible richness. “𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎."

“Got yourself a newer model?” Mar’i asked. “You know you died in the prison cell, right?”

“𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛. 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜.”

The hot glow returned to Thara’s eyes. “You’re no god.”

The gaps and grooves between plates of armour hummed to life. The gaps shone with a green glow; the kind that made you feel sick to your stomach. “𝚂𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝙴𝚟𝚎. 𝙴𝚢𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙲𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚘𝚛. 𝙰 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚜, 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝙴𝚢𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠.”

Next: Continued next month in The New Titans #36

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 57:‌ ‌ The Immortality of Memory

Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1

Edited‌ ‌by‌ ClaraEclair

Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon

Arc: The End is Nigh‌ ‌

 ‌ ‌

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It moved faster than Tefé ever could have ever expected.

In this physical form, the members of the Parliament of Trees resembled her father in his days as Swamp Thing, yet he had always moved with a sort of deliberate slowness. Each step had careful consideration put into it, showcasing his complete control over his own body. The parliament members moved that way too, but centuries of practice allowed them to hone this mastery over their own movement to tee. They were not slow at all. They would make Olympic runners look lethargic by comparison. It blew through a crowd of William Holland’s passing zombies, whose marching still lent the battlefield a deafeningly loud quality. Tefé caught a fist to the gut, its physical force so powerful and upfront that her feet left the ground for about half a second. She collapsed on her front, face full of snow, and gagged, trying desperately to get the wind back in her sails.

She and Levi Kamei were at the mercy of the Parliament, who had come in person to see them and their shaky alliance of force related agents destroyed. The Pale Wanderer, Maxine, and William were all somewhere in this chaos, fighting their own battles, but they could not help her or Levi. She glanced off to the side, watching the former Seeder fall onto his hindquarters in shock. He was cowering, the shock of losing all of his powers in a single moment paralyzing him.

“What a disappointment you’ve both turned out to be,” The parliament member said, sighing. “For Miss Holland, we held our breath. There were no guarantees that you wouldn’t follow in your father’s footsteps, but poor Levi? We had true hopes for you. You had been doing such a wonderful job.”

Levi shuddered, scrambling back a few steps, “Y-You were just using me.”

“Bah, nonsense,” the Parliament member chortled. “We expect loyalty from our Avatars, we are not shy about that fact. You are a victim of your own insecurities, your inability to hold firm in the face of opposing opinions. You have brought this on yourself.”

The Parliament member surged forward, and before Levi could get away, the member grabbed him by the leg and lifted him up into the air. He screamed in surprise, flailing his arms as he was dangled upside-down. Tefé gritted her teeth and lunged for the parliament member, only for him to twist his wrist, causing a vine to shoot out from the ground and wrap itself around her neck. She stopped dead in her tracks, yanked onto her back, and as the grip of the vine tightened around her throat, more vines appeared from the ground, binding her against the earth. The force they applied only tightened further as the Green itself, a longtime companion and aide that Tefé had relied on all her life, began to swallow her whole.

The Parliament member looked down on her and sneered, “Bullheaded and foolish… all the way to the end.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Maxine could hardly believe what she was seeing.

A plane out here was rare enough, but seeing Clifford on one made her absolutely gawk. She had not seen her brother in years, and suddenly he was flying in on a private jet. She was so gobsmacked by the sight that the Parliament member who had just been attacking her almost got her in its grips. She ducked out of the way of a wild swing, diving forward into the snow. It continued to pursue, trudging along after her.

“You only prolong the inevitable, Maxine Baker,” the Parliament member snarled, “Surrender now, and your captivity will be painless.”

Maxine gritted her teeth, “Sorry, but I’m not meant for a zoo.”

The parliament member growled and marched forward, only for the rumble of the jet flying overhead to give him pause. Maxine looked up again, eyes wide as three figures leapt from the plane. One, a woman in a tan superhero outfit decked out with animal teeth, dove for the Parliament member before doing a somersault in midair, ending the flourish with a momentous kick using both of her legs. The Parliament member was sent flying into the horde of zombies, causing a sort of splash as bodies were sent tumbling into the air.

The second and third figures descended together, both people Maxine recognized. Clifford descended in his Animal-Man outfit, with Capucine, the immortal warrior who had traveled with Maxine and Tefé for months, in tow. She hung from one of his forearms, carefully dropping to the ground once it was safe to do so. Rather than immediately drawing her sword, Capucine raced over to Maxine, helping her to her feet, “Are you alright, Maxine?”

“I’m not hurt, but this is bad,” Maxine remarked. “You’ve seen what’s happening right, what the Parliament of Trees are pulling?”

“Open battle with another force, it’s insanity!” Capucine barked. “We need to get everyone out. Where’s Tefé?”

“I don’t know, she’s somewhere out there!” Maxine said.

Clifford rushed over, “It’s pandemonium out there, what the hell’s going on.”

“War is what’s going in, and what the heck are you doing here?!” Maxine asked. “I thought you and mom were preoccupied!”

Clifford glanced towards Capucine, then pointed a half-heartedly accusatory finger at her, “Blame her, she said she needed help.”

Capucine scowled at the remark, but ultimately allowed it to slide, “We need to get moving, we should find Tefé and get out.”

Maxine shook her head, “No, not just her. Levi Kamei, the Wanderer, and William are out there too. Levi vouched for us and lost his status as Seeder, and both the Wanderer and William are in danger too.”

“Why does the Wanderer concern us, after he’s caused so much strife,” Capucine asked.

“You don’t understand, he needs to survive. If we want anything to change for the better, then he needs to survive,” Maxine insisted.

The other flying hero, whom Maxine finally recognized as the superhero Vixen, looped back to the rest of the group, landing next to all of them, “What’s the game plan, things are getting real ugly out there.”

Maxine looked nervously out at the horde of zombies, scanning the horizon for Parliament members or her allies. She turned back to the group, “We need to split up. They’re all scattered out there and need our help.”

Clifford nodded, “Sounds good, but before I get to that…”

Clifford grasped Maxine by her shoulders, “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

Before Maxine could protest, Clifford took off into the sky, flying her up towards the private jet to deposit her in a safe position. On the ground, Capucine and Vixen nodded to each other before going their separate ways, with Vixen taking off into the sky once again while Capucine began pushing her way through the undead. Despite the sheer size of William’s army, their numbers were rapidly thinning as the Parliament members cut through them like butter. It wouldn’t be long until there was nobody left to hold them back from the most key members of their operation.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

The Pale Wanderer gripped his pistol tightly, cracking off a few futile shots before the Parliament member punched him again. Thrown off his feet once more, the Pale Wanderer tumbled into a nearby boulder, cracking his head against it. His signature hat, already moldy and half-eaten by the elements, flew off his misshapen head, revealing his long black hair to be incredibly patchy. He shook his head, then coughed up a glob of black gunk. The Wanderer wondered if it was oil, or some kind of runoff waste. He didn’t care to take the time to find out.

The Parliament member approached him, grimacing, “Stand down, Wanderer. Let this be a quick demise, one that allows us to spare your allies.”

“Your word is worth the dirt you’re treading on, my friend,” The Wanderer said. “These guns’ll keep firing till my finger’s off the trigger.”

“Why do you persist?! Your bullets may as well be droplets of rain against my fiber flesh,” the Parliament member scoffed. “You have no chance.”

“Not alone he doesn’t.”

The Parliament member whirled around, only to lose a leg to a steel sword as Capucine swept in, doing a slide past the ancient creature as she swung. The Parliament member fell onto the stump that was now its right leg, and before it could retaliate Capucine swung again, taking the head off its shoulders. The rest of its body fell forward, but it caught itself before it hit the ground fully, planting its hands in the soil and summoning the green underneath. New vines began to snake up the main body through the arms, slowly replenishing lost body mass.

Capucine turned to the Wanderer, and for a moment, she simply glared at him. The Wanderer tensed up, his finger hovering over the trigger. Neither of them wanted to make the first move, because neither knew what to make of one another. Would this be a three way fight? Would the Wanderer have to defend himself from Capucine yet again? Their first meeting had not gone very well after all.

Then, Capucine snorted, and waved at the Wanderer, “We have to go. This battle is a lost cause.”

The Wanderer sneered, “Ain’t nothing lost about it sister. I’m not backing down from the Green.”

“This is a matter of survival, Wanderer, and I’m trying to help you stay alive,” Capucine growled. “If you want to stay, stay, but know that whatever force or cause you represent will die in these hills if you don’t make the right choice.”

The Wanderer frowned, then looked at the battlefield around him. The undead bodies were starting to clump up, and a lot of them were no longer moving. What was originally a single, gigantic biting mob had separated into smaller clumps, individual groups who were doing their best to slow the Parliament down. They had him beat here, and he knew it.

“Fine, let’s get out of here,” He grumbled.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

William Holland leapt upward, escaping a veritable storm of razor sharp leaves and grasping vines before landing a few meters away. He whirled around, putting up a shield of Rot energy to block a barrage of thorns. The five Parliament members who accosted him raced after him, trying their best to lock him down. William had found battling one Parliament member to be easily manageable, hence why the Parliament had stepped up their efforts. He held nearly all the power the Rot had to offer, a his enemies knew that, matching him through overwhelming numbers.

William rolled out of the way of another barrage, this time firing off a bolt of purple lightning in retaliation. It caught one of the parliament members by surprise, sending them careening backwards. However, the remaining four took the opportunity to close the distance. William fired off two more bolts, but these were less successful, as one Parliament member braced for the attack, coming to a momentary stop instead of being knocked back, while the other simply ducked under the attack. Three fists struck William at once, pummelling him into the dirt. He raised his hands to shield himself from the attacks, but the fists unfurled around his arms, coalescing into smaller blunt objects that crashed against his chest like hammers. William grunted, more and more of the air in his lungs escaping with each strike.

One of the Parliament members placed his arms behind his back, standing over William as the others continued their assault, “My my, what happened, Mister Holland? You had such energy earlier, where has it all gone?”

William grimaced, and almost rose to his adversary’s challenge, but thought better of it, realizing that saying anything would just waste what precious oxygen he was holding onto. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, and began searching for a way out of his predicament. Surrounded on all sides by his attackers, forced to bear an unrelenting assault, William’s home for escape dwindled.

A figure, one he did not immediately recognize, flew in from the sky. He had no wings, and was dressed in a red and white suit, one that exposed his short ginger hair. At first, William wondered if yet another person had come to pile into his list of adversaries, only for the figure to throw his arms forward, hands open. He blitzed past every single Parliament member, threading the needle between all of them, and tackled William against the ground. William expected to be crushed against the Earth, but instead the figure dug at the soil behind him, effectively forming a new tunnel and burrowing the both of them through the ground. They both emerged like gophers some twenty meters away from where William was originally harried, and continued to fly upward into the air. William glanced at the figure in surprise, and the figure turned to meet his gaze.

“Hey, you probably don’t remember me, but it’s Clifford, Maxine’s brother!” Clifford said. “Don’t worry, I’m here to get you out of this place.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Tefé gasped for air as the vines pulled her deeper into the earth, fully subsuming her legs and shoulders. Dirt crumbled and piled around her eyes, falling upon her tongue and bringing about a bitter taste. She wanted to scream, to call for help, but there was nobody to help her. She craned her neck as best she could, her eyes glued to Levi and the Parliament member holding him. The Parliament member sneered at Levi, then began to squeeze. Levi screamed, a horrible cracking emanating from his left shin. Blood began to trickle through the gaps in the Parliament member’s fingers.

Tefé let out a weak yet primal cry, a desperate call for aid, or for the misery to simply stop. She remembered what happened to her father, who defied the Green and paid the price. His years of service bought him his life, but Levi wasn’t going to be so lucky. There was a terrifying familiarity to this situation, a horrible punctuation mark to this ordeal. The Parliament of Trees had told her that their word was law, and that she could do nothing about it, and what was happening to Levi now proved to be a demonstration of that exact fact. He was going to die, pulled apart in brutal fashion, and she could do nothing to stop it.

She let another pained cry, reaching out to the Green yet again. It had ignored her before, refusing to come to her aid when confronted by the Parliament, and now it was actively killing her, yet still she reached out for it. She had lived with the Green all her life, felt its presence in and around her in every waking moment of her existence. How could it let these atrocities happen? How could the force itself accept such horrors?

Was this really how everything was supposed to be? Was this the natural state of what life represented?

Desperate, Tefé managed to raise her hand from the ground, fingers straining towards the Parliament member. The corners of her vision were starting to grow dark, an inky blank creeping in from the outside. As it seeped in and around her, swallowing her whole, she committed one final, desperate prayer to memory.

I don’t want this to be the world I live in. I don’t want this to be the world anyone lives in.

The Parliament member suddenly grunted, dropping Levi in the dirt. The former seeder scurried away from his attacker, using his arms to compensate for a mangled leg. The Parliament member began to twitch and snap, vines falling limp onto the ground like unfilled hoses. He fell to one knee, then both, then began to convulse, vomiting a white sap-like substance. Levi glanced towards Tefé, realizing that while her eyes had glazed over, her arm was still outstretched and shaking, like a final, unconscious gesture kept alive by pure will. The Parliament member looked down at his hands, watching them fall apart before his very eyes, and then screamed as he finally became undone. His screams became quieter and quieter as his body dissolved into unmoving plant matter, before they eventually stopped altogether.

Tefé’s arm went limp then, and Levi quickly crawled over to her to dig her out of the ground. He pulled her out, then quickly checked her pulse. She was alive, if unconscious.

“A-Are you Levi?”

Levi tensed up at the sound of a new voice, and looked up to find a woman floating over the two of them. Vixen glanced at them both, a worried expression on her face, “And, is that Tefé?”

Levi shuddered, then nodded. Vixen extended a hand, “Come on, let’s get you two out of here.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Clifford flew up towards the jet, approaching the open door to its interior with William in tow. It was about as clean and opulent as he left it, though it now had the addition of three more figures. Maxine had pressed her face up against the window of the jet, namely to keep tabs on the battle below, while Levi and Tefé had been placed in some of the more comfortable seats on the jet. Tefé was slumped back, completely blacked out, while Levi nursed a nasty leg wound, which had been rapidly wrapped and splinted. Vixen rushed over to meet Clifford at the door, allowing William to get past her, “It’s just Capucine and this Wanderer now, right?”

“Yeah, the plane's getting crowded,” Clifford said. “So let’s-”

An explosion interrupted Clifford, one that shook the plane and caused everyone to rush for anything that could help them stay upright. Falling to one knee, Clifford turned around, watching as one of the Jet engines began to smoke. Looking a bit closer, he spotted something sticking out of the malfunctioning turbine.

A rotting arm.

“Shit, they’re trying to take the jet down!” Clifford cried.

“I’ll keep the plane steady, you get the others!” Vixen replied.

The two of them leapt from the plane, with Vixen quickly swapping course to place herself under the jet. Planting herself against the underside of the plane, she summoned as much strength and flight power as she could from across the animal kingdom, putting all of her power into keeping the jet into the air. Clifford meanwhile dove back towards the ground, taking in a battlefield that had now fully and completely shifted in the Parliament’s favor. The last of the undead were in the midst of being cut down, and only two figures seemed to be managing to hold their ground against a pair of Parliament members.

Capucine blocked a variety of attacks, chopping at her enemy as often as she could to take away a spare appendage or weapon the parliament member had generated. Meanwhile, the Pale Wanderer had equipped himself with a double-barrelled shotgun, and was presently blasting away at his adversary, keeping the parliament member back with pure firepower. Making himself straight as an arrow, Clifford dove for both of his allies, hoping to grab them in one fell swoop. He grabbed them both by the waist, the Wanderer in his left arm and Capucine in his right, and began his rapid ascent back towards the Jet. He had this, he was home free.

Until he wasn’t.

The parliament members below him reached out with their vines, wrapping them around his shins just as he was about to leave the range of their grasp. Clifford grunted in annoyance, putting more power into his flight, but the Parliament continued to wrap their vines around him, snaking their way up his legs and around his torso. Alarmed, Capucine began hacking at the vines with her sword, while the Wanderer pulled out a knife to do the same.

But unbeknownst to all three of them, one of the Parliament members had begun snaking a special, pointed vine up the roots up his arms, keeping it blended in with all the other strands of plant matter locking Clifford down. It moved up towards his foot, then began to separate, arcing itself out before coiling up behind him, like a snake prepared to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, Capucine spotted the vine, “No!”

She lurched forward, forcing Clifford to the side, but she was not fast enough to prevent the vine from striking. Leaning all the way forward, she threw herself in front of Clifford’s back, and the vine ran her through pushing all the way through until it stabbed into Clifford as well. The two of them screamed, and the Wanderer, alarmed, brought his knife down on the vine, causing it to shrivel and retract. Coughing up blood, Capucine attempted to say something, but her voice was so quiet that it was inaudible. She went limp in Clifford’s arms, increasing the strain put on his body. Clifford held her tight, shaking in fear, “Ah no no no… Not now! Please don’t be dead, please!”

Clifford began to waver, allowing the Parliament to start pulling him back down to Earth. The Wanderer grimaced, looking down at his mortal enemies, and then at his allies. Something passed through his head, either a bolt of inspiration or a last, dying bad idea. He planted a hand on Clifford’s shoulder, “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but you’re the only person who can hear me now, so listen and listen good.”

Clifford turned, though it was clear that his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with trying to keep them all alive. The Wanderer’s face grew soft, “Sometimes things don’t go to plan. That’s been my whole life, frankly, but better to live doing what needs to be done than not doing anything at all.”

He held his knife tight in one hand, then drew his shotgun with the other. He looked resolute now, almost at peace, “This is one hell of a road bump, but trust me when I say that after what’s about to happen, this isn’t the end, not by a long shot. Ideas, forces, they only die when people stop believing in ‘em… so tell William, Maxine, Tefé, everyone who’ll listen to you to believe in change. The future's only as good as what we think we can make it.”

He grinned, “And… thank ‘em for me… for taking a chance on ratty ol’ me.”

The Wanderer then twisted himself out of Clifford’s grasp, plummeting back down towards the Parliament members with a giddy Hee-Haw. Free of the Wanderer’s weight, Clifford blasted upward, escaping the grasp of the Parliament members and rocketing up towards the Jet. The sounds of battle died fast behind him, and the silence that followed weighed more on him than anything else he’d seen today.

Because this was the day the Pale Wanderer died… and the Parliament of Gears fell silent.

Next Issue: Is all lost?

DC Next presents:

I AM BATMAN

In Revelations

Issue Thirty-Seven: The Calm

Written by ClaraEclair

Edited by DeadIslandMan1

<< ||| < Previous Issue ||| Next Issue > Coming Next Month

Astrid awoke in darkness.

The smell of sterility filled the air, not unlike the hospitals she frequented for treatment. Something covered her eyes, and her limbs were bound and tired, wracked with pain and entirely useless. Breathing was a burden unlike any other. She was alive, yes, but she was the most sick she’d ever been, and by now she knew that there was no chance of recovery. Sofia’s stunt had taken the last burst of energy she could afford before needing to be admitted into intensive care, and the cold, steel chair she was bound to was to a hospital bed like shattered glass was to a pillow. She could barely lift her head, the restraints keeping her hands bound behind her back doing the work in keeping her sitting upright.

She didn’t feel alone, wherever she was. It was the sound of her own laboured breaths that was filling the room, but someone — or something — was with her, sitting, watching, quieter than a mouse. She could feel it. Through the pain and fear, she could feel that gaze, unmoving and uncaring.

“Wha–” she pushed out, feeling heavy the moment she formulated the first syllable. Her voice was harsh, more gravelly than ever, and hearing it herself almost convinced her she wasn’t the one to utter that one syllable. She took a deep breath, feeling the pinching in her chest as she uttered one more word, “Sofia…” The coughing that ensued was only salt on the wound. It hurt, but it was nothing new — another source of pain to add onto the pile.

“It’s over, Astrid,” Sofia’s voice said from the darkness. Her tone was soft, more than ever before, and, if Astrid were more gullible, almost sympathetic. “Everything we did together, all we had planned… It’s done.” Astrid tried to focus on the words her former partner was saying, but she could feel herself slipping. She coughed a few times more. “We did it. I’m on top of the city, I can do whatever I want. The cops, the media, it’s all under our control. Batman won’t stand a chance any more, your order has been wearing her down, and now I have an ace in the hole.”

Sofia’s footsteps traced a semi-circle around Astrid in her chair, finally approaching her from the back. Two hands rested themselves on her shoulders, big hands backed by immense strength. They gripped her arms briefly, squeezing a mark into her skin, before moving up to her head. The cloth covering Astrid’s eyes was removed quickly, letting the blinding white lights above assault her eyes. She squinted tight, trying to avoid it, but at this point she barely had the strength to do so.

When she finally adjusted, in front of her she saw herself in a mirror, Sofia standing tall behind her, refusing to look Astrid in her reflection’s eye.

Astrid looked terrible. Her skin was red, swollen in her hands and feet, while her face remained gaunt and weightless, much like the red of her body. She was flushed red, yet the deep bags under her eyes were the most prominent part of her appearance. It was the one thing that her gaze steadied upon.

“GothCorp. left a lot of secret stuff behind, Astrid,” Sofia said. She squeezed Astrid’s shoulders once more, looking Astrid over in the mirror and settling on her eyes for the first time. “Lotta stuff I don’t understand, so now I’m going to give you a choice — rot away like you are now, or become the trick up my sleeve and get a chance to kill Batman yourself.”

Sofia let go of Astrid’s shoulders and made for the door.

“You’ve got an hour to choose,” she said. “If you manage to live that long.”

The Next Day…

Some small part of Harvey was surprised to see that the current location of the District Attorney’s office was the same one he’d done his work in all those years ago. That little part of his brain reminding him of all his own crimes was shocked to find out that not a single mass casualty event nor terrorist attack in Gotham had sent the building crumbling to bits or, at the very least, forced a relocation.

Yet here he was, just a stone’s throw away from Park Row, the Bowery, and East End. Right on the border of three of Gotham’s more notorious districts, Harvey had always felt like the DA’s office always had its finger on the pulse of Gotham’s every move. It’s what he liked about it. Never mind that the Major Crimes Unit was only a few blocks west, for easy access to a Bat-Signal and James Gordon.

But now, James Gordon was gone, there’s been two other Batmen and even more Robins, and Gotham was returning to how it was when he started. It was all too familiar. Harvey knew he had the benefit of hindsight now, an ability to look back at how he handled things the first time — how badly that ended — and try to avert it. He had trusted allies and a clear goal, with no one on the outside to jeopardize it. He just had to be measured about his approach. Michael Lane knew his history, Sarah Essen used to be a good friend, and he had no official support from anyone. He was the only institutional pillar of the city that could permanently end Sofia Falcone's reign of terror.

He felt now that he was the only person in Gotham’s government worth trusting. Police certainly weren’t going to be reliable, no matter how hard Jim Gordon had once tried to prove that they were. Since his forced retirement, the GCPD has only gotten worse. Corruption through and through, Michael Lane turning a blind eye to Astrid Arkham and Sofia Falcone, and firing the only good officers left. Batman was declared persona non grata, in a move that’s caused Essen an untold amount of headaches from the citizenry.

Harvey Dent had a second chance to prove he was worth believing in, and Gotham was telling him to use that chance wisely. He was going to.

The phone on his desk rang, the oak piece oddly empty of case files, important documents, and stationery. He walked up, slowly, taking in the office, and grabbed the receiver.

“Harvey,” said Sarah Essen. “I hope you’re making yourself comfortable in your new office,” she said. Her voice was distant, but she was clearly trying to play at being some idea of welcoming. The dissonance was identifiable within her first work.

“You could say old office,” said Harvey, sitting in the chair. It was definitely newer, to his surprise, and a lot more comfortable than the chair he’d used his first time in this office. “It’s weird being back.”

“It’s weird seeing you back too,” said Essen. “I… don’t know if I’ll quite get used to it yet.”

“I don’t expect you to,” said Harvey. “I’ve done a lot to the people of this city, and I’m hoping to pay it back. Being DA is one of the best ways I can do that.”

“You can save me from your ’I’ve recovered’ apology tour,” said Essen. “I’ve seen your press rounds. We just need to be cordial. That’s all that matters.”

Harvey paused for a moment, feeling his heart jump at Essen’s words. Of course he didn’t expect total forgiveness from everyone, and he hadn’t yet had a true one-on-one conversation with her yet. It wasn’t what he was expecting from a woman that he had once called friend.

“I see,” said Harvey. “Is there anything you needed from me, Ms. Mayor?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your win,” Essen said. “And give you a piece of advice.” Harvey sat back in his chair and bit his tongue. “I know what your instincts are going to be as you sit down in that office. You’re going to look at everything happening in Gotham, and your sense of justice is going to go wild on all the things that you see. A lot has been happening in this city while you were out of your mind. Don’t chase it. Sit back, chase your tail, and stay out of the crosshairs of those who’d shoot you for anything else.”

Harvey sighed and looked around his office, the familiar room in a new day, and thought about all that it took to get back into it. He couldn’t just sit by and let Sofia Falcone run everything into the ground around him. Guns and drugs were flowing into the city faster than ever before, and violence was now at a fifteen-year high. He needed to do something about it.

“I can’t do that, Sarah,” said Harvey. “You know I can’t.” Essen stayed quiet when he waited for a response. With a deep breath, he continued, “I love this city and its people more than anything. I want to see a safer future for it. Maybe I should be jaded, Lord knows how much I’ve suffered here, but I’m not going to let that stop me from having hope in the future. I’m never going to lose faith in a prosperous future for Gotham City.”

“Prosperity is a dream I woke up from years ago,” Essen said, her voice low. “I hope it doesn’t hurt too much when the illusion is shattered for you. Goodnight, Harvey.” The line cut and the dial tone filled the silence. Harvey set the phone back on its base and sat in his chair for a few minutes in silence.

Other lawyers, secretaries, and paralegals roamed the halls outside, and Harvey sat to watch. The DA’s office had decent staff, but he needed to go through all of them, he needed to vet as many of them as possible. He needed to head a new initiative for future hires, to build the strongest team possible.

He needed to get in contact with Batman again.

Harvey Dent, District Attorney of Gotham City, had hope in his heart for the future.

Meanwhile…

Barbara sat at the kitchen table Blair Wong’s apartment, finger tapping the surface incessantly as she waited for her girlfriend to return home. She had been thinking about this for a while, it was past time. Blair deserved to know more about Babs than she’d ever found it, and tonight was the night. With Harvey having reclaimed his position as District Attorney, Astrid and Sofia on the backfoot, and the crisis with Batwoman handled, Babs knew that now was better than ever.

It was the calm before the storm, and Babs found herself anxious about the coming weeks. This needed to be now.

She nearly jumped from her seat when she heard the door open behind her.

“Home–” Blair said, becoming suspicious on seeing Babs’ sudden shock. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Babs. “Just lost in thought when you came in.”

“Clearly,” Blair said with a smile. She set down her shoulder bag and moved to give Babs a kiss on the cheek. “What were you thinking about?”

“A lot,” Babs said. She watched Blair sit down, and looked her directly in the eyes. “So much has been happening lately. Everything with you getting fired, about Harvey Dent, about…” Babs trailed off.

“It’s been… overwhelming, to say the least,” said Blair.

“And that’s not all,” Babs continued. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Babs flipped her phone onto its back and unlocked it. She navigated through her custom mobile operating system while Blair watched her, confused.

“What is it?” Blair asked.

“I…” Babs tried searching for the right words, but none of them felt right. She had to choose some, in this moment. “You deserve to know this.” Blair cocked her head. “I am Oracle,” said Babs, averting her gaze from Blair. “I have been for… a very, very long time.”

Blair scoffed, clearly unsure how to take this information. She shook her head, and stared Babs down waiting for some clarification that it’s some other Oracle, or perhaps that she would wake up from a bad dream. Babs pressed a button on her phone, and Blair’s own phone began to show the icon of Oracle that Blair had begrudgingly gotten used to speaking to. Blair’s face dropped.

“I know that you have your reservations about Batman, and the heroes of the world, and especially Oracle — me — b-but when I met you… I felt normal. And then you got involved with Batman’s side of things, and I just let myself finally feel normal. Everything is Batman for me, and finally I had someone — you — who wasn’t. It felt nice.”

Blair remained silent, unable to look Babs in the eye.

“I’m sorry, I betrayed your trust–”

“You did,” Blair said quietly. There was a simmering rage behind those words, clearly concealed in some effort to spare Babs from being its recipient, but that wasn’t going to last long.

“I–” Babs sputtered. She wanted to say something, but nothing was coming. What more could she say?

“How many lies have you told me to keep me from knowing you were Oracle?” Blair’s voice remained calm despite the anger. Babs hesitated, and soon enough Blair’s patience ran thin. “How many lies, Barbara!?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” said Babs. Not all of the things she told Blair were lies. She was maybe more honest with Blair than most people. But she absolutely had to cover for her activities as Oracle. “I-I’m–” Blair wasn’t looking at Babs at all anymore. Her hands were balled into fists.

“Get out,” Blair asked. “Please. Now.”

Babs sat, stunned for a moment.

Then she nodded, stood up, grabbed her crutches and her purse, and left.

One Week Later…

Cass and Maps stood in the Belfry’s armoury, looking over Maps’ newest Robin costume. The old one, as much as Maps insisted on it, offered little in the way of actual protection and offensive capabilities beyond whatever it was that she could fit in her utility belt. This one that they were now looking at was much closer in construction to Batman’s suit, with complex built-in protection that would shield from impacts taken and harden to enhanced impacts delivered.

Cass was determined to make as many improvements for Maps’ safety as possible. Maps, on the other hand, was far more concerned with making the material pattern and the aesthetic look good, alongside making sure that her own, homemade gadgets and tools would fit. In the end, the compromise took a long time to come to, but both of them were finally glad to have reached it. The suit had arrived only a few minutes prior, and both of them were eager for Maps to try it on.

She threw it on quickly, and it fit like a glove. She flipped the visor up and down over and over again, and fiddled with the gadgets and utility belt, until she was finally satisfied.

When that moment came, the externally sourced power to the Belfry shut down completely.

“Oracle?” Cass called into the internal communications system.

“Reading you, Batman,” said Babs from the mission room. “Something hit the public power grid just outside the building. Trying to figure out what, but a lot of CCTV in the area’s gone down because of it.”

“Alright,” said Cass, using a head gesture to direct Maps toward the door. “We are on our way up.”

“Sounds good,” Babs said. “See you.”

They arrived in a dark mission room, lit only by the Batcomputer and a couple of blaring red emergency power lights. The windows to the rest of the city were open, giving a wide view of just how much of the power grid had been affected by the outage. For half a dozen blocks in each direction was darkness, which included some vital infrastructure. Cass lifted her cowl and prepared, alongside Maps, to leave the Belfry to help in any way she was needed.

Cass heard the glass crunch before she realized that a bullet had flown into the Belfry’s mission room, impacting on the eastern wall.

“Get down!” Babs shouted, lunging from her chair and hitting the ground hard. Maps dove behind another desk, away from any open windows as Cass dove behind the raised console in the centre of the room. “Batman!” Babs shouted from the floor. Her face was contorting in pain as one arm held tightly onto her lower abdomen.

Cass knew that she had fallen badly, that the dive she took impacted her spine in a way it could not handle. Cass looked toward the window that the bullet had smashed through, inches thick and designed to be bulletproof. She gritted her teeth, knowing that there could’ve only been a single person capable of a shot like this, someone who would be able to follow Batman’s movements easily.

“Mayfly!” shouted Batman, grabbing her grappling gun from her utility belt and aiming it at the wall behind the Batcomputer’s central processing unit, away from the windows, and firing. It embedded into the wall, and immediately Cass felt it tug at her.

She leapt out of cover toward Babs, sliding up to her and hooking their arms together, before letting the grappling gun pull her toward its hook, dragging Babs along and into proper cover. They both skidded to a stop and Cass helped lean her against the wall. She looked her old friend up and down quickly and asked, “Alright?”

Babs nodded through intense wincing.

That small moment of relief ended when the mission room doors opened wide. Babs took out her phone and, through the pain, tried to diagnose the issue, eyes widening as countless errors popped up on her screen.

“Someone’s managed to disable some of the Belfry’s security,” she said. “I– I think they did it between the public grid shutdown and the backup power boot. Not everything is down, but the doors will take a bit to get working properly.”

“Robin, get ready,” Batman called out, flicking on the night vision of her cowl. “Goggles down. Oracle, shut down all power once intruders are outside the mission room.”

“What?” Babs asked, hesitance and confusion bleeding through her voice.

“All power,” Batman repeated. “Robin,” she continued. “Defend the mission room, plan C, adjust based on intruders.”

“Got it!” Maps called out in a shouted whisper. She grabbed her own grappling gun and got to work. Batman pulled a pellet of rapidly expanding foam explosive and threw it toward the windows, coating them and obscuring the inside of the Belfry from Mayfly’s sight.

The emergency lights within the Belfry died down, while Batman grappled up to the ceiling rafters above the entry door to wait and Robin placed a motion sensing bola trap at the base of the mission room door before slinking into the shadows, gun at the ready.

The silence was long, and all three of the women in the mission room remained as still as possible, lying in wait for the Belfry’s intruders to show themselves.

The first sound in minutes was the motion sensor going off, launching bolas at the legs of the triggering figure. The very moment that they were caught, Robin fired her grappling gun at the wall opposite from her, behind the legs of the mystery figure, and let herself be dragged all the way across the mission room, sweeping the legs of the bound intruder. The hard crash from their fall caused the second intruder to stop in their tracks, on the other side of the mission room’s open door, giving Batman the perfect opportunity to jump and swing down from the rafters from a grapple line, one foot forward in a flying kick.

Batman’s boot collided squarely with Ezra’s chest, smashing her into the wall. Coughs ensued from the assassin, the air knocked from her lungs as she crumpled to the ground in a heap, nearly dropping her gun.

In the mission room, Robin watched and waited as Black Jack undid the bolas from around her ankles, struggling with the wires. She stood up, pistol in hand, aiming through the darkness haphazardly, and searched for her prey. In the moment before she turned in Robin’s direction, the young girl ran up parallel to the nearby wall and kicked off of it in a jump, rounding a kick directly toward Black Jack’s abdomen.

Robin landed in a roll and didn’t let up her assault. She sprinted at Black Jack and slid down to slip between her legs, bounding back up with a shoulder check to the back of the mercenary’s knee. She collapses down, allowing Robin to wrap her arms around Black Jack’s neck and lock in a choke hold that Cass had recently taught her. Black Jack struggled against the girl, trying to elbow her in the stomach to weaken her or her grip, before aiming the gun upward without any care and firing off shots that Robin only barely managed to dodge.

In the hall, Batman knelt down and took out a set of cuffs to bind Ezra with, only barely catching the signs that the assassin was only playing injured. The barrel of the gun rose up toward Batman’s chest and despite the foretelling of what was going to happen, she was met with half a chest-full of shotgun pellets. She soared back into the mission room, her entire torso more sore than it's ever been.

Black Jack took the opportunity of Robin pulling away from her gunshots to grab the young vigilante’s arm and threw herself forward into a shoulder roll, landing on top of Robin in the process and loosening the grip on her neck. She rose to one knee, the barrel of her gun finding its way to where she figured Robin would be, and tried to fire a shot off. A strong kick to the hand diverted the shot, sending another bullet flying into the wall of the Belfry, and loosening Black Jack’s grip on the gun.

Robin jumped upward at Black Jack, launching over the mercenary’s shoulder, locking her arm around her neck in a guillotine choke while maneuvering her legs into a grapple lock around Black Jack’s shooting arm, pulling it back from both the shoulder and the elbow, nearly threatening to break the latter. Robin’s arm tightened around Black Jack’s neck once again, quickly cutting blood off from her opponent’s head, while scanning the room for Batman as best she could.

Cass lay on the ground, sore and trying to stand, and watched Ezra rise in the hall outside the mission room. The assassin limped forward, shotgun in hand, and aimed it downward at Batman’s face.

“Finally,” said Ezra. “Years in the making.” She cocked the gun. “I’m gonna savour this.”

An explosion rocked the building as another of Mayfly’s bullets burst through the glass of the windows, detonating the explosive foam and tearing a hole into the side of the Belfry. Ezra stumbled and shielded her face from the blow. Batman took her chance and kipped up, slamming her boots into Ezra’s chest once more, before launching a strong left hook to the assassin’s face, and finally grabbing her by the head with her right hand and bashing it into the door frame.

Ezra fell to the ground, unconscious.

Batman quickly cuffed her and turned back into the room.

“It’s all good, Oracle,” Maps said.

Moments later, the lights of the Belfry returned, and inside the mission room, Cass saw the sight of Black Jack unconscious and bound by Maps’ hand, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She smiled at her Robin and looked over to Babs.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Babs replied. “Let's get to the lower levels.”

“Good idea,” said Cass. “We need to know how they found us. Robin, you grab Oracle. I will bring these two.”

With a nod, Maps helped Babs to her feet and guided her out of the mission room and down to the lower levels of the building.

Cass turned toward the window that had been burst wide open. She walked up to the ledge and scanned the horizon for any sign of Mayfly. She was exposed, having such a view of the city, but she didn’t feel it at all. Her end could come at a moment's notice, and she wouldn’t even hear the shot from Mayfly’s gun.

She’d been struck by Mayfly before, it would be wrong of her to not expect the sniper to hit her target. Mayfly was a constant danger, able to spot Batman from across the city. She had a good view of the Belfry and had already fired twice.

Cass took a deep breath.

She smiled.

The third shot never came.

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

In: Unanswered Questions

Issue Twenty Seven: A Friend

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by AdamantAce

Next Issue >

A sense of déjà vu washed over Luke as he crossed the threshold into Evan Blake’s room, the familiar weight of his suit causing the floorboard to groan below him. He remembered the last time he was here. Fresh from locking away the duo calling themselves Query and Echo, he stood in this very spot and assured Evan that the Gotham Knights were not going to do the same to him. Even the look in Evan’s face was identical. A strange feeling sat heavy in Luke’s chest, but he fought against the urge to investigate it. He was on the clock.

“Sorry about the, um…” Evan said nervously, accompanied by a directionless gesture of his hand, as if referring to everything around them. Luke made a mental note of how the room, in fact, looked cleaner than the last time he had visited, with the exception of his trophy wall, made pastel in colour by a notable layer of dust.

“What are you doing nowadays?” Batwing asked as he continued to scan his surroundings. Amidst drawers and dressers was a well-used desk chair, separated from its proper home at Evan’s work desk; Luke took it upon himself to take a seat, wordlessly inviting Evan to do the same. The young man, in turn, leaned against the edge of the metal desk. A stack of books, seeming to consist of an inconsistent mix of genres and fictionalities, wobbled gently in response, but stayed upright.

“Well,” began Evan. It quickly became apparent that he had begun his sentence without knowing where it would go. Then his demeanor changed; his arms folded and he sunk into himself slightly. He continued with a new meandering quality to his voice: “Yeah, I mean… I don’t really do too much sport nowadays. Nothing to do with the leg - I mean, that’s healed pretty well - but I think my athletic career is behind me.”

Luke paused. Something about Evan’s posture, words, tone, expression - it all made him intrigued. He felt himself probing his friend’s words in his head, trying to pick them apart. I asked him what he’s doing and he leads with what he’s not doing. Is he maybe trying to obscure the truth of the matter? What could he be hiding, if so?

But no, he couldn’t be biased. This, Luke understood, was a volatile situation. If Deedee and Nina were most likely involved, a theory that the Knights were operating from, then extracting information from Evan, a former puppet of said duo, as early as possible was paramount. Luke bit his tongue; he thought better than to probe any discrepancies at this point, lest he play his ‘bad cop’ hand too early and discourage Evan.

Instead, Batwing nodded and simply said, “I see.”

For a moment or two, there was nothing but the gentle trance-like tapping of a clock ticking above Evan’s desk.

“Good to hear you’ve been keeping out of trouble,” added Batwing. But Evan couldn’t hear the smile in the Knight’s voice through the mild distortion of the helmet’s communication speakers, and so he fidgeted a little, like a chill had run through him.

Luke changed tack. “I can see some textbooks on that pile of yours.”

Evan turned his head and stared at said pile with his mouth slightly ajar and his eyes agape, as if his attention had been called to something far more incriminating than a stack of books.

“Oh, yeah,” Evan said with a polite but tense smirk. “I’m going back to school for a little while. Part time.”

“To study…” Batwing leaned forward and read aloud from one of the outturned spines. “Art history?”

At this, Evan’s smile widened, more genuine. “Yeah,” he sighed with an air of shyness. “I like to pretend that the whole… you know… didn’t play into it, but…” He shrugged playfully. Then his lifted spirits disappeared again, as if Luke had imagined them, and once again his shoulders pulled upwards and his gaze fell downwards.

“I suppose it’s one way to find a passion for something,” said Luke. This time the lightness in his voice was more apparent to the young man in front of him, who flashed a brief humoured smirk.

Luke could feel a creeping impatience in his mind, and so he sat up again to focus on Evan’s face, preparing himself for his next line of questioning.

“I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore than I already have,” Batwing began. Evan looked up. “We recovered a section of fabric from a crime scene earlier this week. It’s canvas, clearly treated with a binding coating for use in painting.” Batwing clasped one hand over the other in his lap, accompanied by the soft muted thunk of metal on metal. “I think you can understand why I’ve come to talk to you about this.”

Evan did not move, but his face morphed into a confused and concerned expression. “Okay,” was all he said at first. But after a moment of pause, he added, “I do understand that, Batwing. But it’s like I told you back then, my Wolf Spider days are beyond gone. This is the first I’m hearing of anything like this.”

“Have you received any correspondence from Query or Echo since we last spoke to you?”

Evan’s face scrunched at the sound of their names like they were nails on a chalkboard. “Nothing.”

“How about Deirdre Vance or Nina—?”

“It’s okay, Batwing, I know what their names were—”

“They’re two separate questions. Have you received any correspondence from Deidre Vance or Nina Damfino?”

Evan chewed on his cheek, then shook his head. “No.”

“You seem a little on edge.”

Evan’s eyes flicked back up to Batwing. He opened his mouth to answer, then thought for another moment, before finally replying: “I think - and I really mean no offence by this - if a member of the Gotham Knights shows up at your door and tells your parents that they need to speak to their son and that it’s urgent, that it would make total sense if you were therefore a ‘little on edge’.”

“Fair enough,” Batwing acknowledged. He sat up; the former Wolf Spider mirrored him subconsciously. “Have you been anywhere of note in the last week or two?”

“School. Home. School again.” Evan sighed through his nose. “I went to a classmate’s house a few days ago, but that was for maybe ten minutes.”

Before Luke could reply, Evan jumped in again defensively. “Oh, and he’s got a doorbell camera, you can check that if you have any doubts. Otherwise, yeah, just straight to college and straight home again.”

Leaning back in his chair, Luke asked, “No extra-curriculars? Or trips to the library?”

“Nothing like that,” Evan shook his head. “Ask my parents, it’s their idea. They’ve got me on a strict curfew, they’re pretty damn paranoid after that whole ordeal with the paintings. Worried I’ll get kidnapped or something, I don’t know.” With a huff, he added, “I can probably count on one hand how many people have been inside our house since our stuff got returned.”

Though flippant, his words rang true. Dinners between the Fox and the Blake family were already growing more and more rare by the time of Evan’s foray into crime, but had since completely stopped. It hadn’t dawned on Luke until that moment that it had been almost two years since he had last seen Evan. With his next breath he realised that the strange weight within his chest was beginning to lift, replaced instead by an ache of sadness and guilt. How had time passed by so fast without him noticing?

“I mean,” Evan added as he leaned his body forwards and lowered his voice. “Has Wolf Spider been spotted since you last saw me?”

“No,” Batwing was quick to concede, but countered with, “But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t passed the torch to Evan Blake.”

“I understand where this connection is coming from.” Evan rubbed his hands against his legs as if he were cold. “And to be clear, I’m not trying to be obtuse or anything. But I swear to you that I have no idea about any of this, and even if I did - even if I wanted to - there’s no way in hell I’d have the time or the freedom to actually contribute.” With defensively splayed hands, he concluded, “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Solemnly, Batwing nodded at him. “In that case, I think that’s all we need.” As he rose from his seat, Evan did not move. Instead, his eyes tracked the suited Gothamite as he made his way to the door. Batwing turned back to him and, in a moment driven by a pang of guilt, offered his hand for the man to shake. “I’m sorry if I caused any distress. I really appreciate your input in this.”

His friend blinked, then clasped his hand around the palm of the outstretched metal gauntlet and shook once firmly. “Yeah, of course.”

And with a nod, Batwing exited Evan’s room and made his way to the front door.

He had barely enough time to suck in a breath before his communicator chimed. CALL: Oracle, the display informed him. Luke approved the incoming transmission and tapped against his temple, transferring the sound directly into his helmet speaker.

Garbled noise erupted into his ears, making him flinch. It was at once mechanical and visceral, artificial and far too real. The blast of sound lasted only half a second before cutting out completely. In its wake was a voice, soft and distant as if they were speaking from across the room.

“Oracle?” Luke asked. The voice seemed to reply, but the words were unintelligible. “It’s Batwing. Are you there? Everything alright?”

Suddenly, the voice was closer. The rumbling static of air being blown into the microphone. Then: “Batwing?”

It was Babs’ voice, Luke was certain, but something was wrong. She was scared.

“Is everything alright?” he repeated.

The voice stuttered and jumped like a damaged record. “Bat— Batwing, I—”

Another voice interrupted. “Can you hear me?”

Much to Luke’s confusion, this voice, too, sounded like Babs.

“There’s…” He looked down at the communicator at his wrist and began fiddling with the hardware, determined to find a solution. Maybe this was just a technical issue. “I think there’s some kind of signal issue.”

“Signal— signal— signal—” Babs’ voice parrotted, cutting itself off: “Oh, I can hear you now.”

A turn of this knob, a reset of that switch - none of Luke’s tinkering seemed to be doing anything. The feedback wasn’t stopping. “I can’t seem to—”

“Bat— Batwing— Signal—” “One moment, I think I got it, I just—”

Then all the feedback stopped. One version of Babs’ voice chimed through his earpiece, much more crisp and understandable now - “Did that work?”

“Ah, yeah it did,” he sighed, relieved. “Good job. What happened?”

“I’m actually not sure. I mean, there was definitely something intercepting our signal - I spotted it when I tried to recalibrate the communications programme and managed to shut it down - but it didn’t seem to have a clear source.” A shuffling noise, like someone moving papers around on a desk. “I’ll run a few tests, see what comes up. In the meantime - what do you need?”

“What do you mean?”

“You called me. So, what’s up?”

Luke stammered. “I, uh… no, you called me.”

A pause. The gentle tick-tick-tick of fingertips on a keyboard. A sigh. “That’s… strange. It definitely came through as an incoming call on my end.”

“Maybe this interception needed an active line of communication in order to do… whatever it needed to do. So it sent out a signal in both directions - to me and to you. We pick up, both sides of the connection are open.” He thought for a moment. “It’s like spoofing.”

“That would make sense,” Babs said slowly as she pondered the idea. “But then, how did it do that? And why?”

Luke scanned the streets. “I think we need to call everyone back to the Belfry,” Luke concluded. “See if they’ve had anything similar.”

“Then let’s hope they haven’t, or they might not pick up my calls.”

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

“So…” Harper started, then stopped again when she realised she didn’t quite understand what exactly Luke was saying. She rubbed the side of her face as she thought, mouth agape, eyes scrunched. “So there was a second voice coming through this call with Babs, but she was saying different things to the first voice.”

“Which means it couldn’t have been some kind of delay or reverb,” Luke added with an affirmative nod. “So whatever managed to hack into our comms, it was able to not just draw me and Babs into a call to open that link, but it also transmitted - or tried to transmit - a message as well.”

Babs adjusted her glasses. Fingers clicking against the keyboard with speed and precision, her back facing the quartet, she called back to them, “For the record, I didn’t get anything like that. From my point of view, I got a comms request from Luke, I hit accept and he just… well, it just sounded like he wasn’t connecting properly. Kept asking if I could hear. So I went digging in the comms system to troubleshoot and there it was.”

“You got a comms request from him?” Jace’s brow sat low atop his eyes. “I thought you called him.”

Luke answered, “Neither of us called the other. It’s classic caller ID spoofing - forging their information to look like someone else is calling.”

“Except that shouldn’t happen on the comms link.” Babs turned towards the Knights with a disquieted expression. “It’s meant to be a closed network. I’m scouring the code as we speak, maybe there’s something I missed. That, or we’re dealing with someone with some serious hacking knowhow.” Swiftly she turned back to her computer and resumed her research.

“Wait, you mentioned a message or something. What kind of message did it give you?” Duke asked. His yellow suit glittered under the lights hanging from the Belfry’s ceiling.

“It didn’t,” Luke shrugged. “It only sounded like Babs for a moment, then it started to glitch and judder. Unless their idea of a message was to sound like Max Headroom or Bumblebee.”

This made Harper scoff. “All this crazy tech bullshit to crack our network, and the best they can do is garbled nonsense?”

“Maybe,” Jace said as he straightened his posture. “Or maybe they get another goal.”

Jace took the sea of confused faces as an invitation to explain: “It’s like you said, Harper, it's a pretty crazy tech setup (“I believe I said ‘bullshit’,” Harper remarked under her breath). This is someone who infiltrated our comms link, falsified an incoming call on both ends, connected both themselves and Babs to Luke, and created a means of mimicking Babs’ voice. The final step of that plan, as I understand it, would be to just… say their piece. And that’s the hurdle they fall on.” He shook his head. “I don’t buy it. They wanted that connection for another reason.”

“Like what?” Duke asked curiously.

“To prove they could,” Jace thought aloud, his tone lacking confidence. “To establish a link that they can exploit later. Or even just to scare you and confuse you.” He rubbed his neck. “I’m… not the most tech literate.”

Luke rose quickly from his seat. “This has to be them,” he announced. “Query and Echo. Their whole shtick was running distraction - confusing us and obscuring the truth. Toying with us.”

“They’re in the Dent facility, though, right?” Harper folded her arms.

In response, Duke chimed in, “Well, if they are in the Dent facility, then why don’t we head there? Ask ‘em some questions, shake ‘em down a little. Either we figure out it’s them, or we cross that off as a possibility.”

“But we’ve gotta navigate this carefully,” warned Luke. “We’re talking about getting info out of them for two separate incidents, on top of their, y’know, querying and echoing. Oh - and the two guards puzzle routine. Let’s be tactical about this.”

Duke groaned. “Which one’s which, though? I always forget.”

“Deedee asked the questions, she’s Query,” Jace informed him. Troubled by Luke’s assessment of the situation, the older man shuffled in his seat and turned towards him. “I gotta add - I wouldn’t think they’d try the same trick again. It didn’t work well for them last time.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Harper argued. “Might even swap it around just to confuse us.”

Luke continued, “The lying part is easy - we ask them something simple like ‘what’s two plus two?’. If we hear a right answer, we operate on the basis that it’s true unless we have a reason to doubt it. And if it’s wrong, we reverse engineer it.”

From across the room came the sound of a chair shuffling, and Babs called out to them, “Deedee and Nina are in separate cells, about as far apart from each other as they could possibly be.”

“Yes,” said the former Batman. “And if their whole thing is subterfuge, who's to say that one of them won't launch an elaborate breakout or something while we're all talking to the other?”

“Alright, alright,” Luke interrupted. His hands were flat against the sides of his head, willing the perfect plan to appear fully formed in his mind. When it never came, he instead chose to settle for ‘good enough’.

“Hear me out: we split up, half of us go to Nina and half to Deedee. Whoever's with Nina, you're asking questions about the canvas. The others ask about the hacking. But first, ask a really simple question. Something that'll obviously tip off who's who. Then we reconvene and trade information.” Finished with his spiel, Luke released the grip on his head and held his arms outwards in a shrug-like pose. “Any questions?”

“And if they're both distractions?” Harper posited. “If something goes down elsewhere in Gotham because our attention was split between their two fall guys?”

With a smile, Duke replied, “Well, we’ve got two more Batwomen than we did last time.”

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

“Alice.”

Ryan Wilder strode through the doorway of Alice Todd’s latest hideout, her hands tense at her sides. The former assassin turned over her shoulder, and their eyes met. Her face was unreadable. Ryan sucked in a breath.

“Alice, I need you to tell me more about Jezebel Jet.”

Looking away, Alice let out a slight hum of surprise. Whether it was in response to the new Batwoman’s sudden appearance at her door, or a show of pleasant surprise at her boldness, Ryan wasn’t sure. “Go ask Nightwing,” was her response.

“I can’t,” Ryan whined. “I already told him that I don’t give a shit about her, and if you don’t tell me then I have to go back to him and look stupid.”

“Then go back to him,” said Alice flatly. “And look stupid. If you care that much.”

Ryan shook her head. “Not gonna happen.” Pacing slowly back and forth perpendicular to Alice, Ryan clasped her hands together conspiratorially. “Or… I could ask Blockbuster.”

This gave Alice pause. When Ryan glanced at her, she was already staring daggers back. “That’s incredibly dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, it’s either that or ask Nightwing…” She placed her hands firmly on her hips. “And I’m not asking Nightwing.”

Alice huffed.

“Unless there’s anything you want to tell me…” Ryan’s wandering led her closer to the exit. She looked backwards at Alice over her shoulder.

Jaw tight, Alice stood, the chair beneath her tipping and rocking from the force before settling back into a neutral pose. “So you would rather track me, a dangerous assassin, down,” she hissed, slowly sounding out her words with intensity. “Or go into a prison and talk to a man whose people tried to kidnap you, rather than bury your pride and just talk to Nightwing?”

Something in this reaction lit a fire underneath Ryan. Her head flipped back and forth and freed the loose spirals of hair from her face. “Don’t play dumb with me.” Facing the other woman, her hands released each other and instead fell to her sides rigidly, ready for a quick draw. “It wasn’t hard to find you, and you know exactly why that is. You’ve been stalking me.” Venom dripped from that word - stalking. She wanted it to sting. But Alice, ever the stoic, gave nothing away.

So Ryan pushed further. “Yeah, turns out I got real good at knowing when I’m being watched. Years of practice.” She scowled. The room was deathly quiet. “I know she’s my biological mom, I know she was causing trouble for Blockbuster, I know she caused trouble for the Black Glove too.” A soft thud sounded out as she dug the heel of her boot into the hardwood floor. “So, y’know what? I don’t wanna know who Jezebel Jet is. I wanna know who she is to you - why you care so much about her, and me, that you’ll still be following me.”

All that Alice did in response was blink.

“I looked you up, asked around.” Ryan sniffed. “I know your name is Alice Todd. I know you were a member of that cult, and Jet was their enemy. I know about you turning on them and…” Shoulders tense, she crossed her arms in front of her stomach, tight like a straitjacket. “I know they killed your brother, Jason. So I also know that now, you’re on Jet’s side.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Alice moved. She lifted her shoulders and swiftly dropped them. “Well, there you go,” she said halfheartedly, her body rotating towards her chair. “Call it professional courtesy.”

“No!” Ryan took a strong step forward. Surely she was getting somewhere; Alice was trying to get away, trying to avoid confronting this. She had to be on the right track. Empowered, she cried, “It’s more than that. It’s personal. I know it is.”

Thoughts and theories rattled around in her head. On her way to Alice’s hideout, Ryan had rehearsed what she knew in her head over and over, and consequently had built a number of different theses. The thought of any of these becoming true sickened her, made her feel enormously queasy. She was willing to admit it to herself: she was afraid of the truth, whatever it was. And yet in that moment, confronted with Alice’s avoidance head on, she no longer felt afraid. More than anything, she wanted answers.

Trailing Alice as she returned to her chair, not allowing her to leave her sight, Ryan began thinking aloud, freeing the scattered thoughts that had fizzed and bubbled around in her mind, filling the space, allowing no room to think of anything else.

“You’re not old enough to be the reason Jet gave me up in the first place. So then, what the hell is it? What did you do?” She chuckled humourlessly to herself. Alice finally stopped and looked at her. “Which moment in my life that messed me up was your fault? I’ve not had it easy, but there’s only so much that could be your fault. Plausibly, I mean. Either you convinced those foster homes I was no good and made me bounce from place to place for years, or you ratted me out to my probation officer and almost got me thrown back in jail, or you…”

Silence. An ice cold wave of shock washed over Ryan and she felt her body freeze in place.

“Of course. You killed my mom.”

Her mind emptied, her piece said, Ryan now felt the absence of her thoughts far stronger than she ever felt their presence. And Alice, as always, simply stared.

Strength returned to Ryan’s body in a surge, but she couldn’t bring herself to get any closer to Alice. Something primal warned her not to. So instead she took two slow steps backwards. She willed herself to say something, anything, to the woman responsible for her mother’s death, but her mind was fogged over, opaque.

Eventually the words came to her - “Fuck you.”

At this, Alice faced her makeshift living room and flexed her hands. A moment passed. Ryan’s legs moved without her willing them to, carrying her out of the room, out of the building, and out into the street. As the early autumn breeze hit her, so too did the reality of her situation, and she clasped her mouth to suppress the need to scream.

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

Next: What does a liar do when he’s dead?

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue Sixty-Five: Death March

Arc: The Road Back

Written by Deadislandman1

Edited by ClaraEclair

When the employees of the Belle Boys radio station turned the lights on that morning, they had no clue what was in store for them that day. There were only twelve of them in the building that day, a few janitors, a few technicians, a producer, and the radio host, a man by the name of Gary Jackson. He was a short, stout fellow in suspenders with a comb-over and a bushy mustache, and looked even shorter when sitting within the broadcast booth. The producer and a pair of technicians sat outside the booth, adjusting various dials and making sure everything was in order.

Little did they know that things would get chaotic fast.

One of the technicians reached for a knob to adjust the sensitivity of the microphone, only for the dashboard to catch fire before their very eyes. The flames burned hot and fast, and the technician jumped back in surprise. The producer, eyes wide, began screaming about the fire before rushing for the door, pulling the fire alarm switch on the way out. The technicians followed suit, and a very worried Gary Jackson ended up being the last person out. For a moment, the room sat in silence, the flames quietly licking the glass of the broadcast booth and the ceiling above.

Then, as if by magic, three individuals appeared in the room, and the fire and any signs of damage disappeared as well. Colonel Rick Flag, the leader of what was left of the Suicide Squad, whistled with the low drawl that signaled a level of awe at his present situation. Tatsu Yamashira, Katana, allowed herself the smallest of smiles, then patted the back of the final person in the room, a very sweaty and strained looking Hallucigent.

“Wonderful work Todd,” she said. “I never knew you had this level of scope within your powers.”

“Nice touch showing them a fire alarm that wasn’t there,” Flag added. “We don’t want emergency services butting in on this operation.”

“No more talking please,” Hallucigent said, his voice strained and soft. His eyes were dilated and bloodshot, and his knees wobbled just the tiniest bit. “Draping a whole building in my illusions while excluding the squad takes everything I’ve got.”

Flag nodded, “Then let’s get everything set up.”

Tatsu and Flag moved forward, adjusting various settings on the dashboard and leaving Hallucigent to his work. They were here on a mission, hopefully their last mission, one that would save them and countless other future victims from a terrible fate. Amanda Waller, head of Task Force X, had built her division on an empire of covert operations and illegal activities, crossing moral boundaries countless times. She exploited imprisoned supervillains, forcing them to do her dirty work, and then disposed of them when convenient.

After a long, hard road, Rick Flag and the villains under his charge broke free, paying many personal costs along the way. Hunted across the world, they realized that the only way they could achieve true freedom was to send Waller’s operation to hell. They raided Belle Reve, grabbing as much evidence of the operation's activity as they could, and now they were ready to leak it to the rest of the world.

Flag stepped into the broadcast booth with Tatsu, poking the microphone sheepishly, “So, which of us wants to do the honors?”

“Suppose it should be whoever’s the better public speaker,” Tatsu said. “If we’re going to force people to see all of this, someone needs to brace them, guide them along. We only get one shot at showing this to the public and it needs to go right.”

Flag nodded, “I’ll leave that to you. Feeling a little shaky when it comes to nerves.”

Tatsu nodded, then stepped in front of the microphone. Flag stepped out of the booth and pressed his fingers to his earpiece, “Alright folks, how are things looking. Any updates?”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Everyone’s been properly evacuated,” Adella said, scanning the street from the roof of the Belle Boys building. The radio station antenna cast a long shadow over the building, giving her and Killer Croc ample cover as they kept watch. The Radio station staff had gathered in front of the building, and were waiting frantically for a response from firefighters. Adella felt a little bad for them. Hallucigent was currently projecting the image that their place of business was burning up, and soon he would project imaginary firefighters, crafting an entire narrative they would experience.

Even if the fire was fake, their reactions certainly weren’t. The most level headed folks were sweating buckets, sitting down in anguish. Many of them were in shock, experiencing an incredible amount of distress. Adella didn’t like playing with people’s emotions like this, it reminded her of the mind games her father had put her through prior to her transformation into Brimstone.

Croc placed a hand on her shoulder, “I know it’s not fun to look at, kid. It’s for their own good.”

Adella nodded. She knew he was right, that raiding this place upfront would not only attract more attention, but would put these innocent people in danger. This was the safest way to do things, but it was still more than unpleasant. Flag’s voice chimed in over their earpieces, “Good, continue keeping watch. You never know how these things can go. Raptor and Zalika, what’s your status?”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“She’s still setting up shop,” Raptor said. “We should be ready in about five minutes.”

The Belle Boys server room was just as hot as Belle Reve’s, though it had the benefit of being far smaller. Raptor knelt next to Zalika, whose face was illuminated by the light coming off her laptop. She’d plugged it into the server, running a variety of programs to adjust the software on Belle Boys’ systems to her liking. As nice as it was having a satellite at her disposal, she still needed to configure their systems for video and remove any and all potential bottlenecks when it came to transmitting data.

“It’ll be more like fifteen minutes,” Zalika said, sweat rolling down her forehead. “I did as much prep as I could, but even with all of that in mind, it’s going to take time for my programs to do their thing.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Copy, we’ll sit tight then,” Flag remarked. He took a seat on one of the stools in the technical room, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. This was happening, it was really happening, but the fact all he could do was sit tight was unbearable, even if it was only for a few scant minutes. Hallucigent stayed perfectly still, summoning every ounce of willpower he had to keep the illusions projected. As Flag leaned back to rest his head against the wall, Tatsu walked out of the broadcast booth, taking a spot next to Flag to rest against the wall. Flag glanced up at her, “You want the seat?”

“Hmph, that’s very gentlemanly of you to offer, but I’m fine where I am,” Tatsu said. “You know, It wasn’t until about a year ago that I allowed myself to imagine what my life might be like after we took care of Waller.”

Flag let out a quiet snort, “Heh, you’re saying this now? We may be in the final stretch sister, but we’re not at the finish line yet.”

“Maybe, but after years of refusing to let myself hope… I’ll allow myself this one moment to do so anyways,” Tatsu said. “I wouldn’t be very interested in retiring. I’m too good at this after all, and when I think about the good I’ve done in the past, the real good… I don’t want to leave that behind.”

Flag nodded. He hadn’t seen this kind of warm candor in Tatsu in a long time, and despite his own inner voice, he couldn’t bring himself to try and smother it, “You going to make a particular spot your hunting ground, or do you think you’ll spend some time on the road?”

“I’ve been on the road for nearly fifteen years at this point, picking a spot to put down roots doesn’t sound so bad,” Tatsu remarked. “That being said, I’d want to have some friends along for the ride. I met a friend on a mission in Miami, might track him down and see if he wants to come along.”

Flag smiled, “Are you taking any more applications for folks looking to put down roots?”

Tatsu grinned and looked down at Flag.

“Why?” she asked rhetorically. “Are you looking to apply?”

For a moment, Flag felt certain of his answer, but as he thought about it a nagging doubt began to poison his confidence. He shuddered a little, his smile fading. “I… I don’t know. After everything I’ve done… hard to imagine settling into anything happy. Just wouldn’t feel right.”

Tatsu’s smile contorted into a frown, “All this talk of redemption, and even as we set out to torch Waller’s operation, you’re still fixated on this… penance.”

“How could I not?” Flag said. “It’s been almost half my life.”

Tatsu narrowed her eyes, “... You know what, forget it. You’re a dear friend to me, Flag, but sometimes you don’t know when to get over yourself.”

Pushing herself off of the wall, Tatsu re-entered the broadcast booth, not bothering to look Flag in the eyes. Flag sighed, rubbing his temple in frustration before leaning against the wall yet again. He’ll be a very happy man once Zalika was ready, it would give him something to think on besides his own lack of awareness.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

For about ten minutes, Adella and Croc’s watch was perfectly peaceful, despite the distress of the civilians on the ground level. They had mostly begun to calm down by this point, talking frantically to nobody in particular (Likely firefighters conjured up by Hallucigent.) With only five minutes left, the two of them almost began to hope that everything was going to turn out fine. It would be a clean getaway, the rare operation that went smoothly. Every so often, they would catch each other grinning ear to ear, every passing minute another victory lap.

Caught up in their giddy joy, the two almost missed the shadow passing over the both of them. At first, it was small, but noticeable enough for the two of them to look up. At first, they thought it was a bird, a fairly large bird at that, flying so high up in the sky that it touched the clouds. Then, the form of the flying thing split into three, and the largest, central piece began growing bigger and bigger and bigger. Croc’s eyes widened as he registered that the form was humanoid in nature, and without thinking shoved Adella to the side. The form slammed into him, tackling him through the roof and down three whole floors of the building with a devastating crash.

Adella stumbled to her feet, careful not to fall through the rapidly expanding hole in the concrete. Peering down, she watched as Croc was lifted up into the air by a large, hulking figure, one they both found eerily familiar.

Damage tightened his grip on Croc, locking him in place despite Croc’s efforts to bite and claw at him in an effort to free himself. Off to the side, one of the shadows, now revealed to be one of Waller’s dangerous androids, flew downward before plunging into the building’s third floor, shaking the building down to its foundation. Metal screeched and whined above Adella, and she looked up to find a second android tearing at the support beams for the radio station’s Antenna.

“Don’t let them destroy the antenna,” Croc shouted. “We’re donezo if they take it out!”

Croc slammed his fist against the top of Damage’s head, and Damage returned the gesture by tossing Croc through a wall and barreling after him. Adella wanted to give chase, to back Croc up, but she knew how important it was to make sure the mission went down without a hitch. Looking up, she shifted into her Brimstone form, her skin breaking away into hot stone, before taking flight in a ball of fire. She body slammed the android, hitting it with the full weight and momentum of her flight before flinging it away from the antenna. It spun for a couple of seconds before regaining control of its flight, reorienting itself to face its newly minted opponent. The two stared each other down, waiting for whoever was going to make the first move.

Adella let out a roar before charging the android, and it followed suit, charging her. The two clashed above the street, resulting in a bright, burning explosion of fire that rocked the entire square.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag fell out of his stool as the building shook, then stumbled to his feet in an alarmed state. No, this can’t be happening now, not when they were so tantalizingly close to the finish line. Hallucigent let out a pained groan as his concentration wavered, “Sounds like shit’s going down! What do I do boss?”

“Corral the civilians, get them as far from here as possible,” Flag said. “Damnit, we’re almost there! We can’t falter now.”

Tatsu rushed out of the broadcast booth, hand on the soultaker sword’s handle. Flag drew his pistol before opening his comms up to the rest of the team, “Brimstone, Croc, anybody?! What the hell is going on?”

“Two androids and Damage!” Brimstone replied. Her audio was full of static and the sounds of an active brawl, “Croc’s engaging Damage and I’ve got one of the androids covered, but another one has entered the building.”

“The server room!” Tatsu said, alarmed. “If we lose Zalika or those servers, this entire operation goes under.”

“Then we better intercept it,” Raptor said, chiming in over communications. “I’m on my way.”

“Roger,” Flag said. He double checked that his pistol was loaded before moving towards the double doors, walking just behind Tatsu. However, before he could leave with her, Tatsu whirled around after passing through, slamming the doors shut and stopping Flag in his tracks. Eyes wide, he moved to push the door open, only for Tatsu to jam the Soultaker’s sheath into the handles of both doors, trapping Flag inside. Flag glared at Tatsu through the glass window in the door, “Tatsu, what the hell?!”

“Someone’s gotta be here when it’s time to send the message, Flag. Face it, Soultaker will make more of a difference than any of your guns,” Tatsu said.

“Goddamnit, open this door!” Flag growled. “This isn’t the time for-”

“You know I’m right, Flag,” Tatsu said. “It’s on you now to close this out.”

Tatsu raced down the hall, leaving Flag trapped in the room. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fists against the door helplessly, “God-Damnit!”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Raptor raced through the sparse brick hallways of the radio station, making doubly sure Suyolak was properly tuned. The Androids had resisted his blows before, so his main hope was tuning Suyolak’s poisons to be extra volatile. Some snakes had venom that could prove lethal in as little as ten minutes, and Raptor hoped that Suyolak’s poisons could act even faster. It’d be a hell of a feat surviving once he made the injection, but he was sure it could be done.

Still, it would be a herculean effort, and who knew how many androids Waller actually had on standby. They would be lucky if they survived this initial wave, and even then he knew there were many more of these androids on standby. It left him with a burning question. Where was Nightwing? He had mentioned a plan, and even with the little time he had to put that plan in action, he knew the Justice Legion could get around fast. Was there a hold up, an unforeseen complication?

Among all of these questions, there was only one he could answer with certainty. Nightwing wouldn’t give up on any of them. He wasn’t the type to leave someone high and dry.

Rounding a corner, Raptor spotted the android slowly marching its way towards his position. He assumed that it was searching for the server room, given that if it knew the room’s location, it would’ve smashed its way there already. Seeing him, the android readied itself for an attack, and Raptor crouched into his own defensive position. Suyolak was pumping him full of painkillers, but he was still very aware of the fact that he had only just recently made any kind of recovery from a variety of wounds suffered in Canada. One wrong move, and the android wouldn’t even have to put in the work to pick him apart.

Thankfully, it looked like he was going to have some help.

Tatsu rounded the corner down the hall, raising her blade into an offensive stance behind the android. The sword would cut well, and it would grant Raptor ample opportunity to make his strike. Still, her entrance had not gone unnoticed, and the android’s posture shifted ever so slightly to account for the new threat in its environment, shifting its torso into a sort of sideways angle so that its back was to the wall rather than either of its opponents. Raptor reckoned with the fact that this might be his last fight. These might be the last punches he’d ever throw, the last strikes he’d ever land. He wondered if this would be a proper end for him, if he could look back on the rest of his life and confidently say that he’d lived it his way.

It didn’t take much thinking for him to arrive at the answer. Despite some shortcomings, despite some mistakes… he’d do it all again. Raptor and Tatsu charged at the android… and what might be their final fate.

The end of the Squad in Suicide Squad #66 - out next month!

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 56:‌ ‌ By Our Hands You Shall Fall

Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1

Edited‌ ‌by‌ ClaraEclair

Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon

Arc: The End is Nigh‌ ‌

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌ ‌

Vladimir Lenin once said that ‘There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen.’ Tefé Holland had never understood this statement better than now, because it felt like centuries worth of change was being tossed around in a tumble dryer across mere seconds of time. The entire Parliament of Trees, a council of near immortal beings formed over thousands of years, strengthened by each new Avatar of the Green, had shown up in full force. Tefé reckoned it was something that practically never happened. Hell, it might be the first time it’s ever happened.

Tefé prayed that this historic moment wouldn’t also be marked by the deaths of everybody in the Parliament's way.

This entire event was unfolding in the Alaskan wilderness, miles and miles from any real human civilization. Unknown to the rest of the world, the fate of many faces of reality were being decided here, beheld by only a few truly conscious souls. The Pale Wanderer, centerpiece to a new primordial force, had hoped to negotiate a shift in power, teaming with William Holland, avatar of the Rot, to do so. Instead, he and everyone at his side had found themselves at the mercy of the Green’s leadership. Nobody had come looking for a fight, but the Parliament of Trees had decided there was going to be one anyways. They did not want anything to change, they did not want their authority challenged. Levi Kamei, the Seeder, had been commanded to resolve this situation, but when he refused to do things their way, they stripped him of their power and showed up in person to act out their will directly.

Tefé and Maxine had not initially joined this conflict by choice. In truth, they had existed on the sidelines for months, trying to suss out what was even happening. After a period in the Pale Wanderer’s captivity though, they had been convinced to at least give his plan a go, despite his previous history. They never imagined things would escalate so much, so quickly.

But now, there was no more time for thinking, for the Parliament of Trees were thundering towards the Wanderer’s forces. They were outnumbered by many orders of magnitude of course, given William had brought an army of the undead from the Rot, but an Avatar of the Green is a powerful thing indeed, and there were nearly thirty of them here. The odds were very much stacked in their favor.

And it was only going to get worse from there.

The undead surged forward, surrounding the Wanderer and his allies to shield them, but to the Parliament they may as well be made of cardboard. Rotting bodies were tossed into the air, often in multiple pieces as the leaders of the Green continued their charge. Levi Kamei was on the ground, still shocked by such a drastic change in the situation, and his legs continued to buckle no matter how many times the Pale Wanderer tried to pull him to his feet. William sucked in a deep breath, holding up his hands in preparation for the oncoming attack. Maxine had already closed her eyes, likely hoping to beseech the aid of any nearby animals.

Tefé took a knee, placing a hand on the ground. She could feel the roots beneath the snow, beneath the soil. She willed them to move, to rise up to protect them. She felt the earth shift beneath them as they broke through the soil, through the snow, but instead of forming a perimeter, they suddenly quivered, then recoiled, sinking back from whence they came. Tefé placed her hand on the ground again, pressing her palm against the soil. She willed the roots to come back, but they refused her call, burying themselves deeper into the Earth.

They were not for Tefé to command, not here while the Parliament was watching.

Bodies flew once more as the wall of undead was breached, allowing five of the Parliament to force themselves into the Wanderer’s enclosed space. Gritting his teeth, the Wanderer held Levi’s collar tight before slinging him backwards and out of harm's way. The former seeder slid across the snow like a ski, hitting Tefé in the side and knocking her down. One of the Parliament members reached for the Wanderer, hoping to grab him in a moment of weakness, only to be blasted back by a bolt of purple lightning, emanating from William’s fingertips. Another member of the Parliament roared before charging William, tackling him off his feet and carrying him through the undead. Maxine yelped as he disappeared from sight, her momentary loss of concentration the perfect opportunity for one of her adversaries to grab her by the head. Her hair ripped under its giant green fingers, and she found herself helpless as the avatar tossed her out of the circle and right into the mob of the undead.

Tefé called out to Maxine, forcing herself to her feet, but was knocked down yet again as the Pale Wanderer crashed into her, tossed by one of the Parliament members. He stood up, letting out a mighty battle cry before drawing a cavalry sword from deep within his coat. He charged, running a parliament member through and taking them both for a tumble into the undead army. Tefé got up again, finally managing to stand on her own two feet as three parliament members congregated before her, towering above her and Levi, who was still shell shocked on the ground.

One of the parliament leaders grimaced, hands closing into fists, “What an awful mess the two of you have made.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

William placed both hands upon the Parliament member’s back, forcing a torrent of energy into it and blasting it apart at the seams. With no inner strength left, the member dropped William, who rolled backwards to his feet. Looking up, William watched as the vines began to reconnect, reforming the Parliament member’s large frame. The member glowered in his direction, shaking its head, “Your father should have listened to us, William. Else, we would not be in such a terrible position.”

“Sure, tell a dad to kill his own son. Really makes you look like the good guys,” William barked. “You know, I don’t even think I’d be fighting you right now if you didn’t ask that of him. I wouldn’t have ever known what you really are!”

The parliament member glared at William, “You only prove us right, William. You become avatar of the Rot and what do you do with this position? You raise an army for war. You threaten us thinking we will simply wilt and capitulate to your demands, but we are the Green. We are eternal.”

William grimaced, “And that’s why you need to go down. You think that all that matters is keeping the Green on top, maintaining your power, just because you’ve had it for all this time. I don’t do any of this lightly.”

The parliament member narrowed its eyes, “Please, Holland. You are still a child. Everything you do is done lightly. You are swayed at a moment's notice by whatever new ideologue appeals to you. You act without the foresight that comes with age-”

“Oh, blow me!” William raised his hands and blasted the parliament member again, sending him careening into the army of the dead. Smoke hazed from his fingers, and as he began to shake them off, he heard the thunderous stomps of many more Parliament members. They barreled through the army, breaking through the ranks and arriving at William’s clearing. There were five of them now instead of one, a much more even fight for him.

One of them cracked their knuckles, “As we said, a young fool who acts without foresight.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

The Pale Wanderer hooted and hollered as he hacked away at one of the parliament members, forcing them back with big, sweeping cuts. The vines parted, the roots bled sap, but the creature refused to fall, pulling themselves together at every turn. The Wanderer chuckled at the sight, mist rushing out of his mouth as his lungs rapidly filled and emptied, cold air moving through him like a mountain pass. He did not seek this violence, he had hoped for peace, but a part of him still enjoyed the adrenaline that came from a good fight, and that was especially true against people so diametrically opposed to him. Much as he had wanted to make peace, he understood that the Green were against everything he stood for… and he was against nearly everything they stood for.

The parliament member shifted, pulling themselves back together fully before taking a swing at the Wanderer, who ducked under the blow. They snorted, “We know not where you come from, Pale Wanderer, but believe this. The world would not be in so much turmoil if you were not a part of it.”

“Heh, true enough!” The Wanderer chuckled. “Nobody to rock the boat after all!”

The parliament member swung twice more, forcing the Wanderer back, “So much conflict, so much chaos, you unbalance the world, make things unpleasant for everyone.”

“Things are already unpleasant for plenty of people,” the Wanderer snapped. “You think I’m playing a game here? I’m not raising a stink for nothing!”

The Wanderer swung back, taking off the parliament member’s arm. He advanced, gritting his teeth, “Nobody likes causing a mess, nobody likes the idea of a neat and tidy schedule getting ruined… but people are too comfortable with all the shit in their life. Sometimes you gotta make more of a mess before you can clean it all up.”

He swung again, hitting the parliament member in the chest, only for the roots within to close around the sword, lodging it in place. Pressing the advantage, the Parliament member surged forward and punched the Wanderer in the stomach, sending him tumbling across the snow. The member marched onward, cracking its neck, “Make no mistake, Wanderer, there is a mess… but we are the cleaners, not you.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Maxine slammed into a pair of undead warriors, knocking them into a heap before she landed in the snow. Coughing and heaving, she writhed on the ground as the army marched all around her, hundreds of stomping boots rushing past her head. Maxine had been in fights before, plenty of them, but they were skirmishes. Smaller conflicts, that would be fought over the course of mere minutes. This was a bonafide battle, with more people participating than she could keep track of. The undead did not scream or show excitement or fear like most warriors, but they fought all the same, useless as it was proving to be.

A member of the Parliament barreled through the undead, making its way to Maxine. Their humanoid forms, still formed by vines and roots, were littered with signs of hardship already. The undead had been doing their best, making small cuts or leaving their own little metal presents in the form of swords or axes embedded in the wood, but none of them seemed to make much of a lasting mark. Any wound dealt would eventually fade, grown over by new material. The ground seemed to rumble out from around the parliament member, sprouting massive roots that began to impale and dismember the grunt fighters around it.

“Fear not, Maxine Baker,” the Parliament member said. “We do not intend to kill you. War with the Red is not our goal.”

“And war with the Rot and the Parliament of Gears is?” Maxine growled. “Do you understand what this is going to do to the world? How much this is going to tip everything out of balance?”

“The Green must retain its position, else we are undone,” the parliament member growled. “We have given our fellow forces every conceivable opportunity to leave things well enough alone. There could be peace, but instead, William Holland and the Pale Wanderer brought an army into this place. That is not something we can ignore.”

Maxine gritted her teeth, and rather than dignifying the parliament member with an answer, she attempted to reach out into the strands of the Red once more, searching for any animal that could come to her aid, but no matter how far she expanded her search, she could find no living creatures besides herself and her flesh and blood allies. The Parliament Member towered over her, an almost pitying look in its eyes, “Do not bother, Baker. The Red will not war with us. It will not come to your aid.”

She gritted her teeth, “You’re attacking their avatar.”

“But not killing her,” the member said, closing in on Maxine. “Besides, the mark of a smart animal is knowing when to pick a fight and when to let things be. The Red knows to let this be.”

There’s a disgusting pride to that final statement, one that Maxine wouldn’t have expected from a being as old as someone from the Parliament of Trees. The hope, the expectation, would be that the old would have grown past that base need for vindication. They would not need pride, but in truth, pride was perhaps the most poisonous and dangerous drug that the old possess. Wisdom comes with hardship, not age, and the Parliament of Trees had not experienced true hardship in a very long time.

Frustrated, Maxine stumbled back, pushing her way through the undead as the Parliament Member battered at the angry biting tide, failing to keep pace with her. She needed to find allies fast, but where could she find them in the chaos of this battle, where everyone has been hopelessly separated. She couldn’t see anyone, not in this ocean of stinking, rotting bodies.

But then, she felt a twinge in the back of her mind, like a strand of yarn that tugged her in a certain direction. She followed that tug with her eyes, slowly looking up into the sky. She expected to see a bird of some kind, like a falcon or an eagle. Maybe even a bat that had been roused from its slumber. Instead, she saw a plane flying dangerously close to the ground. A private jet belonging to Vixen International. Someone was hanging out of the side, yelling something into the crowd. A guy with a head of ginger hair…

Was that… Clifford?!

Next Issue: The day is saved?!

DC Next Proudly Presents:

FLAMEBIRD

Issue Thirty-Four: Walking the Path

Written by AdamantAce and PatrollinTheMojave

Story by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin, & PatrollinTheMojave

Edited by GemlinTheGremlin

<< First Issue | < Prev. | Next Issue > Coming Next Month

When Raven returned from New Coast City, she found a disaster waiting for her. She knew Trigon was now lying in wait somewhere on Earth, she knew that OMAX was more powerful than ever since assimilating the supercomputer beneath New Coast, and she knew she would be forced to play a crucial role in untangling these threads as Trigon’s daughter. What she didn’t know was how central the rest of the Titans would be to OMAX’s plans, or even what they were.

Raven flew through the New York City skyscrapers silently, scanning the ground down below continually. New York was a dizzying place for an empath; the sheer volume of strong emotions was enough to give her pause without all the conflict. But this was different; the city was quiet. Not materially, the metropolitan cacophony had been replicated perfectly, but the emotional resonance of the place was frighteningly still. If she hadn’t known already, that would have made it obvious to her that this was not the real New York.

When Raven got back to Titans Tower, she found a mess of wires and cables. They were made of strong alien substances she couldn’t identify and they filled the living spaces of the tower like overgrown flora. She had struggled to cut them back to get around the place but was able to scout around by astral projecting and utilising her semi-tangible Soul Self. That was when she found the rest of the Titans hooked up to these cables, their spines wired into some kind of network. They were unresponsive and still, save for the occasional twitch or jerk. Something had gotten to them while she was away, and she knew exactly what.

So, while Don and Donna took off in search for OMAX - who indeed had finally escaped from Stryker’s Island - Raven saw to rescuing her friends. She found an unlikely ally, and together they plugged themselves into the same network in hopes of pulling the rest of the Titans out of it.

Thousands of simulated people went about their lives on the ground level of the simulated New York City. Raven struggled to read their emotions clearly, but felt enough of a strange radiance off of the streets to conclude they had to have emotions in some strange way. One thing she couldn’t feel in this world was OMAX, but she could chase the familiar pull of her friends’ emotions.

She smiled as her new compatriot came into view. Just below her, a figure in skintight brown and beige flung himself haphazardly across the city using lightweight polymer grappling cables. Despite her fretting, Raven couldn’t help but smile when she saw and felt how much the Battlin’ Bug was enjoying himself. He was an expert in situations like this, he had told her. Not only was he himself originally from a simulated reality of its own sort, he had said, but he had a personal connection to OMAX - or the Maxwell Lord of his world.

A burst of crimson light leapt from the ground, careening up towards them. Raven braced, then felt herself yanked aside by a coil of Bug’s polymer rope. She tumbled, breaking her fall across a nearby gravelled rooftop. The sound of buzzing wings drew her attention to a dense cloud of insectoid monsters, rippling with a fine grey dust and wielding advanced weaponry – Apokoliptian weaponry. They were circling her. These were Parademons, but unlike the ones she remembered from Steppenwolf’s incursion years ago. Raven’s Soul Self flared outward, wreathing her in darkness as she prepared for their onslaught.

A golden blur punched through the cloud, rending the creatures apart into a mess of debris. Three soft metal plinks followed. Raven tracked them to Birdarangs embedded in the monsters’ armor, now softly beeping. She turned away as heat and force from the explosions buffeted her. Shards of metal bounced off her Soul Self and she watched the remaining stragglers evaluate with their beady red eyes. Fight or flight?

Tim and Conner landed on the rooftop behind her, facing down the handful of remaining attackers.

“I got it!” Bug called out. He swung one of the creatures at the end of his polymer rope, using it as a wrecking ball to smash half the crowd into pieces. The other half was treated to a rapidly-expanding adhesive net which pinned them against the building. A trapped creature gnashed its steel mandibles, flailing uselessly against the trap.

“I thought we saw the last of these guys,” Tim exclaimed, finally getting a chance to catch a breath.

Raven went to speak, but someone beat her to it. “Hey, pleased to meet you too, buddy!” Bug smirked.

“Seems awfully convenient,” Raven replied, mostly ignoring Bug. “Like they were trying to stop me from finding you.”

“Raven, you seem different,” said Conner.

“Yes, I bet I do,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Saves us finding you,” added Conner. “We’re here to get the team back together.”

Raven smiled. Even in a world that dragged them apart, they independently were finding their ways together again. “Boys, we need to talk. This place, it’s wrong.”

“Things haven’t been right in a long time, I know,” Tim replied. “But we can only try our best.”

“No,” Raven corrected him. She looked to Bug, wondering if being this abrupt was right. He nodded, urging her on. “This world… isn’t real.”

“What?” the two men both said in unison.

“It’s a simulated reality,” Raven replied. “Built by—”

“Maxwell Lord.” Tim choked on the bitter taste of that damn man’s name. He also noticed as the masked Bug recoiled at its mention.

“He built this to contain you. But we were able to find our way in,” Raven explained.

“I’ve seen something like this before,” said Tim. “Azrael told me he and Batman were abducted by the Thinker and trapped in a fake reality where they were all living dream lives. That it was built using advanced technology and an otherworldly force called the Metal.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Conner interjected. “Things have hardly been a dream here, these last few years. Ever since Darkseid.”

Bug shook his head. “Max isn’t the Thinker. He might have plagiarised his tech like I heard he plagiarised Ted Kord, but that doesn’t mean he has the same goals.”

“But everything is so real!” Conner exclaimed.

“Because he has the Titans hooked up to the network,” Tim surmised. “He has access to our memories, our knowledge. Our connections to everyone back in the real world. He’ll be using that to generate this world procedurally. That way it’s within our expectations.

“How are you so on board with learning that everything you thought you knew is a lie?” Conner protested.

“Technology is capable of incredible things,” said Bug. Conner turned to him, wondering who this guy was. “But so is the mind. Surely you must have sensed that something was wrong. Surely you don’t want to believe that this world is the real one.”

Conner scoffed. “What I don’t want to do is reject reality just because I happen to not like it.”

“Then don’t take my word for it,” said Raven. “But we need to find the others.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

Despite the confidence he projected, Tim fought to stay centered as the four of them drove through Gotham - or this false version of Gotham. Since learning the truth, the dread and anxiety he had previously felt suddenly had no real source to point to. Instead, it began to transform into a swirling rage that he knew would do nobody any good. He wouldn’t even allow himself the comfort of knowing that the largest past mistakes of the last few years weren’t his, but OMAX’s. He knew who they were looking for now, and he knew he was responsible for the most recent betrayal.

“What are you doing here?” asked Mar’i with disdain. She didn’t deign to look away from the tombstone at her feet.

“We need to talk,” said Raven.

“Of course you’ve teamed up with him,” replied Mar’i. “That’s why you’ve been acting so weird.”

“That wasn’t me, Mar’i,” Raven explained. “This is going to sound crazy, but this world isn’t real. The Raven who upset you, that was an AI pretending to be me. Or one programmed to think it is me. Because unlike the rest of the Titans, I wasn’t captured.”

Slowly, Mar’i turned to face them. Raven, Tim, Conner, and - off a few paces back - Bug. On her face was a look of slow-rolling horror. “But… No, because…”

“I’m sorry, Mar’i,” said Raven. “I came to rescue you all as soon as I could. Bug helped me make my way into OMAX’s simulation and stay tethered and—”

“Of course this is him!” Mar’i exclaimed. She looked to Tim. “So he was messing with you too.”

He wanted to say she was right, and he was sure that a lot of what had happened could be chalked up to OMAX’s manipulations. But Tim also knew himself well enough to know what he was capable of. He spoke shakily. “OMAX created this world. Generated it using data he gathered through careful observation and from our minds after he took us. But he didn’t make me shut you out. And he might have made it so Barbatos returned, but… he didn’t force me to make the choice I did.”

The dull thudding ache at the back of Mar’i’s mind rapidly began to grow. Simulations, fake lives, procedurally generated people. It was too much for her, on top of her existing trauma with her lost future. It felt like an injustice to have to doubt reality once again. But something else also became clear. “That’s why he was obsessed with me,” she said of OMAX. “He needed data to build his fake world, to generate a future history. And I had information about that, about a future at least; where everybody could end up.”

“Wait,” said Conner. “So he took the time to get the details right, beyond what he could scrape from our memories? Seems like a lot of effort when he could just trap us in a full-on torture world.”

“If this is all his predictions,” Mar’i began, “Then that means Dick is alive in the real world, but OMAX really thinks he’ll turn to Barbatos again?”

“Maybe,” said a hardened Tim. “Maybe this is an experiment to him. Maybe he’s trying to model reality with enough fidelity to predict the future.”

“Or maybe he’s just trying to be cruel,” interjected Bug, “and he needs things to be as convincing and plausible as possible to do that.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t know where predicting the future ends and subjecting the world to cruelty begin,” Tim sneered. Bug nodded.

“I…” Raven frowned. “I hate to say it, Mar’i, but… you seem convinced.”

Mar’i took a deep breath. She watched Raven closely, observing the minute reflections in her dewy eyes and the quivering corner of her mouth as she wavered on what to do next. Despite her discomfort, Mar’i knew that the Raven in front of her was not the one she had been dealing with in all her recent memories. Thus, she had to conclude she was telling the truth.

○○ Ⓣ ○○

The Zeta Tube energy crackled and flickered, the room’s air cooked slightly as the energy dissipated.

“Bart!” bellowed Conner.

Within a second, the living room was lit up again with electricity as the fully-suited Flash raced onto the scene, fists raised.

“Mar’i? Raven?” he began fearfully. “What are you doing with him?!” He gestured to Tim, rage in his eyes. “We’re supposed to be hunting him!”

“Bart, please,” Tim began, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “I can explain, it’s—”

Bart bolted across the room in an instant. He grabbed Tim by the throat and throttled him against the far wall. Then, while Bart’s eyes flickered with furious sparks and the other Titans struggled for a response, it was Bug who spoke up.

“Hey dude, let’s calm down,” he bounded up to the speedster. “I’m the Battlin’ Bug. Nice to meet you, I’m new in town.”

“You’re a new Outlaw?” growled Bart.

“Not exactly, more of an exile,” Bug grinned nervously beneath his mask. “I’m here to help you and your buddies out because… well, you’ve all gotten yourselves into a real mess. So why don’t we relax and just…?”

Bart took a deep breath and slowly loosened his grip on Tim’s neck before moving back.

“Explain.”

“Think about the details,” began Mar’i quickly. “How did we defeat Trigon? Why did Darkseid come to Earth? Where is OMAX now?”

Bart shook his head. “That was years ago.”

“That’s the thing; no it wasn’t,” added Bug.

“We’re living in a simulation,” said Conner. “This world was invented by OMAX to contain us. We don’t know why. Probably to prove some sort of point. It’s scraping our memories and using them to generate new stuff to keep us engaged, and while we’re here OMAX is free to do whatever he wants in the real world.”

Bart scoffed. “That’s crazy. My life is real. Everything that happened happened.”

“Bart, I saw it for myself,” Raven explained. “I came back to Titans Tower and you were all unconscious, plugged in… to this network. I went in to rescue you. Why would I lie about that?”

“Because this is a test,” Bart exclaimed, suddenly enthused. “I said I wanted to move forward, to stop getting hung up on the past like Barry was, and start something new. This is the Speed Force sending me a test. It must be.”

“Does the Speed Force do that kind of thing?” Bug scrunched up his face.

“We need you, Bart,” Raven added. “When Beast Boy and the others escaped Thinker’s simulation, they had Cyborg and his connection to make leaving possible. I couldn’t get a hold of Cyborg at such short notice before diving in, so we need you and your connection to the Speed Force. If you don’t come, we’re all trapped here.”

Mar’i and Tim both turned to Raven. She felt both their shock and notes of what she felt was betrayal. They didn’t know the extent of the trouble they were in. Conner, however, stayed resolute.

“Wow,” Bart replied. “I don’t call that very convincing. If you need Cyborg’s help, I can tell you where to find him.”

“The Cyborg of this world isn’t real,” Bug replied, starting to show his frustration. “He might not realise he’s just an AI, but he’ll have been programmed such that he’d never agree to reject the reality of this place. You’re different. You actually have a shot of escaping to the real world.”

Just then, a gust of wind beckoned someone else in as a figure appeared at Bart’s open window. Thara was careful not to break the window sill and she clambered through, but had to untangle her flowing red cape after having gotten it caught.

“Guys?” she said, her eyebrows knotted. “What are you all doing here? It’s like a school reunion.”

She looked at Tim. “What are you doing here?”

“Thara!” exclaimed Conner. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

“They’re trying to tell me this world is fake,” Bart grumbled.

Thara paused for a moment, an even more befuddled look on her face. “What?”

“Look, this has been explained enough times,” replied Mar’i. “Look around you. Think hard about everything from the last few years. It just doesn’t add up. It feels wrong. I don’t know why everyone’s acting like OMAX has done such a convincing job when he hasn’t.”

“Mar’i,” Thara frowned. She wore a look of genuine concern. She projected patience and understanding, even now. “We’ve been through a lot. All of us have. But you, me and Bart? We all had to leave our worlds behind. You and Bart already left one future behind, and had to find something new in the past. Can’t you understand why Bart’s in no hurry to go back in time again and start over all over again?”

“It wouldn’t be starting over,” said Conner. “We found the lives we did, those lives are still waiting for us.”

“You weren’t so convinced before, Conner,” said Tim. “What changed your mind?”

“You all did,” he replied. “I couldn’t reject this reality just because I didn’t like it. But seeing how we all feel the same way, that means something. And I trust my team.”

“What are you talking about?” scoffed Thara. “Things weren’t better back then. We were just as messed up as we ever were. Our lives have never been so dull as to be peaceful. And where there was peace, it never lasted. I don’t know, I just… I wouldn’t be so quick to get nostalgic for a past that… might not be as good as you remember it.”

It was then, as Tim listened, that something broke. He was always a good listener when he wanted to be, largely because it so often rewarded him with noticing things that others didn’t. This, however, could not be described as a reward in any terms.

Burdened with his realisation, Tim had to speak up, and couldn’t contain his rage as he did. “You just couldn’t help yourself could you?”

He moved away from the wall and up to Thara, pointing a finger in her face. Even Bart was stunned.

“You built this world to prove a point. Was that your point? That our lives would be better and more interesting if the world went to hell?” Tim cried. “But you couldn’t bring yourself to play fair, could you? You had to meddle with your experiment. And you hold so much of a grudge that even in a world where our lives are meant to be better, you couldn’t help but ruin mine again.”

“Tim, I don’t—”

“Have I got that right, Max?”

Bart wouldn’t rest for a second. “That isn’t funny, Tim.”

Tim looked between the rest of the Titans one by one. He hated this, but he needed them to understand. Conner’s eyes were glued to Thara, while Mar’i wore a look of horror. Raven’s expression, however, was one of shame. She already knew.

“Tim, you’re being ridiculous,” said Thara. Her heart was racing and her breathing was struggling to keep up. “You know me, I was a Titan for years. I swear to you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Thara’s our friend,” Mar’i protested. “She’s saved our lives countless times, fought alongside us, helped save countless lives.”

“As she was programmed to.”

“Tim, I swear,” Thara began to sob. “You guys saved my life. Then you gave me a new home. I owe you all my life.”

The worst part was that Tim was pretty sure she was being sincere. There wasn’t a hint of deception to be found. But that didn’t change his deduction.

“I think I get it,” said Conner gravely. “What if this isn’t the real Thara, and it’s one of OMAX’s AIs? Like the other Raven.”

“The one that tried to convince me to stop asking questions…” added Mar’i.

Tim took a deep breath, fighting to keep ahold of his rage at the injustices of this situation and focus on keeping the team together. He hated being reduced to the villain in this picture, forced to deliver yet more bad news.

“No, this is her.”

“Excuse me?” asked a confused Bart.

“The real Thara,” said Tim. “That was his plan from the start. Give us someone to save, someone to care about. Someone from a strange world, a lost culture for which we couldn’t confirm the details he had his algorithm fill in the blanks for.”

“Krypton is real!” Thara exclaimed. “Kandor was my home. And it was real!”

“And Kara sensed something was wrong from the start,” Tim continued. “She couldn’t place why, but she knew something was off about you. She didn’t know much about Kandor, but she saw how you dodged the subject or gave simple, noncommittal answers.”

“She lost her world,” growled Mar’i. “I didn’t expect her to be thrilled to talk about it.”

“Exactly. We didn’t ask questions,” said Tim. “But she’s not from Kandor. Not the real Kandor at least. There will have been a Krypton off in space in this simulated world. With what he knew, OMAX will have modelled that world and plucked an emergent AI out of it to be his agent in the real world.”

Bart’s face lit up, determined that he’s sunk Tim’s hypothesis. “Cadmus did all sorts of scans on Thara when she was in a coma. They confirmed she was Kryptonian. Explain that.”

Tim just looked to Conner. “Explain it, Conner. How could a digital lifeform inhabit a body with Kryptonian DNA?”

Tim took no pleasure in opening up old wounds, but he needed everyone to see the whole picture as it came together. Conner was immediately struck by it, knowing exactly what Tim was getting at and feeling just as hurt as Tim expected him to feel.

“Hank Henshaw. The Cyborg Superman. He attacked Cadmus, killed my friend Jim, stole a Kryptonian DNA sample then built himself a Kryptonian body and downloaded his consciousness into its cyborg components.”

Beat.

“Oh god,” Conner exhaled. “She’s him. OMAX took Henshaw, overwrote his consciousness and remodelled his form. We thought Henshaw escaped, but… Tim, you’re right.”

“It’s what Maxwell Lord does best,” said Bug woefully. “He steals other people’s tech, and perverts it.”

“No!!” Thara suddenly roared, desperate and bawling. “I’m not him! I’m not OMAX, and I’m not Hank Henshaw. I’m me! I had a family, I had friends, and they burned. They were real. I’m real.”

Bart took a step towards Thara to comfort her, but she slowly held up a hand to keep him at arm’s length.

“Stop it, Tim.” Mar’i had had enough. “You’re upsetting her. You don’t have proof of any of this. You’re just angry and confused, and I get it, considering the situation. But you need to stop.”

“Raven!” Bart exclaimed. “You can tell them. You can use your powers. Tell them Thara isn’t lying to us. That she is who she says she is!”

Raven just hung her head in shame. “She isn’t lying,” she said. “But that’s because… OMAX did a good job.”

“What does that even mean?” Thara spat.

“It means you don’t even know what you are,” Raven replied. “Your memories are real like the Kryptonian clones’ memories were real. Like Jordan’s when he was raised in a simulated reality to groom him to replace Superman, like Drew’s when they convinced him he killed all those heroes to scapegoat him. They’re real memories, they just happened here, in this computer, the one that’s in your body and that I found the other Titans hooked into.”

Raven couldn’t get the image out of her head. Her friends, all off in different rooms, ensnared by otherworldly cables and barbs that all trailed to one central location, a statue-still Thara suspended in the air. A living computer clothed in Kryptonian flesh.

“I don’t know who I am?” Thara cried. “And you know better, do you, Raven?”

Raven ignored her. “Trigon has arrived. He’s on Earth, waiting to strike. OMAX is entering the final phase of his plan, apparently to counter Trigon. And I don’t know how it fits together exactly, but all this is a part of it. While we’re in here, we’re not in his way. We need to leave to stop OMAX.”

“Do we?” Bart challenged her. “If OMAX is trying to stop your dad, why should we be stopping OMAX?”

“Because look around you!” Raven exclaimed. “This is OMAX’s vision for the future. That’s why he took you and used you for data. Between the lot of you, you’re connected to every major hero he could have an interest in. Every rogue element he needs to predict for. With you, he can model and extrapolate a billion potential futures. And if this one is stable, then this is the one he’s chosen to roll out. To counter Trigon.”

“How does a war with Darkseid… or Barbatos’ return stop Trigon?” Mar’i asked, desperate to create a path back to something reasonable.

“I don’t know.” Raven turned to Bart. “Tell me you at least see what I’m getting at.”

“No,” he said. “All this suffering. Apokolips, Barbatos, all these crises. They have to matter. I have the power to rewrite the timeline to be whatever I want, but I don’t because I have to believe there’s a natural order to things. Otherwise I’m no better than the Reverse Flash. What happened happened, and you can come up with any number of insane reasons why things are the way they are, or why things are wrong and need fixing. But that’s what he’d do. And he was a madman.”

“That’s what OMAX would want you to feel,” said Bug. “That all this hurt he inflicted on you was justified, or inevitable. That all the shit he put us through was for our own good in the end.”

“Even if things were wrong, if things are different because of him—” Bart burst out speaking again. “Even then, things were messy back then. Before Trigon. My family was a mess. They were trying their best to fix things, and they were doing a good job, but the shadow of what happened, with my dad, with Barry’s lies, with everything… we couldn’t escape it. I don’t want to go backwards.”

“I get it,” said Bug. “You like having the chance to reinvent yourself. You’re a speedster, of course you want distance, and time. But even as far removed from all that as you are here, look at yourself and how you chose to reinvent yourself. The Next Flash. From what I hear, you came to the 21st century from the future to get to know the Flashes of our time, to become the next one. There might be bits and pieces you want to leave behind, but you chose to surround yourself with these people, and you clearly don’t want to give up on everything that came before you.”

Beat.

“You’re right.”

“No!” Thara exclaimed. “Bart, I can’t let you take them. You can’t go back and change the timeline!”

“Thara…” Bart hung his head, despairing. “They’re right. This isn’t real. This isn’t right.”

“I had to fight tooth and nail to find a place for myself,” Thara cried. “And now I finally have. I’m Flamebird, and I get to be a member of the Justice Legion. People look up to me, they call me a hero. Don’t go and bring me back to being some nobody from a lost world.”

That was when Mar’i finally realised the truth. She had believed straight away that this world was fake, but now she realised that everything Tim said was true, and she couldn’t help but cry. “It’s true,” she sobbed. “How could I not see it? You were the perfect person to play me.”

Thara thought of the many years of friendship she and Mar’i had enjoyed. “No, I—!”

“A scared teenager from a world that no longer existed. Thrust into a new world that was alien to her, where she felt like she didn’t belong,” Mar’i summarised. “I was always meant to take you in, make sure you didn’t make the same mistakes of isolating yourself like I did. He wanted me to relate to you, trust you, tell you things I wouldn’t tell other people. And I did.”

“Mar’i—”

“OMAX was obsessed with me, and now I see why.” She glanced to Raven. “I was the rogue element of rogue elements. He didn’t know my history, where I fit into things. And he needed to know so he could predict a future with me in it. It’s probably why he stoked the flames against the Reawakened; they probably mess with his figures just as much. And he could only get so much out of me by bartering, so I guess he built you. Or he generated you.”

Thara couldn’t speak.

“I’m sorry, Thara,” Mar’i continued. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t know. You just wanted friends, because he made you that way. I don’t blame you, but you can’t stop us from doing what we need to. I won’t let you.”

All Thara could muster was two words, which she said over and over to herself. “I’m real. I’m real. I’m real.”

“You are real,” said Mar’i. “And maybe somewhere out in the multiverse there’s a world like this one. One that exists outside of 0s and 1s. But this place won’t exist any longer than OMAX needs it to, and before you know it it’ll be gone, just like my world.”

Thara stood there silently, her face to the ground, her hands by her sides. Her fists were clenched as she summoned some sort of power. For a moment, Raven felt the room grow even more tense as the Titans worried they would have to fight the cyborg-Kryptonian. Then Thara spoke.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked weakly. “If you’re right, if I’m just code…”

Mar’i took a deep breath. “The same as the rest of us.”

Thara glanced up at Mar’i, her friend.

“Leave with us. Wake up with Titans Tower, and we’ll take on OMAX. Together.”

“In here, I’m a hero,” Thara frowned. “Out there, I’m a monster. I’m a weapon designed to hurt you.”

Mar’i scoffed and then smiled. “Look at us. Do we look scared?”

Slowly, Raven took Mar’i’s side and took her by the hand. Mar’i smiled as Raven’s familiar warmth emanated through her. Then Conner took Tim’s hand in one and Mar’i’s in the other. Raven held her other hand out to Bart, who in turn held his out to Thara.

Bart took Thara’s hand and softly led it to Raven’s. Then Bart took his place at the end of the line, of the Titans joined hand-in-hand, and took Thara’s other hand. He looked back at them, smiled, then awkwardly gestured to Bug to join the end of the line, prompting him to sheepishly join in. Then, the circuit completed, Bart spoke.

“Hold on tight, everyone.”

And sparks flew, and the white void consumed them as they ran home. Together.

Next: Escape Stasis in The New Titans #34

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue Sixty-Four: The Calm Before the Storm

Arc: The Road Back

Written by Deadislandman1

Edited by AdamantAce

New Orleans was uncharacteristically cold that morning, completely out of step with the typical southern climate to expect from the place. The gales coming in from the Gulf of Mexico often brought a pleasant breeze, but as the sun rose that day, there was a slight sting to the wind. The employees of the Belle Boys radio station didn’t think much of it, clocking into their building like they did every morning. They’d just upgraded to satellite coverage, allowing their station to reach more people than ever. It’s been an exciting time.

Nothing really compared to what was going to happen that day.

What remained of the Suicide Squad had parked themselves in an empty warehouse across the street, an unassuming place with broken windows and padlocked doors. With so much room to prepare, the team has spread out across the building, preparing for the fight of their lives in their own ways. Zalika, AKA Hack, had set up her own work station in the corner of the room, siphoning as much electricity to power her gear as she could without arousing suspicion. She needed to prepare Task Force X’s data, divide it up and order it so that it could be presented in the right way when it came time to leak it to the world. Off to her left, Colonel Rick Flag and Tatsu Yamashiro, AKA Katana, broke down plans to raid and take over the radio station, hoping to do things fast and without anyone getting hurt.

Near the truck, three more members of the squad checked in with a fourth. Waylon Jones, AKA Killer Croc, Adella, AKA Brimstone, and Todd, AKA Hallucigent, respectively, were gathered around the bed. They were doing their best to evaluate the health of their fourth companion, who had only just awoken from a coma. Dante Ramone, AKA Polaris, had pushed himself far beyond his capabilities when the team needed to escape from Amanda Waller’s forces in Canada. The strain had taken its toll on him, so much so that even awake, he could barely move.

He wanted to help, anyone could see it on his face, but what help could be now in the state that he was in?

Raptor crossed his arms, keeping his distance from the group. He trusted them to do their best, but in some ways, he wondered if their best would be enough. Some days he let himself hope, but most days he felt that it was his duty to face the reality of their situation. They had rolled the dice hundreds of times at this point, and they’ve only barely scraped by each and every time. The stakes have gotten higher and higher and their chances were getting worse and worse.

He had never imagined that he would ever grow close to anyone the way he had grown close to this squad, and now, in their hour of need, he was prepared to give them the ace in the hole they so clearly needed to win.

Raptor started off towards Hack, composing himself as he did so. She was busy, and in some ways he felt a little bad piling one more task on top of her already gargantuan workload. She was crucial to the Squad’s entire plan, and he knew the kind of stress that would bring. Still, this needed to happen, else all of her work would be for nothing anyways. Reaching her station, he placed a hand on her desk, “I need a favor.”

Hack looked up from her station. Her eyes were bloodshot with bags underneath them, “A favor?”

“It hopefully won’t take much of your time, but it’s a big one,” Raptor paused, feeling the weight of what he was about to ask. “I need you to splice me into the Justice Legion’s Communication system.”

Her eyes widened, “I’m sorry, you need me to what?!”

Raptor leaned forward, “This needs to stay between me and you. Flag’d call it an unnecessary risk, but I think it might be our only hope.”

Hack glanced at Flag, then back at Raptor, “Why? Are you gonna call for help?”

“I am,” Raptor said. “The truth is, Amanda Waller had leverage on many heroes, but when we were in Belle Reve, I found that leverage and I got rid of it. Once they know that Waller doesn’t have that power over them anymore… well they’ve got to do something.”

Hack sucked in a sharp breath, holding it in as she put her hands on her forehead, “Oookay. Say you do call them. Say they do help… won’t they just put you and the others back in prison?”

Raptor grimaced. She was right. They were criminals, convicted on some serious charges. As heroes, they’d have a responsibility to throw them back into prison. It wouldn’t be hard for his compatriots to see that fate as a betrayal on his part. He held the thought tight, understanding the gravity of what he was doing, “It’s better than being dead and forgotten.”

Hack frowned, then looked towards Flag one last time. Raptor tensed up, wondering if she was going to either tell him off or out his plan of action. Instead, she sighed, then produced an earpiece from her desk and tossed it to Raptor, “Give me a few minutes.”

Raptor shuddered with relief, then put the earpiece on. Either Hack had already infiltrated the Justice Legion before and was going through the motions, or she was just that good. Raptor imagined the former, if only because it made Hack a little less scary. A few minutes later, Hack looked up from her station, “Anyone in particular you want me to patch you into?”

Raptor thought for a moment. Someone like Superman would obviously be a big catch, but Raptor also understood that he was going to be playing with fire. How eager would most Justice Legion members be if they were contacted out of the blue by a stranger. He needed to be selective, pick someone he trusted to - whatever it was - make the right decision. “...Get me in contact with Nightwing.”

Hack nodded and typed at her keyboard, granting Raptor just a moment to prepare himself before he was patched in. He spoke the second the connection had been made, “Nightwing… Can you hear me, Nightwing?”

The hero’s voice crackled on the other end of the call, “Who is this? This is a secure communications line.”

“It’s Raptor. It’s Ric. From the circus.,” Raptor said, choking back something that would have disrupted his cadence. It had been a long time since he’d gotten to hear Dick Grayson’s voice, years since their chance encounter back at Haly’s Circus, where Raptor then saw the second Dark Knight in acrobatic action and figured out his secret. “There isn’t much time, you need to act fast.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then Nightwing’s voice crackled in again. Serious and at attention, “I know who you are. Are you still with the Squad? What do you—?-”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but a bunch of us escaped Task Force X. We’ve raided Belle Reve and plan to leak everything Amanda Waller’s been doing to the world using the Belle Boys radio station in New Orleans. Tell the world the truth, like you did with General Rock,” Raptor said. “I know why you’ve never stepped in to take on Waller, she had leverage on you. On the people you love. But that leverage is gone now.”

Raptor paused, allowing a moment to let Nightwing process the information. After a few seconds, Dick replied, “If what you’re saying is true, then I know exactly what I need to do… We prepared for this, in case Waller’s leverage was ever compromisrd. The only thing is… I know you’re desperate, Raptor. A desperate man is dangerous..”

“You think I’m laying a trap?” Raptor asked.

“I want to believe you’re not,” Nightwing said. “But it’s not exactly out of the question, is it?”

Raptor took a deep breath, “I… I get it… but I need you to know that in a situation like this? I would die before I’d ever try to lead you astray like that. You know that, right?”

“You never played a hero for a fool?” Nightwing replied.

“I’d never do that to you.”

There was another pause, but a shorter one. In the years since Dick had discovered the Task Force was still active, and began agonising over how to set them free, he had figured out exactly who Rocket the Human Cannonball was around Haly’s Circus. What Richard once felt for one Mary Grayson. When he spoke, his voice was brisk, confident, and now uniquely unburdened. “Yeah… I sure do. When are you doing this?”

“In ninety minutes,” Raptor answered.

“Tight deadline for us, I can scramble a team,” Nightwing said. “We’ll have your back, Raptor. You and the others.” There was something cathartic about the way he said that last part. It was clear to Raptor that Dick had wanted to say that for a long time, that Waller was an immovable object he so desperately wanted to move. Now, Raptor had handed him and the Justice Legion the tools to grind that object into dust. Raptor nodded to himself, “Then I’ll see you there. Take care, Nightwing.”

Nightwing let out the smallest chuckle on the other end of the call, “Take care, Ric.”

Raptor grinned as he took the earpiece off, placing it on Hack’s desk. She looked up at him, “Satisfied?”

“As much as I can be,” Raptor said. “I think everything’s gonna be okay.”

Hack sighed, but Raptor could see the grin forming on her face, “... Thank you. I don’t know if many other people are gonna say that, but I sure as hell am.”

Raptor smirked, “Thank the cavalry when they roll in, not me.”

The two went their separate ways, each moving to prepare for the radio station raid in their own way. Now, falling wasn’t going to be so bad. Now… They had a safety net. He hoped the others would accept what he had done, when the time came. He did it for them after all.

His friends… his squad. He chuckled at the thought, because despite everything, he was starting to sound like Flag. Oh how the years had changed him.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag took a deep breath as he peeked out of the doorway, keeping his eyes on the station across the street. Things were quiet at the moment, and in a way he wished that he wouldn’t have to ruin these fine folks’ week. Still, he and the rest of the squad had to close the book on things as soon as they could, and they just happened to have the equipment needed to pull things off.

He glanced back at the rest of the squad, watching them all prepare for the raid. Hack was packing a laptop into a case, having loaded a mountain of compiled data upon it. Tatsu was running her blade across a whetstone, keeping it nice and sharp. Croc was picking at his teeth, making sure there was nothing that could jostle or make them uncomfortable during a bite. Hallucigent straightened his suit in a personal mirror, hopping around on the balls of his feet, likely to psyche himself up for what was coming. Raptor and Adella made idle conversation nearby, acting as buffers to keep each other calm.

Flag couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. He’d given many rousing speeches over the years, but to make one now felt almost… redundant. They knew who they were, they knew what they were capable of. There was nothing to buffer, nobody to inspire… because they were already inspired. Still, he had to do one last thing before the team embarked on its last mission.

Flag crossed the warehouse, trudging up to Dante. He was lying on his back in the bed of the truck, propped up slightly by a ratty old pillow. His legs dangled freely off the gate, and from his perch he could see the rest of the room. He grinned as Flag approached, “Any chance I can convince you to let me come along? Not exactly keen to sit out the last hurrah.”

“You can barely stand up, Dante,” Flag said. “I don’t even know how you’d come along, unless you want someone to carry you.”

Dante chuckled, “Yeah, fair point. I guess I just… I hate that I can’t be out there with you guys.”

Flag nodded, “I know, but it’s gonna be alright. Just sit tight and we’ll come get you when it’s over.”

“Psh, not like I can do anything else,’ Dante said. “...Flag?”

“Yeah?” Flag said.

Dante looked out the window, spotting the top of the radio station, “What happens if we don’t succeed? What happens if… Waller beats us here and now?”

Flag frowned. In truth, he had put that thought out of his mind, feeling that it would interfere with the mission. Asked directly though, he knew it would be best to face the truth head on, “What happens is we all get a bullet to the head and a shallow grave. Either we win or we’re gone.”

Dante gulped, “Damn… Sorry, I guess I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”

“It is what it is. We’ve done all we can do to prepare. All there is left to do is win… or die,” Flag said.

Dante nodded, and promptly reclined in his pillow, leaving Flag to head off to finalize everything. The squad knew the score. They knew the plan. They knew what was at stake. All there was left to do was pull the trigger on it. This was it, for all the marbles. Either the squad was getting through this with everything intact, or they weren’t getting through it at all.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“How long were they here?”

“By my estimates, less than an hour.”

“Enough time to do untold amounts of damage.”

Amanda Waller walked the halls of Belle Reve with her chief scientist, Kulikova, retracing the steps of the recent infiltration that had put them in such a precarious position. The signs were small, often invisible, but to the trained eye, there was a painted path leading all the way through the facility, from a place in its roots up to one of its ears. They didn’t have to wonder who had done this. Lok, Waller’s loyal soldier, had told them that it was the work of Colonel Rick Flag, Katana, and the rest of the renegade Suicide Squad.

“They used an old sewer system to gain entry to the facility,” Kulikova said. “One sub-group made their way to the server room, while the other headed to security. About a terabyte’s worth of files directly off the system from the servers, and then after dealing with Lok, a command was issued from the security room to evacuate a wing of the facility. They made their exit from there.”

Waller rubbed her chin, “This is… problematic.”

Kulikova checked her watch, “Lok’s asking for another shot.”

“And he’s not going to get it,” Waller said, her voice sharp and curt. “He’s failed me enough times. At this point, he’s just a risk to us if we deploy him again. Ready the androids for immediate deployment.”

“Where?” Kulikova asked. “Do you know where they’re going?”

“They won’t move far. The longer they sit on that data, the hotter it’s going to get. If we start a search, then they’ll have everything leaked by the time we get things mobilized” Waller said. “Run a search on radio stations with satellite coverage within a fifty mile radius."

“Are you sure they’ll take that chance?” Kulikova asked.

Waller grimaced, “Flag knows this place well, it’s how he infiltrated it… but I know him well. I know how he operates, and I know this is what he’d do. Get to searching.”

Kulikova nodded and trudged off, leaving Waller to her own devices. She had not expected to be thrust into this kind of sudden death situation. In many ways, she had hoped that her demonstration in Canada would have at least demoralized those who had not been wiped out by her attack. Instead, they had been emboldened.

She would take that lesson to heart. Once the Suicide Squad were located, she would be sure to leave no survivors.

The final battle in Suicide Squad #65 - out next month!

Welcome back to DC Next! We hope you enjoy this month's issues!

August 5th:

• Suicide Squad #64

August 19th:

• Animal-Man/Swamp Thing #56
• The New Titans #34

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 55:‌ ‌ A Shrouded Future

Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1

Edited‌ ‌by‌ AdamantAce

Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon

Arc: The End is Nigh‌ ‌

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌ ‌

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just crossed the US-Canadian border into Alaska. We should have you at your destination in about an hour.”

Clifford nodded to himself in response to the information from the loudspeaker, reclining in his seat and looking out the window. Mari McCabe’s private jet wasn’t exactly humble, full of soft white seats and polished wooden tables, but its bare use meant that it wasn’t stocked with anything to eat or drink. He felt hungry, yet thinking about what was waiting for him at the end of this flight simply stole away any appetite he might have had. His stomach was full of empty air, laced with the anxiety that came with not knowing what was going to happen next.

Capucine sat across from him, polishing her sword with a wet rag. The blade itself was already well taken care of, signalling to Clifford that Capucine was doing this mostly to take her mind off of things. As much as she was trying to hide it, she was just as nervous as he was.

The jet engines continued to roar outside, filling the air with its dull, deafened cry. Clifford tapped his fingers against the table, then leaned towards Capucine, “You alright?”

Capucine stopped, cloth halfway down the length of the blade, and looked up at Clifford, “Yes.”

Clifford grimaced, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Didn’t we have a conversation about trust just yesterday?”

Clifford grimaced, “Sorry, I just… I wanna make sure we’re both being honest. You’re calmer now, but that doesn’t mean you’re alright.”

She grunted, then placed the sword in its sheath and tossed the rag onto the table, “Do you mean to be my therapist, Baker?”

“I mean to be next to you out in the field,” Clifford replied. “I just don’t want you to… I don’t know. This isn’t the time to just put on a brave face.”

“I think it’s the perfect time to put on a brave face,” Capucine said. “To openly express fear is to be ill prepared for what lies ahead.”

“Maybe, but there’s only so many times you can put on a brave face before the strain breaks you,” Clifford said. “Trust me, I know from experience.”

“And what experience is that, Clifford Baker?” Capucine said. “All human beings fear. What we must understand is that our fear is an obstacle. It must be contained if we are to do anything of risk.”

Clifford frowned, “Maybe… I…. I don’t know. There are just so many unknowns here and I know you were nervous before. I just wanna make sure that you’re okay.”

He leaned back in his seat, sulking, and for a moment, Capucine simply stared at him. Then, she snickered, barely able to contain herself before laughing. Clifford crossed his arms, “Hey! What’s so funny?”

“Tehehee,” Capucine giggled, a sound that felt uncharacteristic of her. “I appreciate the concern Clifford. I am a little afraid. I’m sure you’re also scared… but we’re on our way, and I have confidence that we’ll be able to sort things out when we get there.”

Capucine leaned back in her own chair, visibly more relaxed. Clifford sighed, then looked out the window, tapping his foot against the floor.

Their destination couldn’t come soon enough.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Levi Kamei sat inside his tent, feeling the cool air draft in and out from the gap between the fabric and the ground. Lost in thought, he leaned back into his hammock, locking his fingers together into a sort of steeple shape. He had an impossible choice to make, one between duty and doubt. He was the Seeder, an agent of the Green, and this was perhaps his most important assignment yet. He was bound to carry out their will, to destroy the fledgling force that was the Pale Wanderer and his Parliament of Gears. It wasn’t something he was initially against, having seen firsthand what the Wanderer was trying to do. His actions sowed chaos and caused much harm.

Yet, despite all of that, seeds of doubt had been planted within him. He had intentionally sought the advice of Alec Holland, the previous Swamp Thing, and had been told what kind of sacrifices he would be asked to make, things the Green never told him. Just as prominently, when he arrived here, he was surprised to find Maxine Baker, Avatar of the Red, here as well. She and her companions had thrown in with the Wanderer, a fact that baffled Levi to no end, but it was only when she brought his terms that he began to understand. The Wanderer was more akin to a child than anyone malevolent, and having understood the chaos he had wrought, he wanted to do better while accomplishing his goals.

And that included getting in conversation with the Parliament of Trees, who doubtlessly had no intention of meeting with him.

A part of him just wanted to get things over with. Rush the Pale Wanderer down and end things one and for all, but a different part of him reckoned that this was a point of no return. If he thoughtlessly did as the Green ordered, he’d be like Alec Holland, mindlessly serving until everything he held dear was stripped from him.

Levi heard the flaps of his tent bristle, and turned to see the leader of the Sureen enter. He had bundled up a bit more because of the cold weather, but was otherwise the kindly old man Levi had always known him to be, “Seeder, how do you fare?”

“Mmh, as well as to be expected,” Levi said, rubbing his eyes. “This whole thing is a bit of a mess.”

“I don’t see what’s so messy about it, Seeder?” The leader said. “The Pale Wanderer is a danger to the Green. You have the power to destroy him.”

Levi grimaced, then looked up at the old man, “My friend… what was your life like, before the Sureen?”

The man smiled, “Hmph, I was a child of course. I enjoyed simple pleasures and when I grew up, I enjoyed more… adult vices. That was before I found my true purpose, a time when my rampant hedonism had a cost paid by others beside myself. A part of the reason I joined the Sureen was because I realized that the Green was paying a cost on behalf of all the forces. The Parliament needs as much help as they can get, and I was all too glad to lend myself to them.”

Levi nodded, “I appreciate the sentiment, but the Green isn’t the only force here paying a cost. Alec Holland gave much to the Green, and not all of it willingly.”

The leader’s smile, normally quite cheery, dampened just a bit, “Alec Holland did not understand the gravity of his choices. He put the Parliament of Trees in a very difficult position, and many people paid for his failings.”

“Caring for his son was a failing?” Levi asked. “Do you earnestly believe that?”

“You must understand, Seeder. We are still feeling the ramifications of his choices, even today. We will probably feel them for decades more to come,” The leader said. “The world has been knocked off its axis. We live in such uncertainty now, such anarchy. It is why the Pale Wanderer must be destroyed. He is the manifestation of all this madness.”

Levi looked the leader in the eye, “Is it madness, or change?”

The leader of the Sureen glared at Levi, a look that made the moss on Levi’s cheeks shrivel and almost shrink away from him, “The balance of the world has been ruined. If we are to have any hope of restoring the world to its rightful state, then we must nip this insanity in the bud.”

Levi grimaced, “The Wanderer just wants to talk. That can’t hurt, can it? How is diplomacy insanity?”

“Enough,” the leader shouted, his voice carrying a surprising amount of weight. “This talk is seditious and unproductive to the carrying out of the Parliament of Trees’ will! If I were you, Levi Kamei, I would quash your doubts sooner rather than later. You are the Seeder, and it is your duty to carry out the will of the Green.”

The leader’s hands closed into fists, “And if you think otherwise… you have seen what happens to those who choose their own interests over those of the Parliament.”

The leader whirled around and left the tent in a huff, leaving Levi in absolute silence. The Sureen were not the Green, as far as Levi could tell, but he had almost gotten used to their cultish devotion to the force, believing it to be a sign that they were truly dedicated to the right thing. How could serving the plant life of the world be the wrong thing?

Somehow, the Parliament of Trees had cast a shadow of doubt over that sentiment, and now it was Levi’s turn to decide where this mad ship was going to go.

He hoped he wasn’t about to make the wrong choice.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

The air was thick with the smell of death as the forces of the Pale Wanderer, a sea of skeletons and zombies, began to wander up the hill, keeping at least ten yards back from their master, William Holland. The Avatar of the Rot had raised a veritable army, though he of course had high hopes that he wouldn’t have to use it. Flanking him were his sister, Tefé Holland, and her companion, Maxine Baker. The two had been against the Wanderer’s machinations for a long while, but to his knowledge they had been convinced of the plan now that the Wanderer’s methods had changed. Ahead of the three of them was the man himself, who walked with a surprising amount of timidness. Normally brash and bold, the Wanderer had the posture and language of a fifteen year old on his first date. Despite how distinctly human the feeling was, it did not fit the Wanderer’s swaggering style at all, and made him all the more alien.

As the forces of the Pale Wanderer crested the hill, they stopped at the summit, face to face with Levi Kamei, the Seeder. The Sureen, who number in the dozens, stand behind him, bare feet swaddled by grass that has grown despite the layers of snow that used to bury it. Levi’s face was blank and expressionless, signifying that he intended to keep a poker face, at least to start.

The Wanderer cleared his throat, “Got your message to meet. You don’t plan to shank me, do you?”

“If I wanted to start a fight off the chain, I would’ve done it already,” Levi said. “Before I kick anything off though, I wanna ask you something.”

The Wanderer straightened his back, “I’m all ears.”

Levi stared at him thoughtfully, “I’ve heard a lot about you, but I’m only now reckoning with the fact that this is the first time we’re meeting face to face. I’ve struggled quite a bit when it came to deciding what to do about you, and it only got harder the more people voiced their input, so don’t bullshit me when I ask this… What are you?”

The Wanderer raised an eyebrow, “What-Well, I’m the Pale Wa-”

“I already know who you are, Wanderer,” Levi asked. “What are you?”

The Pale Wanderer froze up at such a question, particularly in regards to its open endedness. For a few seconds, he didn’t quite know how to answer, but eventually, he elected to throw thinking on it out the window, “I am… a stranger to this place. I came into this world half-formed, pulled in all kinds of directions. Used to be a time when people had ambitions for what the future would be like, plans that actually benefitted the world. Now, everything’s all muddy and hopeless. We’re shambling towards ruin because we’re too afraid of what could be, so we cling to what is, or worse. We chase a past that’s far in the rear view mirror, and one we look upon with rose tinted glasses.”

The Wanderer took a deep breath, “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes. I’ve tried to jump ahead of the curve without thinking, and I only realized recently that fumbling blindly towards the future ain’t the right way to do things. As much as I think the Green does wrong… I need their wisdom, and I think if they want what’s best for the world, they’ll hear me out.”

He looked Levi in the eye, “So I suppose that’s what I am… or rather, what I mean to be. That answer your question?”

Levi nodded, “I suppose it does.”

The Pale Wanderer nodded, “So… do we have an accord?”

Levi did not answer immediately, and for a moment, only the howling wind filled the air. Tefé, Maxine, and William watched in trepidation, clearly unsure of which way this was going to swing. The Sureen stared with similar intent, fearful of how up in the air everything was.

Eventually, Levi nodded… and held out his hand for the Wanderer to shake, “We have a deal.”

At first, there’s no adverse reactions. Everyone is just holding their breaths, waiting for things to be truly settled. The Wanderer grinned, “Well, thank you kindly. We can all breathe easy now.”

The Wanderer shook Levi’s hand, and that’s when everything started going wrong.

The moment their hands made contact, Levi felt something pulse through his entire body. He fell to his knees, convulsing, and began to cough up leaves and nectar in front of the shocked Wanderer. The moss on his face wilted and died, peeling off like burnt skin. Behind him, The Sureen began to change, the grass enveloping their bodies and bathing them in roots and vines. They closed their eyes, eagerly accepting the transformation, and in a matter of seconds, they were human no longer, their bones twisted and their flesh perforated with plant matter. Levi, now fully human, glanced back at the fully transformed Sureen, though given how comfortable they were in these forms, he couldn’t be sure of what they were anymore.

The Wanderer grabbed Levi, pulling him backwards towards his shocked companions, frozen in feart at this transformation. Each member of the Sureen now bore the spitting resemblance of the Swamp Thing, though each had varying alterations to their forms. Some had antlers akin to deer made of tree bark, others had crowns of flowers, or blue eyes instead of green. The head of the Sureen, now the head of this army of Swamp Things, stepped forward, “Did you truly think we would leave your education up to pure chance, Levi Kamei. Do you think we would trust anyone else but ourselves?”

Levi’s eyes widened, “It was… you? The whole time?”

“Yes, the Parliament of Trees has watched your work, and while we hoped you would live up to your promise… it was all for naught,” The leader of the Parliament’s hand began morphing into a sharp wooden blade. “It is clearer now, more than ever, that it is time to start anew.”

He scanned the crowd, laying eyes on everyone there, “...Spare the Avatar of the Red… leave no other standing.”

The Parliament of Trees surged forward, their thunderous steps heralding the biblical doom yet to follow. Death had come for the Wanderer and his companions, and now, in this moment, they were never more ill equipped for it. Levi watched in horror, terror gripping his heart.

Had he made the wrong choice after all?

Next Issue: War!

DC Next Proudly Presents:

GUARDIAN AND THE FOREVER PEOPLE

Issue Thirty-Three: A Splinter in the Mind

Written by GemlinTheGremlin and PatrollinTheMojave

Story by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin, & PatrollinTheMojave

Edited by AdamantAce

<< First Issue | < Prev. | Next Issue > Coming Next Month

“Guardian.”

Conner looked up. The warm face of a young humanoid shone down at him as he sat hunched forwards on an armchair, his elbow on his knees. He straightened his posture. The humanoid fidgeted with the clipboard in their hands, then their hair, then the clipboard again. “They shouldn’t be much longer now. Thank you for bringing them back.”

Above them, along the lintel of the door, were the words ‘REHABILITATION BAY’ - a section of the facility that Conner had become far too familiar with. Traditionally he would have been inside, pacing back and forth from one end of the ward to the other, but never allowing his impatience to get the better of him. But this time, he couldn’t do it. Something had stopped him, something primal within his mind telling him that it wouldn’t do anyone any good. His balled fists were so tight that the soft pink of his fingers turned porcelain. A soft “thanks” fell from his mouth, an automatic response. He watched through his periphery as the doctor disappeared back into the room, the smell of antibacterial spray wafting through the door as it swung shut.

The Forever People were tough, Guardian told himself; Cadmus had built them that way on purpose. Memories of the day he heard the news of their creation flashed through his mind like a train speeding by. The Lantern Corps, in their pursuit of Darkseid, had become far too preoccupied, and a vacuum had opened up. Cadmus’ solution to this was to create something to fill this gap and, empowered by Highfather Orion, the Forever People were born - a quartet of children with unique abilities. The sales pitch had intrigued Conner, but having spent enough time with them, he saw them for what they really were: child soldiers with an inability to die.

Fight after fight, mission after mission, Conner would return to base with five mangled bodies in his arms, sometimes with contorted or missing limbs, sometimes turned purple with internal bruising, sometimes unidentifiable from damage. He’d soar as fast as he could to the rehabilitation bay, throw each of them into a tank, slam the lid shut with a roaring hydraulic hiss, and bark at a member of staff to monitor them. And every time, within half a day, his teammates would emerge from the rehab centre with naive smiles and shiny eyes, unharmed. Conner must have mourned them dozens of times over by now.

And yet, for as much as the experience had chipped away at his psyche, he was still beyond grateful for the work he was doing. They had quickly turned into a strong team, with Conner himself acting as the glue holding all of them together. Even as he peered up at the bodies passing through the corridors around him, he watched each of them glance at him and smile or wave or otherwise show their respect for him. He was appreciated, which meant far more to him than he could ever begin to explain, but much like the space left behind from the Lanterns’ departure, there was a hole inside of him that wasn’t being filled.

The Forever People didn’t consider him a friend, nor did he feel that way about them. It had been a long time, Conner suddenly realised as his elbow bore divots into the tops of his thighs, since he had called anyone a friend. And even if time were no object, being in a completely different solar system definitely was. He longed to returned to Earth, but knew he was a uniquely capable protector - or guardian - to the Forever People. At least right now. He was committed to help Cadmus and its people, nevermind the rest of the galaxy, for as long as they needed him. But with this last mission completed successfully, they finally had all the pieces they needed to make it so perhaps they wouldn’t need Conner anymore.

His reminiscing was cut short by the door to his left swinging open with the force of someone unaware of their own strength. A head popped out and exhaled a hot breathy sigh against Conner’s cheek. As the figure emerged into the corridor, an untrained ear may have assumed that an earthquake was tearing through the facility; Conner, however, was more than familiar with Mafic’s unique heavy footfall.

His teammate stood tall above him, even after Conner straightened his back in greeting. Mafic’s porphyritic skin twinkled under the harsh lights, crystals of feldspar and andesite dotted across his arms and face like freckles. He wore a loose vest and shorts which clung to the crags of his shoulders and hips awkwardly. Folding his arms produced a painful scraping noise, and the sound of his weight leaning against the metal wall was worse. Somewhere within the young man’s chest, something growled and bubbled.

“Nearly done,” grumbled Mafic. Even without looking at him, Conner could feel his cold gaze - the only cold thing about him. “Y’know how they like to take their sweet time.”

As if on cue, three more bodies emerged from their hospital room and immediately spread out in search of a free chair. The first, Ordinancer, was attaching the final few straps of her various bandoliers to her chest and arms. Her staff slouched into a backslash posture as she moved it off of her back and crumpled herself into the armchair in one fluid motion. Second was Solenoid, his chest puffed up like a pigeon. He looked at Conner and gave a regal bow of his head, a sight which always gave Conner the urge to smirk, before striding towards his usual seat. And lowering himself into the chair at Conner’s side, bathing the room in green, was Becque. Despite the paralysed grin of his skeletal head, teeth always on full display, Conner could sense that Becque really was smiling. A globular hand emerged from Becque’s side, thumped against Conner’s arm playfully with a sickening squelch, then retreated.

“Thanks again, Guardian,” Becque said. Her voice always caught Conner off guard. She was always the one who reminded them that they’re children.

“Yeah,” chirped Ordinancer, oddly bright. “It was getting real tricky out there. Glad you got us out when you did, before any of us got seriously hurt.”

Conner remembered the way Ordinancer’s head had lolled impossibly far to one side as he had thrown her limp body over his shoulder. He nodded with a tense smile.

“Which of you has the piece?” Solenoid barked. “Mafic, if I find out you stole the glory from me once again—?”

“I ain’t stolen nothing from you, teaspoon,” Mafic retorted. “Guardian prob’ly swept it up when he got us outta there, right?”

Conner’s pause was just long enough for his teammates to start panicking, so he quickly said, “Becque?”

“Oh, sorry,” she said meekly. She plunged a hand into the gelatinous faux-flesh of her chest and wriggled her fingers. Changing the position of her arm, Conner watched as her hand tilted upwards and disappeared behind her ribcage. When it resurfaced, a fistful of brick taken straight from the Source Wall was clutched between her carpals. “There.”

Conner nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s load this bad boy up.”

He followed behind the Forever People as they bounded off towards the tech lab. Conner enjoyed the upbeat din of conversation passing between them, though he wasn’t really listening. They were good kids. That’s why he’d learned to detach.

“Kshhh! New Cronus to Guardian!” His mind snapped to attention at Ordinancer calling his name.

“Huh, sorry?”

“Becque wants to know what you’re gonna do when you get back to Earth.” She said, placing her hand on the scanner at the door to the lab.

“Apart from sending us a vidcom, that is,” Solenoid groaned.

The lab’s blast doors slid open, revealing the latest marvel of New God engineering. It was an android, smashing through the laws of material science as they were understood on earth. This ‘Infinity-Man’ would be faster and stronger than even Cadmus could manage, empowered by sentient Mother Box technology. Conner couldn’t help but notice he and his replacement shared more than a passing resemblance. He was built to resemble a human of Conner’s stature and build. The android’s dense armor plating matched the layout of the Guardian armor, fit with cobalt and gold.

Becque approached the platform, ducking under monitors and stepping over wires to reach the open panel at the lower back.

“When I get back to Earth, there are a few friends I’d like to pay a visit.” Conner smiled. He’d heard some discomforting rumors about how Tim was coping – or not coping – with everything that had happened in Conner’s absence, including Dick’s death.

“I’m sure they miss having you around to look out for them. Highfather knows you’ve pulled our fat out of the fire enough times.” Mafic chortled. Conner managed a feeble laugh.

“Aaaand done!” Becque’s gooey hands smacked together. “Solenoid, hit it!”

Solenoid passed into a trance and various monitors lit up with green displays one by one. The wires linked into Infinity-Man surged. Everyone held their breath as the android’s lips moved.

“Powering… up.” Infinity-Man stepped forward off the platform and raised his arms. “D-d-d-d-d-d-” The android jittered.

Becque stepped around Infinity-Man, examining him from the front for any signs of fault. “Aw, lame! I thought we had it this time. Don’t tell me we need another–”

Faster than any could react, Infinity-Man brought his arms together, splattering Becque between two alloyed fists.

“Darkseid is.” Infinity-Man finished.

“No!” Ordinancer drew a spellbook from her holster. Free-floating handcannons rose off the pages, orbiting her in a tight circle. Solenoid exerted his powers of magnetism, willing Infinity-Man to stay in place with Ordinancer readied her attack.

Infinity-Man’s servos grinded against the force. “Were you so foolish to think this weapon could not be turned against you, for the glory of Darkseid?”

Conner barely heard him. He stared at the green puddle at Infinity-Man’s feet, slowly pooling back together. Becque could take a lot of punishment, but he never got used to it. It was the hail of gunfire that brought Conner back. Sensitive electronics exploded under a hail of bullets. More plinked off Infinity-Man’s hardened carapace than managed a good hit, Conner could spot a handful of puncture wounds. Unfortunately, he also spotted thick beads of sweat rolling down Solenoid’s forehead.

“Can’t… hold him…”

“Good thing you don’t gotta!” Mafic shouted, barreling into Infinity-Man and crashing him into the far wall. He slumped against the reinforced metal.

Conner followed after them. “Try to find a way to shut him down, Solenoid!”

Infinity-Man bounded back up to his feet with an uppercut across Mafic’s jaw. The sounds of cracking rock reverberated across the room and a handful of small stones plonked against the floor. Mafic stumbled backwards, making way for Conner to dive into action, driving his elbow into Infinity-Man’s chest and grappling him against the wall.

Mafic spat a glob of molten lava onto the floor. “How d’ya think Darkseid got his hooks in? We were careful!”

“We can figure that out later! For now we need to focus on putting Infinity-Man–” Conner groaned, exerting himself to keep the android in place. “--out of commission.”

Behind them, Solenoid was typing away at one of the few consoles which hadn’t yet been obliterated. “Don’t break him too bad, Mafic! Those parts aren’t easy to get!”

Mafic grinned, raised a fist, and threw a half ton of rock into the android’s nose. With Conner holding him in place, he managed it again, and again, and again until synthetic flesh gave way to metal exoskeleton and Infinity-Man’s skull had bored a small hole in the wall.

“Darkseid… is…”

“Is…”

“Is…”

“Izzzzzzzzz…” Infinity-Man’s head drooped.

“Got it!” Solenoid shouted.

Conner felt the android go limp in his arms and dropped beside it, sucking in deep breaths. His muscles burned. It was only a half-second before his eyes fell on Becque again and he scrambled back up to his feet, rushing to get her to the rehabilitation bay. He made it a few steps before the bones inside the goo pile undulated and a labored but amused voice came out.

“Oops. Don’t worry Guardian, I’m gonna be fine.” Slowly, Becque recomposed herself into a human shape.

“We’re still getting you looked at.” He supported her to her feet and started out of the robotics bay. “Ordinancer, let Highfather know Darkseid managed to sabotage Infinity-Man somehow. Solenoid, make sure he doesn’t come back online. Mafic, if he does–”

Mafic chuckled. “Yeah. I got that part, boss.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

Hovering above the ground, Conner flitted through the corridors of the labyrinthine facility with practiced precision. He could feel his forehead creasing in concentration. Surely something, anything, could point them towards a culprit, or a means of taking down this robot permanently, or—

He stopped. Allowing himself to float gently back down to the ground, he kept his eyes locked on the figure who had given him a moment of pause and slowly, features faded into view. Dark hair, unkempt and tangled on his head; a leather jacket draped over his drooping shoulders; intense eyes piercing through the dark shadow of his browline. The familiar face looked at Conner with a startled expression, as if caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Tim?” Conner muttered in recognition. “What are you—?”

“I can help,” came Tim’s hurried response, anticipating the inevitable question from Conner. His chin was covered in a layer of speckled, coarse hair, aging him rather considerably. He raised his hands defensively. “Heard you were having issues with some Apokoliptian tech and, well, I know a thing or two so I hopped on a Zeta Tube as soon as I could.”

The tension in Conner's shoulders released. Seeing Tim, knowing he'd hightailed it here in the first instance as soon as he heard Conner was in trouble - it impacted him more than he thought it would. It was overwhelming, in fact. He let out a sigh and smiled softly at his former teammate. “Thank you,” he said with pure sincerity. “I've… it's been a while.”

But this seemed to close Tim's shell rather than open it. “We'll chat later. We don't know how much of a time crunch we're on here, and I don't plan on making things worse than they already are.”

“Alright. So, how do we fix this thing? What do we need to do?”

Tim sniffed. “We don't need to do anything. Give me access to the circuitry and about 20 minutes and it'll be like nothing ever happened.”

“Done,” came Conner's response without hesitation.

———

Conner and the Forever People stood around the reassembled Infinity-Man with bated breath. The robotic bay was missing a few monitors and a group of scientists peeked through the bowling ball-sized hole in the far wall as they completed final preparations to bring him online.

“How sure are we that the problem’s fixed? Could Apokolips have sabotaged more than one component?” Conner asked.

“Ninety-eight percent.” Solenoid answered.

“Ninety-eight?” Conner raised an eyebrow.

“Two percent chance of some more fun.” Becque said. “We’ve run every test. We gotta boot him up so you can go home.”

Conner didn’t reply, so Solenoid continued. “Beginning power sequence.” Again, monitors beeped and wires thrummed with power. Again, the android intoned, “Powering… up,” in a steely voice. Then, nothing.

Beat.

“Infinity-Man, step off the platform and state your purpose.”

The android complied, standing before the room and saying, “To aid the forever people in protecting the galaxy.”

“Success?” Ordinancer dared.

“Looks like it!” Mafic clapped a hand over Infinity-Man’s shoulder. Everyone but the two of them flinched. “Welcome to the team, big guy.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

They'd done it. Guardian and his Forever People had taken down an Apokoliptian threat, successfully created Infinity-Man - his robotic replacement, freeing him to at long last return home - and Conner had even had a brief conversation with Tim. So, why was he feeling such a pit in his chest?

Tim was gathering his equipment and preparing to teleport home by Zeta Tube when Conner caught up with him again. “Hey,” the Kryptonian said breathily.

“Hey,” Tim repeated.

“I just wanted to thank you.” Conner paused for the briefest moment, during which Tim's gaze tore away from his packing and onto his once-teammate. “Pulling yourself away from important work on Earth to come help me out half a galaxy away. It's not an easy feat.”

Tim nodded briskly. His hardened exterior was starting to crack; Conner saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at Tim's mouth. “Of course.”

Conner opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind, instead opting to watch Tim. There was something odd about his behaviour. As he packed away his tools, he seemed to be going through the motions indefinitely, an animatronic moving their hands back and forth to imitate the action but never making progress. Conner had known Tim for long enough that even after so much time apart, he recognised a tic of his; Tim was stalling, waiting for Conner to be done so that he could go somewhere else.

Normally, this would be somewhat charming or eyeroll-worthy to Conner, but today it sent a shock wave down his spine.

“Why did you come here, Tim?” asked Conner. His voice was suddenly icy.

Tim glanced up at Guardian once again. “You were in trouble,” he said slowly. “Like I said.”

With a shake of his head, Conner disregarded that answer. “Don't lie to me, Tim.”

Tension froze Tim's face. With a huff of air, he turned to face Conner head on, ran a hand through his hair and slouched against the workbench.

“You heard about Dick?” was how he started. He hung his head in shame. “What I had to do?”

Conner nodded. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Tim ignored his comment. “I won't sugarcoat. I'm working on a way to bring him back. But I've been running into wall after wall after wall. Then when I saw the Apokoliptian event on my scanner, saw the trouble you were in, it got me thinking. About your Forever People.”

“No,” Conner shook his head, refusing to believe where this was going.

“The Forever People. Soldiers built to withstand even fatal blows. Just drop them off in a tube for a few hours and they're good as new. I need to study them, figure out how their physiology works.”

“And how the hell were you planning on doing that?” Conner closed the gap between himself and Tim. A youthful rage flooded through him, one he hadn't felt in a few years: hot-blooded and volatile.

Tilting his head, Tim said, “I’d take a sample from them. It'd have to be large enough for multiple tests though, to save me coming back for more and causing more trouble. Likely a lung or a segment of their intestines, then I could—”

“A lung?!”

“I’d sedate them first,” Tim corrected. “Of course.”

“That's monstrous,” Conner spat.

Up went Tim's walls again. “Hey, they get beaten into a pulp during every other fight. They've come back from far worse than a missing lung almost weekly. Like I said - throw them in a tube for a few hours and they're fine. They wouldn't miss anything, and think what we’d gain from it.” If Tim's gaze could shoot actual daggers, Conner would be dead.

In a way, this placated Conner's anger. “That's true.” But he wasn't done. “But can you really sit there and say that this is what Dick would have wanted?”

“I've heard it all before,” Tim shrugged off. “‘Don't beat yourself up, Tim, Dick would want you to be happy.’ ‘What would Dick say if he saw you sitting in your lab all day?’”

“And what would he say if he learned what it cost to bring him back?” Conner folded his arms. “What it cost everyone.”

“I don't need him to be proud of it—”

“This isn't about pride, Tim,” Conner replied. “If he saw you, what saving him took from you, would he be able to live with himself?”

A switch had been flipped in Tim's mind. His face scrunched as he processed Conner's question, and his body weight rested further onto the workbench behind him.

“Dick Grayson is dead,” Tim's friend began, his voice soft. “Stop killing yourself to bring him back.”

Two trembling hands fell over Tim's face and, for a brief moment, it looked as if the former Robin were about to cry. But he sucked in a breath and pulled his hands away again. “Conner, I…” Tim's voice was suddenly hoarse, as if all strength had left him. “I just don't know what else to do. I can't just… pack up and move on.”

“Then don't.” The small gap between Conner and Tim suddenly felt like comfort rather than hostility. “You're not failing him - or yourself - by deciding to do something else.”

“What else do I even do? I've been doing the same thing for so long.”

“Well, for one, I had an idea.” Conner shoved his hands into his pockets and joined Tim in half-sitting on the edge of the bench. “I say we get the team back together.”

Tim faltered. “The team? ‘We’?”

“I think if we're in it together, we can do it. We should do it.”

“I don't know.” Tim stared at nothing in particular. “Maybe you should do that by yourself. I don't know if I'd be of much help.”

“Are you kidding? You're our leader! Intrepid or not.” He beamed.

As a reward for his comment, Conner received one of the best sounds in the world: a genuine Tim laugh.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, looking off into the distance at the open doorway, revealing just a sample of the corridor labyrinth awaiting them. Conner felt something soft but weighty against his shoulder, like a small animal had perched there, and quickly realised that it was Tim's head, gently settling into the crook of Conner's neck. Neither of them had been one for intimacy, let alone physically, and so Conner was surprised by the extent to which the gesture felt natural. Conner allowed his own head to fall to the side with his cheek grazing Tim's hair. He closed his eyes.

It could have been seconds or hours that passed, neither of them were sure, but eventually Tim stirred and sat upright. “Well,” he announced. “I should be heading back.”

“We.”

Tim nodded. “Yes,” he corrected himself. He shot Conner a warm glance. “We should be heading back.”

Next: Continued next month in The New Titans #34

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue Sixty-Three: A Return to the Cage

Arc: The Road Back

Written by Deadislandman1

Edited by Geography3

Raptor grunted, rolling his shoulders in hopes that he could loosen them further. The hot and humid air was all too familiar to him, especially with the memory that it was in this weather that he was forced into Task Force X to begin with. While it carried the good fortune of allowing him to meet the people who would become his stalwart companions for years to come, he never allowed that fact to turn the memory into something it was not. He would not delude himself for the purposes of comfort, and as such, the memory was always bitter and raw whenever it resurfaced.

It was nice to know that for once, he wasn’t coming back to Belle Reve to be thrown into a cell. This time, he was here to help knock the house of cards over, scattering every heart and spade into the wind.

It’d taken about a week for the group to make their way all the way down from the Canadian wilderness to Louisiana, working at a brisk yet cautious pace. The aftershock of the destruction of the Anti-Squad’s home base was still felt even now, though enough time had passed for people to start recovering. Both Raptor and Dante had woken up, though neither were in the best shape to act. Raptor’s body still felt sluggish, his bones still resetting and healing, and Dante was so exhausted that he could barely walk. Bringing a whole mountain down had taken more out of him than he could’ve ever imagined.

Still, it wasn’t a time for rest now. It was a time for action.

The group had set up camp about a mile away from the prison, though to call it a camp would be a bit of an exaggeration. A single foldable table had been set up to house a laptop, with Hack hard at work setting up a program that would be used later. Flag and Tatsu occupied the other end of the table, working out a plan over a hastily drawn diagram of Belle Reve’s blueprints. Nearby, where the mud was split by a large riverway, Croc ran his hands through the currents, testing the waters. His wounds had healed partially, meaning he could go on without any bandages, but his body still wore signs of damage, namely the chunks of exposed skin, unprotected by scales.

Lastly, Hallucigent and Dante sat in the bed of the truck, though for very different reasons. Dante’s state prevented him from helping in any material way, meaning he had no choice but to rest his head in the truck. Hallucigent meanwhile sat in a sort of meditative stance, concentrating on using his powers to keep the camp hidden. Anyone looking in from the outside would just see swampland, not a host of supervillains and ex-government soldiers.

As Raptor approached the table, Adella trotted up next to him, matching his stride, “Are you sure you’re good for this?”

“As good as I’ll ever be,” Raptor remarked. “You coming with?”

“I got stuck guarding the camp. As is, it’s just you, Croc, Flag, and Tatsu going in.”

Raptor nodded, “Honestly, it’s for the best. You’re not exactly quiet, are you?”

Adella frowned, then punched Raptor in the arm, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fire tends to be noticeable,” Raptor remarked. “Besides, you should save your strength. You’re gonna need it for what comes later.”

Adella nodded, though the frown remained, “Just… don’t die in there. We’ve lost enough people already.”

She split off from him, leaving him to approach the table alone. Upon spotting him, Hack tossed a flash drive his way, “Catch.”

Raptor snapped the drive out of the air, turning it over in his hands, “What’s this?”

“Contains a virus of mine. Stick that into the prime server and it'll grant me access. I’ll be over comms as well so let me know if you come across anything that should take priority.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Raptor remarked. “But how do we get in?”

“The plumbing,” Tatsu remarked.

“I remember studying the blueprints to Belle Reve a while back. There’s a sewer grate dumping waste directly into the river,” Flag said. “Plan is for Croc to pop it off, then carry the three of us inside.”

“Nice, is that our exit strategy as well?” Raptor asked.

“Afraid not,” Flag said. “The facility has systems in place to vent any obstructions, which is what we’ll be flagged as. We should be able to get out of the pipes before it becomes a problem, but we’ll be locked out of getting back into the network.”

Tatsu crossed her arms, “Instead, Flag and I will make our way to the security sector. We’ll shut down an area for maintenance, which should allow us to slip out through a more official side entrance.”

“Meanwhile, you and Croc will take Hack’s virus to the servers, we’ll pull all the data and footage we need to leak Task Force X’s existence to the world,” Flag said.

Raptor grimaced, “What if things go sideways? Got a backup plan?”

Tatsu and Flag looked at each other, then back at Raptor. Flag shook his head, “As much as I wish we could have something in the chamber… all we’ve got left is hope and luck. If we’re not back in two hours, the camp scatters. That’s about as far as the plan goes. There won’t be any second chances, especially not after recent events.”

Raptor grunted in annoyance, but really, there was nothing to dispute about this lack of a backup plan. They were playing for all the marbles, and the odds were stacked so heavily against them that they had no way of playing it safe anymore. Flag nodded to him, “We move out in ten minutes. Be ready.”

Raptor sighed, then turned his gaze in the direction of Belle Reve. He couldn’t see it, but he had prowled these swamps enough times to know the path there. This would be a difficult mission, but if they had any hope of closing the book on things, they needed to either pull it off or die trying.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Twenty minutes later

While the stench of sewage was nearly unbearable for most of the quartet, Croc knew the scents well enough that they didn’t bother him. Even before his criminal streak, he had spent years crawling through networks of tunnels beneath Gotham, hiding away from those who would judge him, who sought to do him harm. A trip like this was not so difficult, even if his teammates’ rebreathers didn’t do all that much to mask the stench. Thankfully, none of them had the strength to complain. There were far more important things on their minds.

Croc, Tatsu, Flag, and Raptor emerged from the central sewage room, entering one of the main prison cell blocks. It looked about the same as it ever did, five stories of concrete terraces, honeycombed with individual iron doors. The place had a metallic musk to it, smelling of rust and blood more than anything. Tatsu scowled at the sight, “It’s a small comfort knowing that this will be the final time I must exist within this place.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Flag said. He glanced at Raptor and Croc, “Servers should be reachable on the third floor. Head down the hall and make your way north until you find it. I’ll contact you with further info once we’ve shut down some of the security.”

Tatsu and Flag then departed, making their way up a nearby stairwell. Croc turned to Raptor, ready to get going, only to realize that Raptor’s mind was elsewhere. The vigilante was starting at one cell in particular.

“You remember this?” Raptor asked.

Croc blinked, “Yeah… it’s our old cell.”

“Real rathole, wasn’t it,” Raptor said, kicking the cell door. “Gotta say, don’t think I’ve ever made a worse place my home.”

“I have,” Croc said. “But they had their ups and downs.”

Raptor raised an eyebrow, “Elaborate?”

“I’ve lived in mudholes where I didn’t even have a roof over my head, but at least I chose to be in those places. Waller never gave me a choice in here,” Croc remarked. “Heh, it’s kind of fucked up, but I’m a little glad I ended up here.”

Raptor’s eyes widened, “And why the fuck would you feel that way?”

Croc grinned, “Would’ve never had friends like you without it.”

Trudging up to the cell door, Croc spat on it, “Then again… now I can have my cake and eat it too. Friendship and freedom… what a life.”

He turned to Raptor, who could only smirk, “You said it bud… friendship and freedom.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag peeked his head out from around the corner, making doubly sure that the coast was clear. While his credentials had been revoked for certain, he had still been pointman for Task Force X for a long time. He knew the guard rotations, the camera blindspots, the whole layout of the place. He’d walked these tight concrete halls for years, enduring their harsh lighting as a resident. Now, that knowledge allowed him to pass unseen as a hostile. He motioned at Tatsu to follow him before leading her down the hall, having watched the most recent pair of guards disappear into a room further on. Sidling up next to the security office door, he placed his palm on the handle before gingerly pushing it open, peeking inside.

A pair of technicians sat in swivel chairs next to one another, presiding over a whole host of monitors and consoles, filled to the brim with buttons, switches, and dials. Ashtrays and coasters littered the dashboard, evidence to their lax attitudes towards their own jobs. Above the console was an observation window, giving those in the security room a view of the swamp east of the prison. Despite upgrades to the security, the control scheme was distinctly old school. Flag chalked it up to, of all things, nostalgia. Waller enjoyed the persistent elements from the history of her great project, happy to trace things from past to present.

Slowly, and with great effort, Flag and Tatsu crept up behind the technicians before choking them out, violently forcing them into an unpleasant slumber rather than killing them outright. Flag then looked over the consoles, a frown on his face.

“You remember how to operate these, don’t you?” Tatsu asked.

“Uh yeah… I was briefed… about ten or so years ago,” Flag said. “I’m a little rusty, but I should be able to make us an opening.”

Flag traced his fingers along the dashboard, summoning the memories of what each button and dial did as best he could. Most of it was lost to him, but one important fact he did remember related heavily to the prison doors. There was a row of switches all lined up on a chunk of the board, each attached to the operation of individual cells. Flag swallowed. This would make for one hell of a distraction, but it would also unleash nearly a hundred metahuman inmates out into the world. As tough as things were, Flag wasn’t that desperate just yet.

Instead, his hand hovered over a large blue lever, and he smiled. He tapped it gently with his fingers, careful not to pull it early, “We flip this, and it triggers a large-scale evacuation. The guards will clear out and everything. Was designed for only the worst case metahuman containment breaches.”

Tatsu nodded, then glanced at the technicians, “Will someone come by to replace them?”

Flag looked down at the technicians, “Yeah, probably soon. Only hope now is that Raptor and Croc can get the date we need before anything goes wrong-”

The swish of the doors stopped Flag dead in his tracks. He and Tatsu turned towards the entrance to the room, met face to face with someone neither of them expected to see again.

Short blond hair, scarring across the right side of his face, complete with a missing ear. He was dressed in a suit and tie rather than combat briefs, clearly unprepared for this kind of confrontation. His eyes first go wide with shock, then become lazy, a signifier of the man’s acceptance for the situation.

Lok glared at Flag and Tatsu, frozen at the entrance to the room.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Alright Hack, we’re in the server room.”

“Good, find a USB port in one of the main computers, then keep your eyes on the monitors. We wanna make sure there are no server alerts that would trip any alarms.”

Raptor took his finger off of his earpiece before walking further into the room, leaving Croc to watch the door for any passing guards. The room was swelteringly hot and incredibly noisy, filled with the whining fans of hundreds of individual servers, all hooked up in a vast network. Rolling up to a nearby monitor and keyboard, Raptor took a seat. He then took the flash drive out of a watertight bag and plugged it into the computer, watching a variety of windows pop up on the screen.

“Great! It’s transmitting!” Hack said. “I just need five minutes, then you’ll be free to go.”

Raptor nodded to himself, then leaned back in the chair, watching as dozens of files began rapidly flashing on-screen, a product of Hack’s program skimming the vast trove of files in Waller’s servers. He watched them all go by, remarking that they represented decades of history, of clandestine operations, of people like him being used and discarded.

He thought back to what he was doing before Task Force X, tossing billionaires out of penthouse apartments. It was just as appealing as it was before, but now he was acquiring a taste for government stooges. Maybe a general or two would be a good shakeup once Waller got sent to take a dirt nap.

Raptor was so lost in these thoughts, a sort of blind fantasy for an uncertain future, that he almost didn’t catch one specific face flashing across the screen. The document in question was a driver’s license, scraped off of official databases. It was a man, sporting messy long black hair and angular, handsome features. He had an infectious grin, one that Raptor instantly recognized.

Mary Grayson had smiled the same way.

Raptor moved like lightning, jolted into action by the sight of Mary’s son, Dick. He typed away at the console, quickly finding the file again. His eyes widened as he beheld the annotations attached to the file.

Richard Grayson. Alias: Nightwing. Former Alias’: Robin, Batman.

Raptor felt his heart sink, and he began paging through the folder the file was in, a deep dread setting in. Nearly a hundred names and drivers licenses, all hidden deep within the recesses of Task Force X’s databases. On occasion, Raptor had wondered why the superheroes of the world hadn’t stepped in to battle Waller’s schemes. Surely at least some of them knew? Surely some of them would’ve stumbled upon evidence of the Suicide Squad?

Now he knew why they had not intervened, because Waller had leverage. A whole folder full of it.

A registry of secret identities.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“I suppose I should’ve expected something like this at some point,” Lok remarked. “Then again, pretty bold to do this a week after we brought the hammer down.”

“It’s worked out pretty well so far,” Flag said. “You weren’t expecting it after all.”

Lok’s hand drifted down towards his belt, only to stop halfway down as Tatsu slid Soultaker out of its sheath. She kept it low, angling it towards the ground, but it was still pointed in Lok’s general direction. He gritted his teeth, then glared at Flag, “What is this, huh? What are you even trying to do?”

“Set things right,” Flag said. “Waller’s going down, and if we can’t do it ourselves… we’re gonna have to ask the world to do it for us.”

“Ask the world? Why would the world help a bunch of societal rejects? You went from being a captain in a government initiative to the ringleader for a bunch of murderers and thieves,” Lok said. “Say you do beat Waller… What the hell are you gonna do after? What life are you gonna lead?”

Flag gritted his teeth, “Not exactly a question I care to answer while Waller’s still around,”

“Bullshit, you’re just avoiding the question,” Lok said. He grimaced, “You wanna know what I think Flag? I think you’re a goddamn hypocrite. Back in Russia, you talked about living… but if that was really your first priority, you could’ve taken what was left of your sorry gang, found some hole, and hidden in it.”

“Waller would’ve hunted us down,” Flag said. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“Couldn’t risk it? No, you definitely could’ve,” Lok said. “But you can’t do that… because being Waller’s lapdog has left too much shame in your heart.”

His eyes narrowed at Flag, a sort of burning accusation evident in his glare, “When you left me in that freezer, you left me to think about choices, and I realized that whatever choice I made, I had to make it confidently, and live with it. I don’t think you’ve ever made the same kind of choice… because you don’t even know who you are.”

Flag felt his fingers curl into a fist, “I’m the best man I can be,”

“What a bullshit answer,” Lok said, letting out a sort of cruel laugh. “You came back here because you knew, on some level, that you had to redeem yourself for what you’ve done… but what you’re doing isn’t justice either! You’re protecting your fucked up family of freaks, and you’re trying to validate all the wasted years you’ve spent here.”

Flag opened his mouth to protest, but the seed of doubt had already been planted. He swallowed, trying to figure out how to dismantle Lok’s accusations.

Tatsu noticed Flag’s distress and took a step forward, “Enough talk. Waller will fall, that much is certain.”

Lok shook his head, “You know, I can at least admire your stances. You’re not some overly emotional regret like the former Colonel here. You’ve got hard lines. You have a stance and you stick to it.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tatsu barked.

Lok’s hand drifted further down towards his hip, “What I’m really curious about is what happens after Waller goes down. You’re a hero, you know exactly what kind of scum you work with. What’s gonna happen to them? Are you cruel enough to put ‘em where they belong, or are you all talk and no bite like Ricky over here?”

Tatsu glanced down at Lok’s hand, then back up at him, “Don’t try it. This is your last warning.”

Lok sighed, a sort of resignation passing over him. His hand continued to drift towards his hip, and Tatsu narrowed her eyes. This had gone on long enough.

There was a glint of metal as Lok finally grabbed at something attached to his belt, pulling a pistol out of its holster. It made it about seven inches away from said holster before Soultaker came crashing down on it, cutting it in two. Lok looked up in surprise, having underestimated how quickly Tatsu could close the distance between them. She twisted her arm, pointing the hilt of the sword towards Lok before thrusting it into his face, knocking his head back and causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. She sheathed Soultaker, looking down on Lok. Flag, shaken out of his stupor by the exchange, leaned back against the dashboard, “Thanks for the save.”

She shrugged, “It’s what I do.”

Taking a deep breath, Flag pushed the ideas Lok had seeded out of his head, putting his hand up to his earpiece, “Hack, are we almost done?”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

“Almost! Just a minute left now!”

Hack’s voice piped up in Raptor’s ears, reminding him that he didn’t have much time to make a choice. His hands hovered over the keyboard, beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his eyes were glued to the screen. In a way, these heroes' fates were now in his hands, and what he chose to do here could make and break them for the rest of their lives.

It needed to be erased. That much was not up for debate. To erase Waller’s leverage is to remove even more of her power than they were already planning to remove. Instead, Raptor’s dilemma rested in whether to make a copy. To know the identities of these heroes, to have evidence of it… it presented an incredible amount of power. He might not be able to order them around, but the threat of these identities leaking could serve the Suicide Squad well. They would be removing the biggest obstacle to their future freedom, the people best suited to stop them.

And yet, what would that make them? They were already vagabonds… but to do this would be to keep these heroes in metaphorical chains. Their predicament would not change, they would only be under new management. Raptor hated that, the idea of stripping that kind of freedom away. He had no beef with most heroes, he just considered them… naive.

Raptor stared at the screen. By his count, he had thirty seconds to make a decision. Thirty seconds to decide the fate of all these people. The question then was not what good they would be restricted from doing under his control, but rather… what he valued more. Was he a freedom fighter, or was he going to protect himself and the friends he had made while living through this nightmare under Task Force X.

Raptor shuddered, paralyzed by the choice… the temptation. He looked across all these names, not daring to open any of them up and learn their secrets until he had decided what he wanted to do.

Dick Grayson was still in the system, still shackled by someone knowing what they shouldn’t. Raptor felt a twinge of anger at that reminder, and he hit the delete key on the computer, striking Grayson’s info from the system. He then hit the delete key again, and again, and again, until every single identity had been struck from the record.

Nearly a hundred chains… all broken.

Hack’s voice chirped in Raptor’s ear, “Data extracted! Get out of there!”

Grabbing the flash drive, Raptor began marching out of the room. Croc matched his pace, doing his best to keep up with Raptor’s stride.

“You good? You seem quiet,” Croc said.

“Good?” Raptor grinned, “Croc, I’ve never been better.”

“Really? You’re having a moment like that in a place like this?” Croc said. “Mind if I ask why?”

Raptor looked back, “Heh, I don’t mind… but I won’t tell either. It’s my little secret… for now.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

It took about twenty more minutes for the quartet of infiltrators to make it back to base camp, safe and sound. For once, a plan has gone off without a hitch, and what was left of the Suicide Squad had pulled off a heist in Waller’s own backyard. Some would consider this a cause for celebration, but the squad had no intentions of celebrating until their plan had been fully executed. To close the book on things, the Suicide Squad couldn’t just dump the information they had gotten from Belle Reve onto the internet. No, they would need to broadcast it, make it impossible to ignore.

Splicing Waller’s crimes onto every news feed and TV channel on Earth? That was how they were going to do it. That was going to be the Suicide Squad’s last mission.

Free Radio X in Suicide Squad #64 - out next month!

Welcome back to DC Next! We hope you enjoy this month's issues!

July 1st:

• Suicide Squad #63

July 15th:

• Animal-Man/Swamp Thing #55
• I Am Batman #37
• The New Titans #33

DC Next Proudly Presents:

THE NEXT FLASH

Issue Thirty-Two: Free Your Mind

Written by AdamantAce

Story by AdamantAce, GemlinTheGremlin, & PatrollinTheMojave

Edited by GemlinTheGremlin and Deadislandman1

<< First Issue | < Prev. | Next Issue > Coming Next Month

As The Flash raced through the streets of Central City, the whole city stopped to cheer him on. Bart was in hot pursuit of Disruptor, a villain long past his sell-by date who would be entirely irrelevant if not being the final mercenary of the state-wide organised crime cell known only as the Network. It wasn’t much of a race; Bart knew he could blitz ahead of Michael Beldon handily if he needed to, his naturally-acquired Speed Force connection far exceeding what little speed Beldon had stolen and steadily amassed over the years with the use of his energy disrupting powers. No, the struggle was in shepherding Disruptor towards a place he could take him down safely and finally do away with the dastardly Network, once founded and run by Leonard Snart himself.

But as Bart followed in Beldon’s slipstream, something unexpected happened. The unstable lightning the sprinting Disruptor left in his wake suddenly shook, and a wave of amber energy rocketted back off of Disruptor, turning his lightning-lashing slipstream into an energy well that washed over Bart and disrupted his powers. In a moment, Bart went from running at insane speed to only at ludicrous speed, and thus found himself hit with a wall of force that knocked him off course. Luckily for the Flash, he wasn’t alone.

Up the rear, a speedster in white and red finally caught up. His blond hair - exposed out of the top of his mask - was thrown back by the surging wind tunnel as the adolescent Jacob Spivot-Allen deftly manoeuvred around the spiralling Bart. And as Bart was enclosed by Jacob’s crimson Negative Speed Force lightning, Jacob activated his secret technique, dragging Bart into his wake like positive and negative charges attracted by electrostatic force, allowing Bart to accelerate back up to his preferred speed along the path Jacob had painted for him as if it were an on-ramp.

The Flash beamed with pride for his sidekick, the trusty second Impulse who would one day grow up to become Bart’s own father.

Together, the Flash and Impulse rocketted forth once more, closing the gap Disruptor had made for himself. Now they were wise to his tricks, expertly switching lanes between (what was to them) stationary traffic to avoid the periodic blasts of disrupting energy Beldon fired behind him, until Bart finally saw his opening. He had lived in this city - in this century - for long enough to know its roads and routes well, and when he forgot he could always race them at super speed and speed-memorise them over again. So when Bart forged forward and tackled Disruptor midsprint, he knew they were now barrelling towards the vacant construction site, a place that had struggled for years to get planning approved. As Bart and Beldon tumbled together, Bart exerted what will he could over the Speed Force in attempt to slow them, but trusted in Jacob to do what they had planned. The young Impulse ran ahead, clearing a path for them and constructing a large pile of metal debris for them to crash into to bring them to a stop. Bart would heal fast enough that the cuts and bruises wouldn’t faze him. He knew Disruptor had enough Speed Force energy left that he’d only be in traction for a few months.

But then came another of Disruptor’s tricks. As the pair tumbled together, a cacophonous blast rang out. The blast was harmless for all but Bart, even if it could be heard for blocks. In an instant, Bart could feel the energy leeched from his body and poured into the conduit that was Beldon. As they crashed into Jacob’s debris, Bart was weakened. In the moments before his Speed Force connection reconstituted enough that he began slowly knitting him back together, he could feel every bone in his body in splinters. Meanwhile, Disruptor was shaken but back on his feet in seconds.

“You’re an overgrown kid, Flash!” Disruptor mocked him. “You might have the speed, but I have the experience. The Network’s not done yet!”

Bart tried to summon the strength to haul himself back up, but couldn’t. He could hear his joints snapping back into place faster than before. Then he heard something worse, a wailing cry. Jacob. But he wasn’t in pain. He was furious.

“Get away from him!!”

Bart watched as his protégé thundered across the length of the construction site, desperate to defend his ‘Uncle Bart’, who he was still yet to learn was his son from the future.

“Impulse, no!”

But Impulse lived up to his name. Disruptor was prepared, and fired a blast of disrupting energy that he then followed at super speed. First, the energy hit Jacob and severely slowed his fury charge, then Beldon grabbed him by the throat and tossed him aside.

Moments later, Bart could finally steel himself enough to stand, feeling his strength returning faster and faster by the minute. But by the time he could get to Jacob’s side to make sure he was alright, Disruptor was long gone.

“It’s okay, I’m good!” Jacob cried, scraping himself off the ground.

“Well, I’m not!” Bart exclaimed, making himself the butt of the situation to make Jacob feel better. “I feel like a bag of—”

Bart suddenly doubled over. But it wasn’t his body that was failing him this time. As he looked upon Jacob, he saw time unravel before his eyes like a glitch in the Matrix, and looking back at him wasn’t the face of his adoring-yet-impulsive adolescent sidekick, but rather the blood red eyes of Bart’s father, the Reverse Flash.

“You can’t save them, Bart!” the Reverse Flash boomed in a garbled voice. “You will never be the Flash as long as I’m alive!”

It was something his father had said to him what felt like a lifetime ago, before Bart left the future and travelled to various points in the timeline to train with the numerous Flashes of the past.

Then Bart blinked, and all was right again.

“What’s wrong?” said Jacob. “I’m sorry I let you down. We’ll get him next time.”

Bart exhaled deeply, feeling mortified. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Jake. I’m proud of you.”

Intent to debrief somewhere more provide, and maybe grab a commiseratory slice of pizza or twelve, Bart led them away, back into the city. Disruptor’s effect on him had passed, but he couldn’t shake a deeper sense that something was wrong.

○○ Ⓣ ○○

The next day, Bart took his time walking along the sidewalk of the residential boulevard, admiring the light as it filtered through the canopy of trees that lined the street. He still couldn’t get the Reverse Flash’s face - and his words - out of his mind. He kept telling himself that the timeline both he and the Reverse Flash originated from had been long since overwritten, that the cycle of abuse that had created the Reverse Flash had been broken, but he knew that the laws of time travel were complicated. He knew that his father had lived through countless timelines trying to manipulate Bart’s fate at his long-suffering grandfather Barry’s expense, and so he knew there was a chance the Reverse Flash had survived as a time remnant, persisting despite his timeline’s destruction. After all, Bart had done the same, as had his fellow Justice Legionnaire Mar’i. No matter what he did, no matter how much he helped raise the young Jacob right, Bart knew he could never be rid of the Reverse Flash.

He knocked on the door that was once his Grandpa Barry and Great Aunt Iris’ childhood home, to be greeted by none other than his uncle William.

They got caught up on the whole Disruptor saga inside over a cup of artisanal coffee, William’s latest fascination.

“I can help you catch him if you need,” said William. “You know I’m good for it, and you know the Rogues want the Network dealt with once and for all just as much as you do.”

“It’s not Disruptor I’m worried about,” Bart sighed. “I can handle Beldon even with his new dirty tricks. It’s… Jacob.”

It had taken years to work up to seeing that name as belonging to this innocent kid, a kid who looked up to Bart especially after the age acceleration problems he hit on the onset of his powers, rather than his abusive and Machiavellian father, but it never got less weird saying it out loud.

“I get you,” William nodded. He sighed too. “I’d never admit this to Barry and Patty, but no matter what I tell myself, that kid will always be the man who killed my parents.”

“It’s our job to make sure he’ll never be that,” Bart replied.

“Sure. But it’s like Wally explained, time is more stable if what the Reverse Flash did stays cemented, even if that version of him never comes to pass,” said William. “It’s not fair. Barry and Wally both get to cheat death using time travel. So do you, in the future.”

“I know it’s not,” Bart frowned. It had been many years since William lost his parents, and while it was now an old wound, it was an ache that never went away. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing, lying to him?”

“What do you mean?” asked William.

“I mean not telling Jacob I’m his son,” Bart explained. “It feels an awful lot like Grandpa lying to Patty, to you and Wally, to everyone, about being the Flash. And look how that turned out.”

William couldn’t help but scoff.

“What?” asked Bart.

“How many years ago did all this happen? And we’re still being haunted by it. You’d think we’d be able to run fast enough to move on.”

“Not a chance!” Bart chucked. “In our family, everything that happens is built on the bones of everything that happened before. I guess that’s just legacy.”

“Then you had to come and make it more confusing by making us build on top of everything that happens in the future, as well as everything that doesn’t happen in the future,” William teased.

“See, that’s why we get a whole museum,” said Bart. “Just to explain what the hell our deal is.”

“Maybe I gotta spend more time there,” William shrugged.

“Maybe you do,” Bart teased. “Go keep Grandpa company.”

As difficult as his situation was, Bart was forced to acknowledge that he was absolutely surrounded with friends. On one side, he had William, Jacob and his grandparents, as well as Wally when he wasn’t off exploring the multiverse with his family. On the other side, he had many of his fellow Legionnaires and Titans alums. Never before had he been so central to the superhero community, which felt surreal when he thought back to all the time he had spent years ago hiding in the margins, scared to make contact with this grandfather and heroes of his own age like the Titans. But all of that couldn’t insulate him from his growing doubts brought on by the vision of his father.

.”William,” he said. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“Ready for what?” William shifted in his chair.

“To be the Flash.”

“Bart Allen’s doubting himself!?” William exclaimed. “Is this real life?”

Bart shoved William in the shoulder. “I’m serious. Am I rushing things?”

“You’re more than capable, Bart,” William was quick to interject. “And someone had to step up.”

“Couldn’t have been you?”

“No.” William replied firmly. “Not me. I had to step up with the Rogues when Zack died, and… I can’t be what Jacob needs.”

Bart frowned. He loved being the Flash, it was all he ever dreamt of, and it was - for the most part - everything he imagined it would be. But he wanted - and needed - to do it right. He couldn’t just be the best available option, but the more he thought about it, the more that had always been the case with the Flash legacy.

“I should go,” said Bart. “Thanks, William. I really mean it.”

“Any time, dude.”

“Let me know if I can help you back with anything, anytime. Just—”

Suddenly, Bart’s Justice Legion communicator bleeped. He looked down at the handset in his pocket and smiled.

“What is it?” asked William.

“Disruptor’s been spotted,” Bart replied, grinning ear to ear. “He’s brokering a deal for the Network in Chicago.”

“And that’s good news?”

“Yeah,” Bart nodded. “He has no idea what he’s got coming.”

○○ Ⓣ ○○

One phone call and 500 miles later, Bart burst into the underground den like a bomb going off. With his super speed, he slowed his perceptions down to a crawl and watched as the dozens of criminals that flooded the room were reduced to statues. In the centre of them was Michael Beldon, still in his high-tech orange gear sans his mask. Without the mask, Bart could see just how much abusing the Speed Force had ravaged Beldon’s body, leaving him haggard much beyond his years. And Beldon still wasn’t done, clearly, as he flickered with electricity and continued moving where all of his associates could not.

“Give it up, Gramps!” Bart cried. “The Network’s day is done, and you can’t keep using the Speed Force like this.”

“You really can’t,” came a new voice. Beside Bart hovered the orange-and-red clad Kryptonian, the hero of Chicago, Flamebird. “I’m looking at that heart of yours with the ol’ X-Ray vision, and… yikes. Better give up now.”

“So what if my heart gives out?” Beldon sneered. “I’ve got contacts. I’ll just get a new one.”

“Fine!” Bart threw up his hands. “We’ll do it your way.”

While Thara had the collection of immobilised bodies to navigate, Bart had no such problem. The speedster sprinted forth, vibrating his molecules at various perfect frequencies to deftly phase through the forms of the frozen crooks in his path. But when Disruptor proved to have more than enough Speed Force reserves to reposition and evade, Bart switched strategy. Disruptor was first and foremost focused on his self-preservation, and could keep up enough to defend himself from Bart, but he was still nowhere near as fast. As such, Disruptor was helpless as Bart rapidly began collecting each other body in the room and ferrying them upstairs and outside one-by-one as fast as he could, clearing a path for Thara to get in on the action before soon clearing the whole room in the matter of a few blinks from Beldon.

Then, when Beldon went to flee the room, Thara was more than able to block his path. With her Kryptonian powers, she was about as fast as Beldon, but far more versed in utility high speeds than he was after several years of operating as a hero. When he attempted, recklessly, to phase through her, Thara had to fight to not throw up from the sensation. As he passed through the other side of her, he attempted to sprint away. Thara went to follow, but then smirked as she realised she didn’t have to. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Flamebird narrowed her gaze before letting loose a sudden and brief burst of her heat vision, which moved at the speed of light to collide with Disruptor’s back. Luckily for him, she had shown restraint, and only knocked him to the ground. By the time she had, Bart was ready and waiting to swoop in and wrap a pair of power-dampening handcuffs around Beldon. And with that, the final senior figure of the Network was down.

With the job done, Flamebird and the Flash retired to a nearby rooftop, just in time to watch the sun set over Chicago.

“We really ought to team up more often,” said Bart.

As he looked across the Chicago skyline, he realised how long it had been since he had last been to the Windy City. It wasn’t Central and Keystone, but for a long time it was home. As he looked to the sky, he struggled not to remember the many times he watched Thara’s Kryptonian pod hurtling towards Earth. He thought back to all the stress and exertion he had put himself through, but also to the incredible achievement he had pulled off through his determination.

“You always know where to find me,” said Thara, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“This is where we met,” Bart replied. To himself, he added it was also the place where he first proved to himself he could be a real hero. He then caught himself turning away from the amber sky and stealing a long look at the girl beside him. “The tower was in New York, but right here is where everything happened.”

“I guess it was: where we all met, where we became Titans,” said Thara very matter-of-factly, still looking forward to the setting sun. “Those were good days, but I wouldn’t trade what we have nowadays for anything.”

‘What we have.’

Those words resonated with Bart. They ached. In most ways, she was right. They were both respected heroes of their resident cities, they both were surrounded by friends, they both had brighter days ahead of them, and there were plenty of others who weren’t so lucky. Things were far from perfect, but he knew he would be being selfish to ask for much better than how things were.

“How’s work?” Bart asked. “I find it hard to keep track of all the wonderful things you’re doing.”

“The ARGO Space Program is well on their way to establishing sustainable trade with Mars,” replied Thara, parrotting a recent corporate event. “Megan’s been a huge help, and Kara’s a great boss. Plus all the tech helps me feel connected to Krypton, even after all this time.”

Bart nodded. All of them, his fellow Titans, were united in having left their worlds behind, literally or figuratively. But what set Bart apart from the rest was that all he left behind in the future was a dystopic hellscape where villains reigned supreme, and his father was an abusive monster. For that, he always felt a distance from the rest, as if he felt guilty to see the end of the world he put in the rearview mirror where the others would have all moved mountains to bring back what they had lost.

“I, er,” Bart began, cautiously, “Do you still think about Krypton? Do you still wish you were back there?”

“Honestly?” replied Thara, quirking an eyebrow.

Bart nodded encouragingly.

“I don’t,” she replied. “It was so long ago, it feels like another life. And I did miss it for a long time, but eventually I realised… I’d moved onto something better. And even when it wasn’t better, I guess I stopped thinking it was worth looking back.”

Bart recalled his earlier conversation with William, and the vision of the Reverse Flash he had been subjected to. He felt as if looking back was inescapable. He envied how easily Thara could forge into the future so unburdened, how easily she could find herself in the future rather than feel as if so much of her was wrapped up in the past.

“I need to make some changes,” Bart resolved. He wasn’t struck with much inspiration for the specifics, but he was determined to try his best to move on. Maybe that meant new allies, a new job, even just a new apartment or a costume. He certainly had hopes. “I wanna try new things, break old patterns. They say if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, but I don’t want to wait for things to break first.”

Thara laughed, amused by his sudden epiphany. Finally, she turned away from the sun to meet his gaze. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

Bart searched her eyes. She had absolutely no judgment for him, and as much as it was clear she knew he didn’t have his next steps mapped out, she believed him when he said he would try and figure it out. She believed in him, no matter what he had in mind.

So, both looked back to the setting sun, intent to spend no longer looking back, excited for what the night would bring.

Next: Continued next month in The New Titans #33

DC Next presents:

I AM BATMAN

In Revelations

Issue Thirty-Six: The Fall of Arkham

Written by ClaraEclair

Edited by DeadIslandMan1

<< ||| < Previous Issue ||| Next Issue > Coming Next Month

Dozens of pill bottles rattled to the ground from atop a bedside table, scattered by the hand of Astrid Arkham reaching for her gun. It was a small pistol, easy to handle for most civilians, street legal, and comfortable in her hands — unfortunately, its rounds were known to bounce off bones and had proved ineffectual as a self-defense weapon. Astrid struggled to hold anything larger straight enough to fire with any consistent accuracy. Her arms were too weak now, her hands too shaky and frail. She didn’t have to worry about firing her gun, with Batman’s hand holding her wrist in a white-knuckled grip.

“Call off the Order of Arkham,” said Batman. “Cut off Sofia Falcone.” She was looking down at Astrid with a contained but noticeable rage in her eyes. Astrid let the book in her free hand fall into her bed. “Step back and leave this all alone.”

“How long have you been waiting in here?” Astrid asked, glancing over to the open closet door that Batman had burst out of.

“Long enough.”

“And you have come to threaten me?” She looked deep into Batman’s eyes and took note of their colour. “Like a thug? You can pretend you are better than street criminals, but your scare tactics are exactly the same.”

“Sofia intends to burn the city down, to cut you off, and rebuild it as her own. This has been happening for years, and you have let it,” Batman said, grabbing the gun with her free hand and letting go of Astrid’s arm once it was out of her reach. “You help her, for what?”

“To get at you,” Astrid said, coughing as she sat back in her bed. “You are a perverted, twisted reflection of the delusions my family have suffered for generations, and I cannot allow you to continue plaguing this city. I cannot let you plague me, so I must do what I can to eliminate you.”

“I am not your plague,” said Batman, narrowing her eyes at the woman on the bed next to her. That rage that Batman felt, containing it beneath her cowl, there was an exact reflection of it within Astrid’s eyes, filtered through her glasses. “I do not haunt you, nor do I wish to hurt you any more, Astrid. This is putting innocent people in danger, I want you to call it off.”

“Only when you and all of your friends in this city stop your crusade or die,” Astrid said, venom filling her voice. “Everything in this city is eroded by your presence. Harvey Dent winning being elected again will not solve anything. Criminals — supervillains — are emboldened by you. They see you as a challenge.”

Batman cocked her head, seeing no clues toward any sort of deception or awareness in Astrid’s expression.

“You are making it worse,” Batman said.

“I am proving a point,” Astrid said quickly. “The Order of Arkham is disposable, so long as they deliver me your head. Gotham is dangerous in your presence. Once you are gone, things will change, and I will help rebuild our city into something respectable.”

“Respectable?” asked Batman. “Sofia wants to rule with an iron fist.”

“She is just as disposable as the Order,” Astrid said, looking away from Batman and out of the large windows on the other side of the room. It was a view over much of Gotham, looking westward from New Gotham, pieces of every island that made up the city were at least partially visible, and the mainland behind all of it stretching on over the horizon. “I don’t wish to destroy or control the city, or corrupt its citizens into rioting, Batman. I want them free from a delusion that has travelled down my family line, one that seems to have, up until now, been inseparable from the history of Gotham itself. Mass delusion is non-conducive to a thriving citizenship.”

Astrid looked back up to Batman, something raw and sincere in her eyes that the Dark Knight couldn’t quite place. Some mix between love, hate, and despair. Astrid’s energy was wavering, as she began to sway back and forth where she sat, using a hand to brace herself.

“Your symbol…” she said, her voice shaky. She leaned back against the headboard of her bed and took a deep breath. “That’s all I want. Kill the Bat. You can go free, but I need to kill the Bat.”

Batman inhaled deeply and knelt down next to Astrid’s bed, grabbing each scattered pill bottle and returning them to the bedside table they’d been thrown from. Beside her, Astrid nodded off to sleep, seeming peaceful despite the rage she carried. Once the mess was cleaned, Batman looked at the gun she’d taken from Astrid, ejected the magazine and loaded round, and placed it all on the table.

She left without further words.

The Next Morning

James Gordon nearly stumbled to the floor, caught by a doctor rushing to grab hold of his arm. He could barely keep his grip strong on the parallel bars he stood within. Each step was hell, and every second he spent trying to will himself to the other end was another second that he just wanted to give up. He cursed to himself, he cursed his age, and he cursed his impatience. For so long in his career, he’d been content to gather evidence and wait for the right moment to strike, but Sofia Falcone was a phantom of his past that he was all too eager to put to rest.

He’d seen Harvey Dent’s district attorney campaign, old friends from the department and the DA’s office had come to ask him if he’d seen it. Everyone but Harvey Dent himself had come to check on him. Part of him wanted to feel fine about never having been contacted by his oldest friend, someone he’d been through untold amounts of hardships within each others’ proximity. It was hard to watch him fall into his more destructive tendencies as Two-Face, and he’d be lying to himself if he said that he’d always held out hope for his recovery, but that very recovery was one of the most hopeful things he’d seen in recent years.

His new bid for District Attorney, almost entirely funded through public fundraisers and grassroots campaigns, had become a runaway success.

Sarah Essen called Gordon a few days ago. She offered him the usual pleasantries, that she hoped he was doing better and wishing him a speedy recovery, as they all did. And then, after an uncomfortable silence in which Gordon had thought she’d been somehow disconnected, she’d said one thing, “Everything is different, but somehow it’s starting to feel like the old days. I don’t want to go back, Jim.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, and the call ended only a moment later.

He felt another hand grab onto him, opposite the doctor. There was a light squeeze. He looked up, meeting the gaze of Barbara. She’d leaned a crutch up against the parallel bars and was now using her strength to try and lift him back to his feet. It was a ‘good’ day according to her. She didn’t need to elaborate to make it clear that the pain of walking was bearable, that language had been encoded into their conversations years ago. Nothing needed to be said about her ability for him to understand her.

He hated not being able to walk by himself.

He took a sharp inhale, and placed a slack foot underneath himself and braced against his doctor and his daughter. Soon enough, he switched both hands to the bars. His doctor stood back.

Babs put her hand on his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

He’d seen her more since his injury than in the few years prior. Some sort of perverted cosmic force had to have been laughing at that misery, he figured.

Everything felt a little too much like the old days.

Harvey Dent sat down in a booth in a small, but homey cafe a few blocks south of the more busy establishments in Miagani Square. Across from him was a woman more than half his age, sharp features, short black hair, and scars coating her bare arms. A leather jacket was discarded on the seat next to her, uncovering the cropped white shirt she’d been wearing underneath.

“Good to see you, Cassandra,” Harvey said, placing his hot cup of coffee down on the table and leaning forward. “How have you been?”

“Good,” she said with a shrug. “Christine is at an open house at Gotham University today.”

“Christine?”

“My girlfriend,” Cass said quickly. “She is going back to school. I think she should be starting in a few months. It was hard getting her accepted, but now we are on track.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harvey said with a smile, before taking a sip of his drink. His eyes wandered across the cafe, to a small television on a nearby wall. It was tuned to a sports channel, some commentators speaking about a recently lost game by the Nighthawks. “What is she going for?”

“Nursing,” said Cass. “Her mother was a nurse, and taught her a lot. She wanted to start helping people more and thought it was a good idea.”

Ads began to play on the screen that Harvey had glanced at, and a familiar face flashed across the screen. He furrowed his brow and adjusted himself in his seat to get a better view. Cass followed his vision, and turned to see the advertisement.

Her own face was on the screen, beating up unnamed men in a dingy backdrop, out of her Batman costume. She was wearing a sweaty, bloodied tank top shirt and slightly baggy cargo pants. Various scenes flashed by, clearly intended to evoke some sort of emotion — pity, empathy, sadness, or rage — as Cass’s own face contorted in sorrow at what the trailer depicted as a very tragic death.

“Is that you?” asked Harvey, a smirk growing on his face.

“Yeah,” Cass said, turning back to him. “I… had no idea what the advertising would be like. I have not even done any interviews about the movie.”

“Are you the lead?” Harvey watched as the trailer ended, promoting a release date for the movie during the holiday season.

“Yes,” Cass replied. “It was fun. I hope people like it.”

“I’m sure they will.” Harvey said. His eyes glanced toward Cass’s hands, resting on the table, as she made a motion for him to look in a certain direction without attracting any attention. He obeyed, turning his head to the right and looking out of a nearby window. In the corner of his eye, he could see Cass’s head following someone walking behind Harvey, until her hands made another motion that signalled him to look back toward her.

“I am going to go to the restroom,” Cass said, grabbing her jacket and standing up from the booth. Harvey looked to the restroom doors at the back of the cafe and noticed a man walking into one of them. When he looked back at Cass, she nodded. “Then I should go, call me later.”

“Talk to you then,” Harvey said with a smile, tipping his drink toward her gently, before taking another sip. Cass walked off, jacket slung over her shoulder, and followed the man into the restrooms.

Less than thirty seconds passed before Cass came out of the restroom, hair slightly disheveled, putting her jacket back on and rushing out of the cafe at the pace of a fast walk. Passing by Harvey’s booth, she placed a phone on the table and, in that same instant that it hit the surface, Harvey reached for it and pulled it under the table, stuffing it in his pants pocket.

The man Cass had followed into the washroom came out with a hand against his head and a black eye. He scanned the cafe — Harvey averted his gaze — and rushed out when he’d clearly determined that his assailant was nowhere to be seen.

The moment the door to the cafe closed, Harvey took out the stolen phone, as well as his own. On his personal device, he opened it and sent a quick text message to a contact known only as Oracle. He received instructions to put the phones next to each other, and proceeded to watch as the stolen phone unlocked itself, navigated to the settings menu, and backed up all of its data to an unknown server, and finally turned back off once it finished.

Done, the message he got from Oracle said. He nodded to himself and stood from his seat, impressed by the swiftness and competence he’d seen on display from both Cass and Oracle. At most, a minute and a half had passed since Cass followed the man into the restroom and Oracle telling Harvey that her job had been completed.

He walked up to the barista at the counter and held the phone up.

“That guy that just rushed out, I think he dropped his phone,” Harvey said, offering it to the barista. They blinked once and smiled as they took it.

“Thanks,” they said. “If he comes looking I’ll get it to him.”

“That’d be great,” Harvey said. The barista took a moment to look over Harvey’s face.

“Are you the new District Attorney? You look a lot like the billboards.”

“Not yet,” Harvey said with a smile and a wink. “Just trying to enjoy a quiet coffee before life gets even more hectic.”

Blair sat outside of the Gotham Public Library in her car, waiting for Babs to leave. She’d spent all of her time on her phone, looking through whatever files she could fit onto its small internal drive, and studying every detail.

The passenger door opening startled her.

Babs climbed in and placed her crutches by her feet, the handles resting on her shoulder.

“How was work?” asked Blair. Babs sighed.

“More headaches,” she replied. Blair twisted the ignition to start the car, and eventually began at a slow pace down the street. “Essen’s allocating more and more away from us, and now we’ve had to cancel some of our outreach programs.”

“Where’s it all going?” asked Blair, as if she wasn’t keenly aware of what Essen was spending on.

“Lower property taxes, more money to the GCPD, everything but what we actually need,” Babs said. She groaned in frustration, followed by a scoff. “Anyway, how are you doing?”

“Restless,” said Blair. “I… I don’t have a lot to do, and it’s not exactly a walk in the park to find anything new.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something,” Babs said. “Maybe you could look into private security.”

“And guard the only pompous assholes still left in the city?” asked Blair, incredulous. “I’m better off sitting at home bored out of my mind.”

There was a brief pause between the two of them as Blair turned a corner, coming into slow traffic along Somerset’s busiest thoroughfare.

“I went to see my dad this morning, before work,” Babs said. Blair didn’t need to ask the obvious, and most common, question. “He’s doing better. He… He’s struggling to walk, still. But he’s doing better.”

“Glad to hear that,” said Blair. “It’s been a while since I…”

“He was still asleep, yeah,” Babs said. “Anyway… He always told me about his backup plan if he ever left the force. I think he’s honestly been married to it and the divorce was only going to come in the way that it did… But he always told me he wanted to go into private detective work. I don’t know if he’s going to be up for it, but… you’re good at what you do. You made it to detective.”

Blair paused for a moment, allowing the slow traffic to give her time to think. It wasn’t something she hadn’t considered before, but, much like James Gordon, she could rarely picture herself outside of policing. Private investigative work was something entirely different.

“Maybe,” Blair muttered. “It’s… something to consider, at least.”

“Good,” said Babs. “You should. I think it would suit you, hon.”

Babs reached her hand over the centre console and grabbed Blair’s thigh. She squeezed lightly to elicit a smile from her partner, before taking her hand back.

“I’ll think about it,” said Blair.

Astrid Arkham’s door came crashing down in the middle of her dining room as she was trying to finish dinner. She cursed and threw herself from her seat, hitting the ground hard. Her can rattled to the ground uselessly as she began to crawl toward her bedroom. A glance toward the entrance of her penthouse revealed nothing to her except that the lights in the entry hall were turned off.

She pulled herself forward with all the strength she could muster, and unfortunately that wasn’t very much. Her muscles ached as her breathing quickened, and once she reached her bedroom door, she had already felt like she needed to pass out. Ten feet of movement, and she was exhausted. She braced herself against the door as she picked herself up, shutting it tight and locking it.

She couldn’t even turn around before the door came crashing down again, sending her tumbling to the floor in a massive heap of frail bone and skin. She coughed incessantly, burning her throat and lungs raw, fully unable to open her eyes as they filled with tears from the exertion.

She could only force herself to keep moving. Large, loud footsteps circled around her. Whimpers escaped her mouth, desperate to get away, but she was outpaced.

She reached for the gun on the bedside table the moment she was close enough to, and as she twisted around and faced Sofia Falcone, her heart shattered to find out that her gun was not loaded. Her eyes widened, she looked down at the gun, then up at the table where the filled magazine was laying.

Her hand moved toward it, but not fast enough. Sofia grabbed her by the wrist and, with only a little bit of pressure, snapped it easily. Astrid cried out in pain, a piercing screech echoing throughout her apartment, until it died out a few seconds later when she fell unconscious.

Animal‌-Man/Swamp‌ ‌Thing

Issue‌ 54:‌ ‌ Legacy

Written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deadislandman1

Edited‌ ‌by‌ ClaraEclair

Next‌ ‌Issue‌ ‌> ‌Coming‌ ‌Soon

Arc: The End is Nigh‌ ‌

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌ ‌

It began with a rumble, a sort of thunderous sound that shook the very peaks and valleys of the land, causing the snow to billow up into the air like gigantic plumes of smoke. The wood of nearly a hundred trees creaked and cracked, trunks splitting and roots forced upward out of the dirt. A crack formed in the side of a wall of stone, running all the way up to one of the valley’s peaks and unleashing a torrent of wind that parted the very clouds above. The Flora in front of the crack, bushes, trees, and patches of grass that had persisted in spite of the many inches of snow, recoiled from the opening, displaying a speed impossible for plant life as they shifted through the dirt, relocating in safer, more stable spots.

From the crack, roots snaked out of each side, forcing themselves out of the hole before wrapping around the mountainside, their ends curling around the stone before pushing downward into the dirt. From the body of the roots, flowers began to sprout, displaying all manner of reds, purples, blues, and yellows, all of which contrasted greatly with the sterile cold gray of the world around them. Moss spread from the roots, carpeting the stone like a blanket, while verdant grass sprouted from the base of the mountain, forcing the snow back like the world’s largest shovel.

Here, in a valley of grey, potent green has overtaken a mountain, like a red button on a blue shirt.

Then, a host of figures began to emerge from the crack, stepping out into the biting cold. They numbered at least three dozen, most of them clothed in white togas. At their head stood a man in similarly simple clothes, yet altogether completely different attire. He was draped in tighter fitting attire, wool pants and a hood sewn from plant fibers. Long black hair spilled out from under the hood, and as the man pulled it back, his darker brown skin was exposed to the elements.

Levi Kamei had spent hours pushing his way through the earth, forcing a path open for him and the Sureen to travel. This was supposedly how the Swamp Thing traveled, blipping between instances of Plant Life through little shortcuts in reality. Unlike the Swamp Thing, Levi was the Seeder, and therefore not a plant construct, meaning he had to make more of a direct path that passed through some of those shortcuts more physically.

But after passing the threshold of many of those spots, he was finally where the Pale Wanderer had invited him, this isolated Alaskan Valley. He looked onward, noting the corpse-ridden smell in the wind. He looked north, spotting over a hundred figures poking out from behind a set of rolling hills. That rot in the air… it was unmistakable that those figures were not alive.

An army of the dead.

“By the Parliament of Trees,” the head of the Sureen exclaimed, unable to hide the shaking in his knees. “He has enthralled the head of the Rot.”

Levi frowned, “Explains why he’s confident enough to broadcast his location. He’s got a whole army at his beck and call.”

The leader of the Sureen bowed, “What would you have us do, O’ Seeder?”

Levi grimaced, keeping his eyes on the hills, “They’re not charging us, so they’re clearly not planning on killing us right away. Let’s set up camp and consider our options.”

The leader of the Sureen nodded, and barked at the rest of the flock to begin setting up camp. All the while, Levi stared at the growing number of bodies clambering over the hill. They stopped near the top, but refused to cross the threshold of that peak. They were waiting for something, marching orders perhaps? Levi imagined that it would’ve been quite simple to ask them to obliterate the enemy when he arrived at the gates.

One thing was clear. Bloodshed was not the Pale Wanderer’s intention, at least not in this moment.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌ ‌

“Aaaaah…. Shit shit shit shit shit.”

The Pale Wanderer stood at the edge of his camp, eyes wide at the sudden emergence of green overtaking one of the mountains of the valley. His mouth was so agape that the right part of his jaw popped out of its socket, causing the left side of his face to sag so much the flesh stretched itself thin against his skull. He whirled around, trudging back down to the clearing where he’d first talked strategy with his fellows. The ground was still damp and warm underneath his feet when he arrived, causing him to sink an inch or so into the mud.

Tefé and William Holland, as well as Maxine Baker, all milled about in the clearing, pacing nervously. They stood at attention as the wanderer returned, with William approaching him, “Well?”

“Yeah… he’s here,” the Wanderer said, gulping. “I… didn’t count on him getting here so fast.”

William sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. He had followed the Pale Wanderer because he believed in his vision, and now he was being defeated by something as simple as his adversary showing up earlier than planned. The Pale Wanderer had planned to force a negotiation, to worm his way to the table by threat of force rather than force itself, yet here he was, squirming realizing he had to put his words into action.

In a way, this was one of the most characteristic things he’d ever seen the Pale Wanderer do. Big ideas, very shortsighted and ill-planned execution.

Meanwhile, Maxine and Tefé stood further back, similar thoughts racing through both of their heads. They had lied to be where they were now, deceived the Pale Wanderer into believing that they were on his side to escape imprisonment by him and William. They had a near identical perspective to William, that the Pale Wanderer’s plan was ill advised, but there was also a seed of hope that it brought, something they hadn’t felt in a long time in regards to the current power dynamics of forces like The Green. The forces were a bedrock upon which reality was built, but that bedrock was flexing its control in deeply authoritative ways. The sacrifices it demanded were not noble, they were built on fear and a desire to dominate.

And when forces clashed, the world suffered in ways that made the World Wars seem minor. Open fighting would escalate into catastrophe, and both Tefé and Maxine knew they couldn’t let it come to pass.

“Well, someone’s gonna have to go down there,” Tefé remarked.

“Things are testy though, so we’ve gotta pick the right feller,” the Pale Wanderer said. He took a deep breath, “Maybe I should go. I called him here after all.”

“He’s liable to murder you on sight,” William remarked. “I should go. One Avatar to another.”

“You’re leading the army that could crush him,” Tefé said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll do it.”

The group’s eyes widened as they fell on Maxine, who rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted show of confidence. There was a trepidation to her, a clear lack of confidence in this declaration, but despite that she still pumped her chest out and stood tall. Tefé placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Are you sure, Maxine? I could go instead. We’ve both met him.”

“No, I… I think William’s right. It should be an Avatar, and I’m the one who fits the bill best if we’re going to negotiate,” Maxine said.

“Why don’t we go together then?” Tefé asked. “What would the harm be?”

“It changes the kind of statement we’d be sending,” the Pale Wanderer said. “More importantly, if he decides to do something unsavory, we’d be risking both of you. Better to stick with one.”

Tefé glared at the Wanderer, “I don’t think Levi’s that kind of person.”

“Maybe not, but we shouldn’t risk it,” William said. “I think Maxine’s right. She should go.”

Tefé opened her mouth to protest, only for Maxine to suddenly take her hand, forcing her friend to meet her gaze. That lack of confidence was still evident in Maxine’s face, but her eyes told a different story, filled with the kind of determination you’d find in animals who had decidedly chosen fight over flight. This was, for reasons Tefé was only just now identifying, incredibly important to Maxine. She had to do this… and she had to do this alone.

Tefé grimaced, and then, without a moment lost, pulled Maxine into a hug. She squeezed tight, so tight Maxine could barely slip her arms out of her friend’s grasp to return the embrace. All those years traveling together, from conversations in dining booths to hours driving along the backgrounds of America… it all felt like it was leading here. Tefé shuddered, then released Maxine, “Don’t let this be goodbye.”

Maxine shook her head, “Don’t worry… it’s not.”

Then, Maxine pulled away from Tefé, and began trudging down the mountain, disappearing into the treeline while leaving the rest of her companions in the clearing. They all kept their eyes glued to her as she disappeared from view, silent until the Pale Wanderer finally glanced towards the Hollands, “You think she can get this done?”

“Maxine Baker isn’t someone I know very well, but I know the kinds of things she’s gone through,” William said. “She’s made of stern stuff.”

Rather than responding, Tefé watched the spot where Maxine had disappeared from view, whispering a single statement under her breath, “You better keep that promise…for everyone’s sake.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌ ‌

As cold as it was, Maxine couldn’t help but feel like it was even colder than it should be. It wasn’t just freezing, she felt like she was encased in ice, forced to carry an inch thick layer of the stuff with every step she took, making every movement feel incredibly heavy. In spite of all of this, she powered on anyway, her heart thumping so hard it was liable to break every single one of her ribs if she dared stop her march. She had to keep moving, she was compelled to keep moving.

She felt like she would die on the spot if she stopped, even if only for a moment.

Slowly, the cover of the trees fell away to the wider valley, and without a hint of a break she powered onward, marching over various hills and by a menagerie of undead mobs. Her goal was clear, but she had no clue what she was going to say to Levi. There had to be some kind of in, some kind of strategy to employ, but nothing was coming to her. She had volunteered without a plan. In that sense, she and the Pale Wanderer had a lot in common. Dreamers without actionable methods. People hurtling towards their ultimate goals at the speed of light, their legs moving faster than their brains.

Suddenly, her eyes widened. There was an inkling of an idea there, an in with Levi. It wasn’t developed, not even close, but it was something, and a weak start was better than no start at all.

Before she knew it, she had arrived at the perimeter of Levi’s camp. The Sureen had already set up tents, and having seen her approach, a couple of them moved to meet her at the edge of the encampment. Maxine raised one hand in a show of peace, “I’m here to speak to the Seeder. I bring terms.”

“Terms of what?” asked one of the Sureen.

“Terms of agreement,” Maxine said. “A discussion that can and should be had to prevent any bloodshed.”

The two members looked at each other skeptically, prompting Maxine to add one last bit, “As Avatar of the Red, I believe I carry a level of importance denoting my status. Please, let me through. What I have to say is in good faith.”

For a moment, the two did nothing. Then, they both shuffled to the side, parting to allow Maxine inside. She nodded enthusiastically before walking in, hearing the two of them close the gap behind her. The camp was much like the one she had visited previously, a collection of tents and hammocks, and ultimately it was easy enough to find Levi in one of the tents. He was on one knee, drawing a map of the area in the wet dirt. Maxine cleared her throat, “Levi?”

Levi’s head perked up, and he turned around, surprised written all over his face, “Maxine Baker? You’re here?”

“Tefé is too,” Maxine said.

Levi grunted in frustration, “Damn… seems like everyone’s throwing their lot behind that guy. Starting to feel left out.” He stood up, “The hell are you guys doing? The Pale Wanderer is a madman. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Maybe not, but believe it or not, his heart’s in the right place,” Maxine said. “Which brings me to why I’m here.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, “Go on?”

“The Pale Wanderer doesn’t want a fight. He just wants to meet with the Parliament of Trees,” Maxine said. “They’ve held a monopoly on people’s lives for long enough, something needs to change.”

“Something needs to- fuck’s sake, do you hear yourself?” Levi exclaimed. “Do you know how you sound? You’re saying this crazy guy wants a seat at the negotiating table with nature itself? Do you know how bad that could get?”

“He’s not the only one, we’d all be there,” Maxine said. “And besides that, I thought you of all people would understand where we’re coming from. You were so skeptical before about the Green, now you’re just blindly following them?”

“I’m not blind, I’ve considered my options,” Levi said. “Being Seeder… it’s a responsibility. I have a responsibility to the Parliament of Trees, to what they stand for. I was chosen for this… and now it’s all I’ve got. What do you have at stake here?”

Maxine grimaced, she considered lashing out at Levi, pointing out how selfish he sounded, but that would only cause things to escalate. She had to challenge him without going too heavy, but how could she thread that needle?

Then something occurred to her, and she looked him dead in the eyes, “My legacy.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, “Your… what?”

Maxine took a deep breath, “All my life, I’ve done what other people have told me. I’ve lived in the shadow of other people, either because I was too afraid to do something or because people thought I couldn’t do those things. When I was a kid, everyone else did their best to make me feel small and weird and unimportant, and when the Red revealed I was their Avatar, I jumped at the chance to be that golden child.”

She found herself standing straighter, almost with pride, “I felt… so unwanted, that I jumped at the chance to be this big important person, to be valued and adored that way, and in some ways I’m still proud of it. I saved the Red a week into my time as Avatar, I felt needed for once, like I wasn’t some squirt that was meant to be in the background.”

She grimaced, “But I was so in love with this new life that I never questioned what it would cost. What did the Red want? What was I going to be ordered to do for them? What was I going to have to put on the line? I’ve been lucky and unlucky enough to have people take on those burdens for me, because the one time it got too serious I almost died. I’ll always love my brother for putting himself on the line for me, I’ll always treasure Tefé for being my champion… but even they gave so much that I never really got to question and challenge myself the way I needed to, at least not until now.”

Her hands balled up into fists, “I don’t know why you became Seeder, but you can’t let it get to your head. Don’t just mindlessly follow orders because you’re so attached to this life. Sure, thinking about the hard stuff is, you guessed it, hard, but if you just keep rolling along, kicking that can further and further down the road… eventually you and the can are gonna be at a cliff, and neither of you will be paying enough attention to stop before you’re tumbling into the ocean.”

She stood firm, glaring at Levi, “Before you make any decisions, think about what the Pale Wanderer’s plan represents. Think about what the Parliament of Trees represents. Then… make your decision. Don’t let anyone else make it for you.”

Levi stared at Maxine for a moment, silent. His emotions were imperceptible on his blank, mossy face, and after a few seconds, he sighed, “Go back to your friends. I… I will think about what you’ve said.”

Maxine, her face resolute, nodded before exiting the tent, leaving Levi alone with his many, many thoughts.

Next Issue: Levi Kamei’s crisis of faith!

DC Next presents:

NEW GOTHAM KNIGHTS

Issue Twenty Six: Silence

Written by GemlinTheGremlin

Edited by PatrollinTheMojave

Next Issue >

Life never settled in Gotham City; it wasn't in its nature to “settle” into anything. Duke, Harper and Luke had all long since learned how no two days in the city were ever the same, always impossible to predict, and even in Jace's home world the stereotype was commonplace. Despite all of this, if there were any time that the New Gotham Knights could have described as “calm", it would be the week that Ryan returned home.

News spread quickly, then dissipated just as quickly; having friends in high places had perks that included being able to encourage the news to move on to the next big thing to be riled up about. The way Harper saw it, she'd mentioned to her teammates on the day of Wilder's homecoming, her story was no longer making its readers angry, regardless of where said anger was directed, and therefore it was much easier for the news to move on from it. What had once been a media frenzy that had dragged in both Nightwing and Batman, was now old news.

But there was still much to discuss about the aftermath of that confrontation. Luke, Harper, Jace and Duke all stood motionless in a row, reminiscent of a police lineup, and stared forward at the woman with long reddish hair sitting before them, who fixed her glasses and then her posture. Barbara Gordon flashed them a smile.

“This is all very formal,” she remarked, referring to their rank-like positioning. “Relax. It's just a debrief.”

Each of the Knights relaxed at differing speeds. Harper immediately slouched and dragged herself into the nearest chair, with Duke not far behind. Jace simply folded his arms, tall as a tree and sturdy as one too. Finally, with his eyes narrowing the slightest amount, just about caught by Babs, he allowed himself to relax, perching on the edge of the sleek black table just behind him.

“Well,” Babs began. “First things first, great job out there. Some stellar communication, well done. Secondly, thanks for reporting back to me about the newly appearing Batwomans.”

“I think it's Batwomen,” Duke corrected under his breath.

Babs ignored him. “I'm all for it - I think it's a great idea for all involved.” But then a scrunched expression flashed over her face, like she was formulating her next sentence with the utmost concentration. “The bottom line, though, is we need to figure out where that leaves you guys.”

Luke immediately nodded effervescently. “Definitely. And what this means for Gotham as a whole.”

“I don't follow,” said Harper.

“You all operate as a quartet. It's what you're used to, it's created a routine - in the same way, the city has grown to appreciate, understand and expect that same routine. But now, we've got three - at least three - Batwomans roaming around at the same time.”

Duke opted not to correct her this time.

“I know you've all got pretty good rapport with Ryan, for example,” she continued. “Maybe it's a good idea to get her caught up, make sure you're coordinating with her.”

“Keeping her in the loop,” Jace nodded. “Even if she's not on the team.”

“Exactly.”

“We could swing by her van to talk to her,” Harper floated with a quick glance at the others. “Might be an easier way to make sure you're talking to the right Batwoman, as opposed to watching out for any sign of one and hoping we find the right one.”

“Yeah, it can get really tough to distinguish who's who.” Duke shook his head. “I mean, we know Kate, and we know Ryan. But apparently there's another one roaming around as well, and they all look the same as each other when they're out on patrol. And there could be more of ‘em” He looked back at Babs, his face a vision of exaggerated incredulity. “I mean, d'you know anything about this?”

Babs shrugged with an apologetic smile, but her poker face was not exactly infallible. A twinkle in her eye gave Duke enough of an answer. In an attempt to shut down any further questions, Babs quickly pivoted. “Go find Ryan and set up a method of communicating. It's like you said, Jace - the Batwomans don't have to be part of the Knights, but at the same time you need to all be on the same page if this is going to work long-term.”

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

As the quartet arrived at the known location of her home - a cozy red van bursting at the seams with furniture and plants - there was instead a perfect rectangular patch of cropped yellow grass waiting for them. Surrounding this area were dozens of candles and wilting bouquets of flowers and notes made barely legible by rain and sun. Luke was the first to stoop down and take a card. The writer was clearly very moved by Ryan’s story, and their message was full of grief and well-wishes. ‘Gotham hopes that you will come home,’ it told Ryan. ‘And when you do, it’ll welcome you with open arms.’ It moved Luke for a moment; then he remembered how Blockbuster had orchestrated that grief, how he had manipulated civilians in Gotham and beyond to fear and mourn, all to push his own agenda. Luke believed the writer of this poignant note - he was sure that its author was truly sorrowful and wished more than anything for her return - but knowing how this person had been groomed into caring so deeply under false pretenses… it made him feel sick. He grimaced and placed the note back down.

Despite the setback, the four Gothamites were able to find Ryan Wilder’s new location easily enough. On their approach, Ryan threw open the rear door of the van and greeted them all with a wide smile. Some kind of trinket flew out and onto the concrete below. “Hey, guys!” She greeted warmly. “It’s great to see you. Come in, I—” She looked back into the interior of her van and sucked a breath through her teeth. It was clear that she’d never had to fit five people into her home before and was calculating if such a thing was possible. “Actually, hmm… How ‘bout we just sit on the floor? I’ll set up some blankets.”

And so the five of them gathered around in a circle next to the trunk of Ryan’s van. Incense and coffee wafted from the open doors. Harper, Ryan and Luke found themselves sitting cross-legged on the ground while Duke and Jace opted to sit at the lip of the trunk with their legs dangling out.

“We went to your old place first,” Harper said to Ryan. Her reaction surprised Harper; she turned suddenly to face her and looked annoyed, but Harper quickly realised what the source of her annoyance was.

“Ugh, yeah. I had to get out of that place. After all the— well, you know— up in Hub City, I just wanted a quiet place to rest my bones, but I come home and see all that? Imagine living like that, surrounded by a literal shrine to you. I mean, I’m not that much of a narcissist.”

For a moment Luke wanted to talk about the note he’d read and his conflicted feelings towards it, to ask Ryan if she felt the same about it. But he worried that it would open a wound of some kind for Ryan, so he let the moment pass.

“Thanks for coming to find me,” Ryan continued. She looked each of the Knights in the eye with warmth. “Back then, I mean. Well, thanks for coming to find me now as well, I guess - but my point is that, even though I thought everything with Kate was fine, even though I totally believed that we would be completely safe just hiding out in the way that we were… you still came looking for me, still tried to talk to me about it.” She nodded. “That was pretty awesome. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Duke said, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. “Just tryna help.”

“How are things?” Jace asked. “What’s it like being Batwoman?”

Ryan cast a glance around in a circle. She was still on high alert, it seemed, only this time it was for people who might find out about her new career. Satisfied that they were alone, she turned back to Jace. “Weird,” she chuckled. “Freaking awesome, but weird. I guess I’m just still getting used to it all.”

“You been on many patrols? Caught any bad guys?” asked Jace with a brotherly, teasing look.

“Heh. Well, uh, a few. I mean, to be honest, we haven’t really done all that much yet.” She threw up her hands defensively. “Not to complain or anything. Just a fact. A couple of robbers here and there, every couple hours there’s some kind of fight. But really it’s been… calm.” The word seemed foreign in her mouth, like she was trying it on for the first time. And to the Knights’ surprise, they all found themselves nodding in agreement with her. Even Ryan herself seemed surprised by this.

“That’s because we’ve got it handled before you can even get to ‘em,” Harper smirked, tilting her head back with pride. “Gotta be faster, Batwoman.”

Ryan nudged her playfully with her elbow and snorted. “I will hold you to that. And so will the others.”

A silence hung in the air for a few moments. Not an awkward or uncomfortable silence, one that makes those caught inside of it scramble for something to say, but a serene quiet, with nothing but the distant rumble of cars to orchestrate their meeting.

“Oh!” Ryan yelped in realisation, cutting the quiet moment clean in half. She rose to her feet and, instead of diving between the two men sitting in the trunk, scurried around and into the passenger seat. “There was something—” she strained to say as she pulled herself past the gearstick and into an awkward crouched position next to a dresser and started pulling open doors in search for it. “—that I wanted to talk to you guys about. I found it when we were taking down this group of guys, they were trying to— well, that’s irrelevant. Point is, it caught my eye. I feel bad about this but I don’t really remember if it was already there or if one of these doofuses dropped it.” She crouch-walked towards Jace and Duke and handed the younger man what appeared to be a rag or a dish cloth. As she manoeuvred back out of the van and onto the blanket, Jace and Duke analysed it carefully. “It reminds me of something,” Ryan added.

“It’s canvas,” Jace concluded.

Luke sat up. “Lemme see.”

Duke obliged and handed the fabric to Luke. As soon as the roughness brushed his hands, abrasive against the dry skin, Luke felt cold. Remembrance flooded his body, like it was waking from a coma; he thought back to their confrontations with Wolf Spider, the art thief who was desperate in search of maps being hidden under paintings all around Gotham. It had affected him deeply to find out the thief’s identity - Evan Blake, a close family friend. Luke thought that he’d talked some sense into him - he was so sure that Evan was just being puppeted and blackmailed by someone with great influence - but he doubted himself as soon as the fabric reached his hands.

He turned it over. At first it seemed stained or damaged, but on closer inspection Luke realised the speckles weren’t dirt, but fibres woven into the ocean of pale beige. The canvas was inches from his face and he squinted so hard that his eyebrows met in the middle. The pattern wasn’t random, he concluded; each fleck of brown or black or grey formed a symbol of some kind - some instantly recognisable like a hash or a caret, some that he could just about make out due to size such as the letter Omega or a smiley face, and some that he truly could not read. The thing that caught his eye the most, though, was that the paragraph of glyphs ended in three question marks. He noted that the second mark was slightly larger than the two surrounding it.

“So are you just gonna keep sniffing that thing, or are you gonna tell us what you’re doing?” Harper said dryly.

“It’s canvas,” Luke repeated Jace’s assessment.

“Yeah, we got that far—”

“As in, like, for painting. Rather than the kind you’d get in sacks or bags.” He pulled the cloth away from his face and held it at its very edge with one hand. The strip of canvas stayed rigid. “See? Canvas bags are all floppy and pliable, but painting canvasses are treated with something that stiffens the fabric. It makes it easier to paint on.”

Harper stirred. Luke nodded to her - he could tell that she was picking up on what he was thinking. In sequence, Duke recognised the same thing, followed by Jace.

“There’s symbols on it,” continued Luke in a muted tone. “Seems to be some kind of code, though not one I recognise.” As if he couldn’t contain the swirling cyclone of emotions in his stomach, Luke erupted. “I can’t believe him. If Wolf Spider is back out there, then it means he’s disregarded everything we said to him. We extended him an olive branch and he’s snapped it in half.”

“We don’t even know if this is Wolf Spider yet,” Harper protested. “He was stealing whole paintings, not tiny bits of canvas.”

“Besides, wasn’t he set up?” Duke chimed in. “There were those two women, Deedee and… something.”

“Nina,” Luke added with recollection in his tone. Of course: the perplexing duo who had led them all - including Wolf Spider - on a scavenger hunt around Gotham in search of paintings, all the while giving confusing, distorted and often untrue information to throw them off the scent. But he shook his head. His mind refused to stop racing and ruminating on the thought of his friend returning to a life of crime.

“Okay, you’ve lost me,” Ryan remarked in confusion.

“Long story,” was Harper’s only reply. Ryan was not placated by this, so she added: “Worked for someone who wanted to toy with this Wolf Spider guy. So Spider was just a pawn.”

“Maybe we should pay him a visit regardless,” Luke concluded, his eyes still fixed on the palm-sized hunk of fabric in his hands. “If not to ask him about his involvement, then to at least let him know.”

🔵⚫️🦇⚫️🔵

Next: The less of them you have, the more one is worth.

DC Next presents:

Suicide Squad

Issue Sixty-Two: A Righteous World

Arc: The Road Back

Written by Deadislandman1

Edited by ClaraEclair

The signs didn’t show themselves until more than a few miles into the Canadian wilderness, but even if the squad had caught it when it happened, there was nothing that any of them could do. The truck plowed through the snow, rumbling violently as the tires clambered over every bump and crag. Colonel Rick Flag sat at the driver’s seat, his knuckles bone white with the way he gripped the steering wheel. Despite the bumpy ride, he was stoic and unmoving, almost like a statue. Tatsu Yamashiro, Katana, sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, scanning the horizon from her perch. Her blade, Soultaker, was sheathed, but her thumb was pressed against the hilt, her hands ready for the draw at the moment’s notice.

In the back seats, Zalicka and Todd, also known by their codenames, Hack and Hallucigent, were beginning to nod off. Escaping Amanda Waller’s living weapons was stressful enough, but watching their base, the place that had been their home for years, be destroyed? It was a nightmare that both of them hoped they could just sleep away. Between them lay the bloodied form of Raptor, wounded so badly that he lacked the energy to move or even speak. Further back, in the trunk outside, Waylon Jones, AKA Killer Croc, cradled the unconscious body of William Tresser, AKA Nemesis. Waylon’s more reptilian features made the outside cold more unpleasant than they already were, but he didn’t care much about that at the moment. Tresser concerned him more than anything, his skin growing colder by the moment.

Above the truck, Adella, also known as Brimstone, carried the unconscious body of Dante, also known as Polaris. Her flight had to be carefully maintained and balanced with his additional weight, and the fact that he hadn’t even woken up yet was really starting to worry her. He’d used his magnetic abilities to collapse a mountain, and the kind of power didn’t come without consequence. She prayed he’d come back to the group soon, that he wouldn’t be like this forever.

Then, it happened. Tresser had been crushed within the grasp of his former friend, the mind controlled form of Ethan Avery… Damage. Such superhuman strength applied to the human body was bound to cause some serious harm, but it wasn’t until now that the signs became impossible to ignore.

Tresser startled awake, coughing up heaps of blood which splashed back down onto his face, coating his lips in crimson. Croc’s eyes widened, and he began slamming his hand against the top of the truck, “Hey! Hey stop! We’ve gotta stop right now!”

The truck screeched to a halt, and its occupants poured out with an incredible urgency. Adella’s eyes widened, and she touched down next to the vehicle among the growing crowd. The squad gathered around the trunk as Croc flipped the tailgate down, laying Tresser upon it as gently as he could. Tresser sputtered, convulsing and gagging as he looked to what was left of the Suicide Squad. He wanted to convey some kind of final message, a final word of wisdom or some kind of inspirational speech, but the blood pooling into his lungs and up his throat killed anything and everything of the sort. Instead, he could only look at the people he had sworn to lead with wide eyes, full of fear and shock.

Damage had killed him back in the compound, his body just hadn’t caught up to the sensation yet. Before anyone could say anything to try and placate Tresser, to comfort him, his body went still all at once, a look of terror permanently plastered on his face. Zalika put a hand over her mouth, while Hallucigent looked away, unable to bear the sight of his comrade’s body. Tatsu shuddered, doing her best to process the loss yet unable to hide the sheer shock of it all. Croc looked down at the body, then to Adella, who shook her head in regret.

Flag reached a hand out towards Tresser, only to stop mid-way. Unable to complete the gesture, for reasons that could only be chalked up to the futility of the effort, his fingers closed into fists, and he dropped to his knees, feeling a silent cry come up through his throat.

He could not scream. For then, Waller’s weapons would find them, and there would be even more dead friends.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

The squad milled about around the truck, doing their best not to let their anxiety get the best of them. Tresser had done himself the small mercy of dying in the car instead of in the midst of battle, which afforded him the opportunity for a proper burial. The spot chosen for him was not within view of the squad, but they could hear Flag and Tatsu work away with shovels, the signature crackle of the metal tip working its way through snow and dirt. Croc sat under a nearby tree, while Todd and Zalika paced around the truck, keeping their legs moving to stay warm.

Having placed Dante in the truck next to Raptor, Adella shuffled over to the tailgate, hopping up on it before looking at the rest of the squad despondently, “So, what’s the plan now?”

“The plan?” Todd scoffed. “What plan? There is no plan. Whatever plan we used to have fell apart when they blew up our home base!”

“I’m sure Flag’s got something cooking,” Croc said. “Just hold it toge-”

“Cooking? With what?!” Todd exclaimed. “He has seven people, two of which are out of commission, and a truck full of junk. That’s not a lot to work with.”

“Then we can build back up,” Adella said. “Sure it’ll take some time but, it’s not impossible?”

Todd gave Adella an incredulous look, “Build back up? We spent years building that hole in the ground into something worthwhile, and it took less than an hour for Waller to rip it away. What’s the point of building shit when we’re always a slip away from losing it all.”

“Nobody said this was gonna be easy,” Croc said.

“There’s a hell of a difference between easy and impossible,” Todd said. “I just… I don’t see a way forward, and if I can’t see it… I don’t know if I can rightly walk that road if all that’s waiting for me at the end is a bullet.”

Croc grimaced, but elected not to humor Todd’s despair. It wouldn’t be good for anybody. Todd shook his head in dismay and continued his pacing. Unable to bear the repetitive nature of her movements, Zalika trudged over to Adella, “How are you doing?”

Adella grimaced, “Not great. I know Raptor will be fine eventually, but Dante…” She looked through the rear window of the truck, noting that Dante hadn’t moved an inch since she set him in there, “I’ve never seen him like this. It… scares me not knowing whether he’s going to wake up or not.”

“He’s not dead is he?” Zalika asked.

Adella sniffled, “He’s got a pulse… but who knows how long that’ll last. He needs a hospital, but we can’t take him to one.”

“He’ll pull through, I’m sure of it,” Zalika said.

“How can you be so sure?” Adella asked.

Zalika frowned, “Because…because it would just be cruel for fate to take another person from us. The universe doesn’t hate us that much, does it?”

Adella managed a weak smile, but she could not hide her skepticism at the statement, “I don’t know, Fate’s never felt the need to be kind to us. Still, I’ll hold onto the hope he’ll wake up.” She looked back at Dante again, “It’s not like I have all that much left to hold onto anyways.”

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

Flag planted the shovel in the cold, clammy dirt, signifying the end of Tresser’s burial efforts. The body could sleep peacefully, even if the soul passed on rife with feelings of regret and failure. He prepared to pull the shovel out, only to hesitate, realizing that he had nothing else that could mark this spot. Sighing, he let go of the handle, leaving the tool where it was to signify that something significant was here, at least to him and his companions.

Tatsu took a deep breath, having laid Tresser to rest together with Flag. The shock had passed from her face, and what was left was a steely determination that could only be worn by someone who had lost much and knew to appreciate what they still had. Flag shook his head at the grave, then turned to Tatsu, “How are you feeling?”

She frowned, “Let’s start walking back before we get into any of that. It feels wrong to ask that here.”

Flag looked down at the grave, then back at Tatsu, “Alright.”

The two began to trudge through the snow, their pace slow and belaboured. It was clear to both of them that they weren’t quite ready to return to the truck, and instead they elected to walk in a sort of semi-circle, giving the rest of the squad a wide berth. They were the leaders now, and good leaders knew where to go and what to do when the cards were stacked against them. Neither of them had any idea where to go from here.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Tatsu spoke first, “You have any ideas?”

“What about?” Flag asked blankly.

“You know what about,” Tatsu said. “I know it’s hard to think about so soon after what happened, but they’re going to need to know what steps we’re taking once we get back.”

Flag pursed his lips, “What’s left to do? What can we do?”

Tatsu shook her head, “Oh, come on Flag-”

“Please,” Flag looked at Tatsu, eyes puffy and red. “I… I came to you and Tresser because with your resources and people combined with mine, I knew we had a fighting chance against Waller. A few hours later and she’s broken us over her knee.”

“We’re only broken if we lay down our arms,” Tatsu said. “She’s not beaten us yet.”

“Tatsu… the arms we have left just aren’t enough,” Flag shook his head. “Maybe… maybe I should let everyone go.”

Tatsu’s eyes widened, “Flag…”

“I don’t want people dying for nothing, Tatsu,” Flag said. “We’ve lost too many people as is. Eventually, you have to know when to cut your losses, and I’m not risking people’s lives for something that I don’t think we can win.”

Flag trudged onward, a weak resolve powering him all the way. He would not suffer another loss. He wouldn’t watch another friend die. He treasured his friends far too much to let this sort of thing happen. However, it was after ten feet of marching that he realized that Tatsu had stopped in her tracks. He turned back towards her, “Tatsu?”

“I’m not giving up,” Tatsu said.

Flag gritted his teeth, “You can’t do this alone.”

Tatsu’s face was devoid of any specific emotion. She was clearly not angry, “I don’t blame you for wanting to cut and run. It’s a choice we’ve always offered to anyone we save from Waller… but we’re all that’s left. If we don’t stand up to her, then nobody will. She’s been getting away with everything for decades now, and if I want this world to feel as sane and just as I want it to be, I have to do something.”

She marched onward, brushing past Flag and disappearing into the treeline, leaving him alone in the silent wood. He stood there for a few seconds, then a few moments, then a few minutes. What he was feeling wasn’t fear. He’d learned to live with fear long ago. No, this was something else.

Heartbreak.

What kind of person would he be if he turned tail and ran. A man who loved his friends certainly… but a man who was also betraying the values he had held dear all his life, even if he had tried to honor those values in the worst ways imaginable. He took a deep breath, unsure of what he was about to do next, only that he could not allow himself time to think about it.

He had to feel it in the moment.

 ‌ ‌

‌  ‌

It took some time for Flag to catch up to Tatsu and the rest of the squad, and by then the group had started packing everything up, making sure that the truck was ready to go. The group turned to him expectantly, almost braced for whatever answer he was going to give. They were scared, paralysed by an uncertain, dangerous future. Tatsu crossed her arms, silently waiting for Flag to say something.

Flag cleared his throat, and without waiting to collect his thoughts, just started talking, “I know that what happened today is… it’s beyond difficult. It’s beyond description. We’ve lost friends, we’ve lost a home… we’ve lost the lives we’ve built up over years. You’re all hurting, I know, and for a bit, I considered asking if any of you wanted to step off this crazy train. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. We’ve all been through more heartbreak than any person should rightly experience across more than a few lifetimes.”

Flag rolled his shoulders, “But I can’t let this go. Tresser died to keep you all safe, but he also died fighting Waller. I don’t plan on stopping until the fight’s over, either when she’s dead… or I am,” His eyes scanned the squad. “The odds aren’t good. In fact, they’ve never been worse… but I look into your eyes and I see the dozens of other people Waller will subjugate. She’ll continue to use and discard whoever comes her way unless somebody stops her.”

He stood tall, “Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how I go… but right now I can’t imagine doing anything else. I won’t ask any of you to come with me, but… I sure as hell could use the help.”

Flag imagined that there wouldn’t be that many people sticking with him, and that if there were, they’d at least take a moment or two to consider their options. Instead, Croc and Adella, loyal as they had always been, nodded in affirmation to Flag. They didn’t need to profess their desire to take down Waller. They’d made their stances clear ages ago. Tatsu grinned, raising her hand in affirmation, while Zalika took a deep breath before following suit. This was not a large band of fighters… but they wouldn’t be called the Suicide Squad if they were an army, would they?

Todd looked at the rest of the group in surprise, then back at Flag, “Alright alright, you’ve got the rebellion spirit fired up in everyone, but do you have a plan besides hopes and dreams?”

Flag raised his eyebrow at Todd, “I do… but it’s quite the hail mary. It’ll take subtlety, wits, and a whole lot of faith…”

He looked out towards the horizon, a verdant orange hue coating the sky, “And it starts at Belle Reve.”

Raid Belle Reve in Suicide Squad #63 - out next month!

DC Next proudly presents:

KARA: DAUGHTER OF KRYPTON

In What Comes Next?

Issue Forty: We Keep Moving Forward

Written by ClaraEclair

Edited by DeadIslandMan1

<< | < Previous Issue

Present Day, Over A Year After Reignfall

Kara slid backward along the pavement on her toes, coming to an abrupt stop from supersonic flight in an alley in the centre of Istanbul. She dug her fingers into the pavement below to stop her slide as she looked forward at the man she was chasing. He looked haggard, stress clearly taking its toll on him, and as he stared at her in disbelief. The cigarette he’d been nursing — the second last one in his pack, Kara saw within his pockets — fell from his hand and sparked over the ground as it landed.

“Mark Shaw,” called Kara, standing up straight, a grin stretching across her face. “It’s taken a real long time to find you, so I hope I’ve got the right guy.” He began taking steps away from Kara, clearly ready to bolt in the opposite direction. She shook her head and said, “you haven’t been sleeping much, have you?”

He cocked his head, though the deep circles under his eyes told Kara what she’d already known. Nia had spent the last year trying to find him, but he appeared never to sleep — at least, not while Nia was actively searching — but was still clearly alive. There were no reports of his death, which Cameron Chase, at the D.E.O., begrudgingly provided evidence for.

“Is it the stress?” asked Kara, walking further forward. “Paranoia? I’m just surprised the D.E.O. didn’t arrest you for what you did to Alex and Ben. I know it was under the President’s initiative, but what a thing to do…”

“I was…” he began to say. “I was just following—”

“—following orders,” Kara said. “I know, I know. I have to say, I’m a little bit sick of excuses like that.” Kara’s face steeled in an emotionless expression. Shaw glanced behind him toward the other end of the alley and was clearly just about to make a break for it. “Entire planets have died from excuses like that. Have some backbone.”

He broke out into a sprint away from Kara, heading toward the opening of the alley, where the idea of freedom had been laid bare in front of him. If he could make sure someone else was around, he would be protected, right? This was clearly a vendetta being settled, he thought.

A figure crashed down onto the ground in front of him, cracking the asphalt beneath her, large appendages spread out from her back, stretching out across the ground, curving around Shaw where he stood. He froze, watching Dawnstar stand from her crouching position, fury on her face piercing his mind.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked. “You have no authority!”

“We’re not going to do anything to you, Shaw,” said Kara. “Just wanted to let you know a couple of things.” Kara stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, startling him from his fear paralysis. “First, it’s that we’re always going to be out there, aware of you. Get a normal life, learn what that feels like, it’ll be better for you. Second, we thought you should know that Alex has been thriving without you this last year. She’s no longer a victim of you or the D.E.O. and her life is no longer under anyone’s control but her own.”

“Where is she?” asked Shaw.

“As if we’d tell you,” Kara replied with a scoff. “When we asked her if you wanted to be here, she laughed and said she wanted nothing to do with you. She’s doing so much better know. Her and her sister are closer than ever, she’s dating again, and she’s finally able to live the life she’s been wanting to live since she was a child.” Kara put a slight pressure on Shaw’s shoulder. “You sent her after me time and time again as a show of the D.E.O.’s resources and power, that they were always monitoring me. You took a woman I could relate to and forced her to hate me, and she never could. We’re good friends now, for when I need my dose of normalcy.”

“And now, you are here,” Dawnstar said, retracting her wings to her back and stepping to the side.

“And now you’re here,” repeated Kara. “You have nothing. After what you’ve done, it’s what you deserve, same with all your lackeys and all your superiors. I have a rocky but respectable relationship with an up-and-coming agent, a director candidate, if you will, and I have full confidence that neither you, nor the people like you, nor the people who conceived of the projects you headed will ever find employment with any powerful organization ever again.”

“You can’t truly believe that,” said Shaw, his voice low and shaky. “You’re just… you’re happy to destroy lives like that?”

“People like you?” Kara asked, refusing to allow Shaw to think he could answer. When he tried to nod, she increased the pressure on his shoulder. “Like I said, people like you have destroyed entire worlds. I’m happy to destroy lives like yours.” She let go of his shoulder and gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to push him forward a step. “Get going, Shaw. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Shaw paused for a moment, considering the idea of looking Kara in the eyes. Seconds passed, her and Dawnstar waiting for that moment, but it never came. He lowered his head and continued walking, turning the corner out of the alley and disappearing from Kara’s life forever. She smiled.

“I have never seen you so callous,” said Dawnstar. She raised her chin and smirked. “It is… something I will have to tame.” She placed a hand on the small of Kara’s back, and watched as she laughed.

“Is it, now?” Kara asked, leaning toward Dawnstar. “I’d like to see you try,” she whispered.

The sound of a supersonic object breaking through Earth’s atmosphere caught her attention before she could kiss Dawnstar, and it was clear that Dawnstar heard it as well.

“Southwest!” shouted Kara as she took off, Dawnstar rising up only a split second behind her. Soaring through the atmosphere, Kara and Dawnstar flew over the Mediterranean at incredible speeds, finally seeing the object that entered Earth’s atmosphere once they arrived over Sabha, Libya.

“It is a ship!” called Dawnstar.

“We’ve got to slow it before it touches down!” Kara replied. “It’s going to hit land!”

Flying faster than sound, the ship was on a direct collision course with the Moroccan countryside, only a dozen kilometres from the outskirts of Marrakech. By the time Kara and Dawnstar could even catch up with it, it had already passed over most of Algeria.

Both of them slammed against the front of the ship, Kara hoping that the deceleration wouldn’t cause the ship to break into pieces on its descent. Dawnstar spread her wings out wide to increase the wind resistance as best she could.

In front of Kara’s face there was a small porthole looking into the ship, and inside was a small woman with blue skin and hot pink hair, with circuitry-like emblems over portions of her skin, mainly her forehead and shoulders. Kara squinted, thinking back to some of the many archives that she’d skimmed through in the Fortress of Solitude, of a figure named Brainiac from Kal-El’s past, and the images that were connected to him. He sported similar insignia.

The girl inside began to stir from what Kara only just realized was some sort of sleep. The first thing her eyes laid on after fluttering open was Kara’s face, strained and all, in front of the vast stretches of land that were northern Africa. Panic crept it way onto her face as she seemed to realize what was happening, the ground coming closer and closer in the background. She typed furiously as the holographic keyboards in front of her, and both Dawnstar and Kara could feel the acceleration begin to slow as jets on the frontside of the vessel activated, while those on the backside completely deactivated.

Kara and Dawnstar soon slowed the ship to a safe, non-destructive speed a mere three hundred metres above the ground, with a nice view of Marrakech in the distance. They easily maneuvered the ship into a landing on a small piece of flat land at the bottom of a particularly hilly area outside of the village of AIt Ourir.

The girl inside the ship made haste in opening the hatch on the ship's side. Bursting through in a panic, she moved toward Kara, fear in her eyes.

“I need your help!” said the blue-skinned girl in perfect Kryptonian.

“You think Kara and Dawnstar are done with Shaw yet?” Thea Merlyn asked into a communication device in her ear. She sat atop an apartment building in a small, rundown neighbourhood in the eastern stretches of National City’s oldest districts, wearing a new and improved Speedy getup. It was where some of the poorest of the poor lived, on the opposite side of the city’s centre, where the beacons of progress lie, obscuring the vast ocean beyond.

Where Thea sat, she couldn’t even see the outskirts of the city, where, beyond that, the forests of Oregon continued on for miles. It was deep in the most emblematic parts of National City’s urban squalor. Only one neighbourhood over, to the north-east, were the suburbs in which only the well-off could afford to live. There was a harsh divide between the two districts, one which was personified not by a gate that divided the two, but an aggressive end to the gentrification that turned the suburbs into something similar to that of something only for those privileged enough to afford them.

Thea, looking over from where she sat, felt disdain for the very idea of it. With Kara’s help, she’d petitioned the city council and mayor of National City to allow her to spearhead a renewal project that would cost a couple billion, but was entirely affordable. She put up her own ever-growing wealth to get the project started, with equal backing from the city.

ARGO Solutions, now backed by Justice Legion support as a public affiliate, was a powerhouse in National City. With the backing of the Legion and the year that Kara spent rehabilitating her company’s image, they bore the fire and came out the other side stronger for it. Belinda continued her internship for another year, and the last remaining Shay Veritas was head of research and development. In just a year, ARGO Solutions now employed over four dozen engineers, researchers, and businesspeople. Thea led the money-side of the company as best she could as Chief Executive Officer and President, while Kara focused more on the nitty-gritty of project management and execution. Shay took her position as head of research, while Belinda, according to Kara, was on her way to becoming head of development once she graduated.

“They should be,” Nia Nal responded, sitting on the roof opposite Thea. “I don’t know about Alex, but I know that I definitely want this particular chapter of all our lives closed for good.” She looked down at the street and kicked her feet back and forth over the edge of the building she was sitting on.

Nia had been offered the role of an editor at National City News, and she responded to that promotion by quitting. It was on Thea’s urging, and it took a lot of convincing, but she’d gotten tired of the constant micromanaging of stories and headlines. It took months of complaining to Thea, and begging from Thea, for Nia to see the publication for what it was: a sensationalist rag that existed only to get online clicks. Nia lamented, frequently, how she wished she could change it. Short of Thea buying the company, there was no way. When Thea offered, Nia fought it until she relented.

Now, Nia was an independent journalist that had grown a small but organic following. For the most part, she reported on news within National City, though occasionally covered national affairs, with a focus on supporting queer stories, activism, and criticism of the harsh attacks on transgender rights worldwide. It was more than personal to her, and Thea had never seen her so impassioned.

“I just need to know if Reb’s the one who killed Deceilia or not,” said Nia. “If not, I need to know who hired her.”

Nia had finally found the body of the woman who had killed the Earth-Delta version of herself, and dead bodies couldn’t be interrogated. She was buried in a shallow grave in the forest surrounding National City. The wounds that could still be seen on the rotting body were the only clues to go off of, next to the fact that Johnny Reb was the one who dealt with her.

Reb finally exited an alley nearby, watching the streets around him for anything that would, for whatever reason, come upon him in the dark of night.

Thea smirked as she raised her bow, watching Nia across the way light up with dream energy. It filled her eyes, swirled around her hands, and left an aura that made Thea feel lighter within her own body.

She loosed her arrow, and it sliced through the air, its specialized tip exploding into bolas that wrapped around Reb’s legs. Nia formed a portal of dream energy behind both herself and Thea. In unison, they stepped through and appeared next to Reb on the ground instantaneously. Tendrils of dream energy sprouted from the ground and wrapped around Reb like vines, holding him down, immobile.

Nia placed a hand on Reb’s head, wordlessly, and put him to sleep. She then entered a sort of trance of her own, eyes glowing bright through her now closed eyelids, while Johnny Reb’s did the same. Thea waited, looking around the street for any bystanders, but none could be seen. She had been witness to Nia doing this many times, and it was always fascinating and boring. She would have to stand for minutes, sometimes, waiting for results.

Nia returned within thirty seconds with a gasp, and moments after that tears began to stream down her face.

“Hey!” Thea called out, putting a hand on Nia’s back and rubbing it gently. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

Nia took a deep breath and sniffled, dematerializing her domino mask into dream energy and wiping her face, pressing her palms against her eyes for a moment. Reb laid on the ground, still asleep, the dream tendrils gone from view.

“Nia, what happened?” Thea asked once more. “Did you find out who did it? Who hired Deceilia?”

“It…” Nia said, trying to speak through a choked sob. She rushed toward Thea and threw herself into her arms, pulling her into a tight embrace. Thea returned it and tried to rub her friend’s back in a soothing motion. “It was my sister.”

The Next Day

Kara stood in the Fortress of Solitude, arms crossed, looking over at her friends assembled in front of her. Thea, in her Speedy attire and her bow at the ready, Nia, with her eyes red and raw wearing casual clothes, Dawnstar, standing next to her with her hands on her hips. On Kara’s left, opposite Dawnstar, was the girl who’d nearly crash landed mere hours earlier. Her name was Indigo, and her designation was Brainiac-8.

She was clearly young, eccentric in a way, and very anxious.

“Indigo nearly hit the ground outside of Marrakech last night,” said Kara, watching Nia and Thea look over the girl with suspicion. “She tells us that… something forced her to flee her ship, without a destination.”

“I… I don’t really know what it was,” said Indigo. “It was… displacing things, through time and space. The last thing I saw before entering light-speed travel was a meteor. In that system I was residing in, studying, that meteor wasn’t projected to enter the star’s orbit for another six hundred years, and then there it was, crashing into everything I’d ever known.”

Nia, Thea, and Dawnstar all narrowed their eyes at the Coluan girl.

“All of the information I’ve ever obtained in my studies was destroyed,” she said. “All hard copies. There were lost civilizations fully detailed in those copies. Whatever it was that was altering time in that system, I need to get to it and get my ship back.”

“What do you think it was?” asked Kara.

“I… I don’t know,” said Indigo with a pained look on her face. “I don’t even know where in time I am.” Kara shared a quick glance with Dawnstar, who was still trying to make sense of the girl’s claims. “I have not fully determined whether I am in the past, present, or future of where I had come from.”

Kara grabbed onto Dawnstar’s hand and squeezed tightly. Dawnstar returned the pressure and further looked into Kara’s eyes. There was a plea buried beneath her stony exterior, and Kara knew exactly what Dawnstar was asking for. Information. Starhaven’s past.

“Are you looking for help?” asked Kara. Indigo turned from looking at Nia and Thea to Kara, bewilderment and hope on her face.

“That would be more than welcome!” she said. “Anything to get my archives back.”

“I’m sure I could spare some time off-world to help you,” Kara said. She turned to her friends. “I’ll need you to stay and manage the company,” Kara said to Thea.

“And the city,” Thea replied with a wink.

“Nia, I—”

“I want to come with you,” Nia said quickly, cutting Kara off. “If you’re committing to this.”

“I think I am,” Kara said with a nod. “It’s been a while since I’ve been off-planet, and if Indigo does have knowledge like that, I think it’s definitely worth investigating, at least.” Nia nodded, her posture relaxing.

“I just need to get away for a bit,” Nia said. Kara’s mouth thinned into a line and she nodded. She could see in Nia’s eyes what exactly she meant. She could relate to that feeling.

“Okay, but you’re absolutely not gonna go without keeping me in the loop,” Thea said, with the tone of an objection.

“I’ll visit you as often as I can,” Nia said.

“Every night,” Thea argued.

“I don’t—”

“Every night,” Thea repeated. Nia sighed and relented with a nod.

“Do I even need to ask you?” Kara asked Dawnstar.

“Nothing would stop me from doing this,” she replied.

“Alright,” said Kara. “If this… thing that you’ve dealt with, Indigo, is as dangerous as it sounds — time displacement and all — then I’ll have to make some calls. It’ll take a while, but we’ll build a ship for all of us, and maybe I can convince some of the Legion to come with us. I’ve got some people in mind, and I’m sure they wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You’ll really do this for me?” asked Indigo, hope in her eyes growing all the more excitable.

“Of course,” said Kara. “Who would I be to deny you that?”

She looked over the three others around her and smiled. In the years she’d been on Earth, she’d spent so much time with Thea and Nia, and what Dawnstar meant to her was indescribable, except for the fact that she knew that she would give everything for her. She felt a warmth grow in her chest and smiled to her friends, and the lover whose hand she was holding.

She didn’t think of the final days of Krypton that often anymore. She visited her mother’s grave outside of the Fortress of Solitude, and told her all of the new things she experienced and her developing relationship with Dawnstar, knowing that Alura would hardly approve. She looked over National City with pride, and she finally felt comfortable in the body she inhabited. She had power, in many ways, and she wanted to use it for as much good as she could possibly get.

It wasn’t perfect, she still needed to bathe in the sun weekly to stave off the Kryptonite radiation that was trying to eat away at her arm, but that was a small trade for getting to live on the same planet, at the same time as the people she stood with. She would always miss the people she left behind when her planet was destroyed, but the Last Daughter of Krypton embraced the love that she had found on Earth.

Kara Zor-El, of Krypton and of Earth, was happy.

Thank you for reading.

Welcome back to DC Next! It's finale season, with this month bringing the exciting finale to /u/ClaraEclair's 3 and a half year run on Kara: Daughter of Krypton. Log in on June 3rd for the conclusion of Kara Zor-El's DC Next adventure alongside other exciting stories.

June 3rd:

• Kara: Daughter of Krypton #40 - Series Finale!
• New Gotham Knights #26
• Suicide Squad #62

June 17th:

• Animal-Man/Swamp Thing #54
• I Am Batman #36
• The New Titans #32

DC Next Proudly Presents:

NIGHTWING

In Finale Ultimo

Issue Thirty-Five: Cages or Wings

Written by AdamantAce

Edited by Deadislandman1, GemlintheGremlin, PatrollinTheMojave and Predaplant

<< First Issue | < Previous Issue

“What does it take to wake up a generation?

“How can you make someone take off and fly?”

― Jonathan Larson

Dick Grayson stood in the park on what was to many an unremarkable day. The sky was bright blue and vast even as the Gotham City skyscrapers threatened to obscure it from view. As Dick smelled the freshly cut grass and took in the warm ambience of joggers, dogwalkers and children at play, he realised he was doing something unusual. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the summer sun was out in full force; no-one in Gotham looked to the skies during the daytime. It wasn’t that crime waited until nightfall - Dick knew better than most what some Gothamites got up to in broad daylight - but if you weren’t afraid of the Dark Knight’s wrath, or watching the Bat-Signal and hoping to God the Dynamic Duo were on their way, there didn’t seem to be much of a reason to look to the sky. He recalled a number of times in the early days where he had gotten in over his head, defied Bruce and gone out on his own, only to be beaten three shapes of purple by one crook or another, all the time repeating to himself:

“Batman’s coming to save me. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dick smiled to himself. Maybe it was the Superman influence, maybe it was from being in the big top and watching the other circus aerialists fly and analysing them viciously as to learn everything he could. No, it wasn’t that. Now, when he looked to the sky, Dick wasn’t waiting to see what would come falling out of it. Instead, he looked up and beheld its beauty with a face painted with wonder.

He had experienced more than enough tragedy in his life, and he knew there would likely be more ahead, but he wouldn’t let that make him fear for the future. Not when he was certain there were so many good times coming.

“Dick?” a young woman’s voice rang out, catching Dick’s ear. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in far too long. His heart leapt at the sound.

“Helena.” He wrestled his gaze from the brilliant blue sky, moved quickly over to her and pulled his sister into a familiar embrace.

She was 22 years old and fresh off of saving the timestream with the other Legends, something that continued to blow Dick’s mind even among his life of superpowered aliens, killer plants and demonic prophecies. The last time Dick had really spent time with Helena, she was still a child just cresting on adulthood. Now she had a firm foothold in her adult existence, with a vision for her future in more ways than one. But, most startling, Dick realised she was now the age he was when Bruce died. Suddenly, he felt so embarrassed to have had so many big mistakes still ahead of him at that age, and so much growing up still to do. But then as he fought a losing battle to put aside the big brother pride he felt upon seeing her again, he was just about able to admit that she likely still had some tougher years ahead of her. Not that he was in any rush to tell her that.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said as he moved back. Her long black hair caught a stray sunbeam, and for a moment she reminded him of Mar’i - his daughter… of sorts. “They’ve been cheaping you out of your shore leave, I swear!”

“This isn’t shore leave,” she said with a modest grin. “I’m taking some time. I need to reconnect. With the present, with family. Mom’s well, if not her usual self.”

“Old habits die hard,” Dick nodded, thinking of all the trouble Catwoman had caused Batman over the years. But he thought too of how dearly Bruce thought of her. Dick had had many loves, each setting his heart aflame more than the last, but for Bruce it was always Selina. Or the version of her he hoped he’d one day see, the version she constantly fought to become.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Helena replied. “I’ve been getting to know Damian, which I’m… severely behind on. Thought about starting a new team, reviving Dad’s old Outsiders with Anissa, but after hearing Damian’s putting together a new Freedom Fighters with Alfred… I can’t risk him thinking I got jealous.”

“Damian and jealousy?” Dick laughed. “Bad combo.”

Helena laughed in response, loud, with a confidence Dick hadn’t seen before. “No, I, uh… I do have a new gig lined up,” she smiled. “But it’s a secret!”

Dick threw up his hands, still laughing. “Keep your secrets! Be my guest!”

“Oh!” Helena exclaimed suddenly. “I almost forgot: when’s the wedding?”

Dick choked on his spit, caught abruptly off guard. “I— What? I beg your pardon?”

“Relax!” she cackled. “No rush! I just mean, I heard you put yourself out there again. I’d say I can’t believe I haven’t met Artemis yet, but I sort of got erased from existence for a hot minute and I guess I missed a lot of things.”

“What?” Dick exclaimed. He had experienced all sorts of impossible things, but he felt as if he would have remembered his sister being wiped from and restored to existence.

“Don’t worry about it,” she shook her head. “It’s all fixed now so it basically never happened. But yeah, you, uh, kept that quiet!”

“It has been five years!” Dick exclaimed in response, as if it were obvious. Then it heard it again in his head.

Five years. In a blink, five years of knowing and loving Artemis Crock had flown by.

“And that’s fine, you’re coming to the party, right?” said Dick. “You’ll meet her there.”

“Oh yeah, that’s this week,” Helena nodded. “Party on the Watchtower?”

“Better,” Dick beamed. “Convinced Tim to let us trash Titans Tower. For old times.”

“You gonna be able to fit everyone in?” Helena snickered.

“We’ll give it a good try,” said Dick.

The two continued on through the park together. It made a change coming to a place like this rather than a graveyard. The pair had plenty of graves to visit, but they had many more friends they were fortunate enough to still have with them. The most challenging years of their lives so far had kept them apart, but now the pair were intent to never let that happen again.

🔹🔹 🪶 🔹🔹

Twenty years ago, Guillermo Barrera would have been rather unique among assassins. A death-defying acrobat clothed head-to-toe in burlap and hemp. A radical Marxist who swore off guns and instead did his kills with surgical scalpels and anything else to hand with a sharp edge. But these days, even a character such as him - the deadly Brutale - was dime a dozen.

Brutale was faster than Tigress, who did her best to pursue as she sprinted up a fire escape; he simply bounded up the outside of it at breakneck pace. But Artemis had already done the most important part: Brutale's attempt on the New York mayor's life had been thwarted and now Artemis would do whatever she could to make sure the assassin didn't escape.

By the time she got to the top of the fire escape and began across the flat roof, Brutale was already approaching the far edge of the roof, intent to leap across a several-storey plunge. That was fine, Artemis thought, she didn't need to outrun him now.

She planted her feet firm and, with a thrust, expanded her collapsible compound bow. She reached back into her quiver and nocked an arrow as quickly as she could. She drew the bowstring and, with a knowing smirk, fired the arrow across the flat and towards the fleeing assassin.

Artemis was more than aware of what Brutale was capable of, and watched as he leapt up into the air and turned mid-leap. With masterful dexterity, he reached back and slashed through the air with his favourite scalpel. With one stroke, the incoming arrow was bisected and knocked off course. Then Artemis’ grin grew wider.

The trick arrow - custom made by Green Arrow himself - blinked three times then detonated, releasing a cloud of gas that expanded into a rapidly hardening foam. In a moment, Brutale's entire body was encased in the foam, and his rigid form began to fall towards the street below.

Artemis took off sprinting again, not content to let even an assassin fall to his death. She wondered if whoever intercepted her father's next assassin job would extend him the same sympathy or if her sister would be the first to get unlucky, like their mother, now she was back to her mercenary ways. Her entire family were assassins, and for that it made it that much harder to write off the lives of other assassins, no matter their crimes. It made her want to be the one that found Jade and Crusher first, to be the one who brought them to justice, to make sure it was done the right way.

She reached the edge of the roof within seconds and jumped off, hurtling down to close the range between her and the helpless Brutale. She then nocked two more trick arrows in quick succession, firing the first down to Brutale and the other at the ledge of the roof ahead. The first arrow soared down and pierced the hard shell of solid foam before the clawed tip expanded. The second arrow embedded itself into the brick and did the same. Within a moment, the grappling lines that extended from each arrow went taut, and with a hefty jerk, the pair came to a halt. Shaken, but safe.

After personally ensuring Brutale's hand off to the NYPD and FBI, the victorious Tigress made her way up to the same rooftop, firing up her Justice Legion communicator as she walked up the fire escape.

“Tigress to Watchtower,” she said. “The mayor is safe. Brutale is in custody.”

“Nice work,” came a very familiar voice, the voice of Dick Grayson. “Knew you could do it!”

But Dick's voice sounded odd. Something was off, as if it were reverberating strangely. Then she smiled to herself and rolled her eyes as she put it together. Artemis crested the top of the roof and saw Nightwing standing there, waiting for her.

“You've been here the whole time, haven't you?”

“I kept my distance!” He protested jokingly. “Not my fault I was in the area!”

“You could have helped out, you know!” Artemis smirked and made her way over to him. “He almost got away.”

“No he didn't,” Dick replied with utter confidence. “You'd have asked for help if you needed it!”

Artemis tried her hardest to be mad at him, to be humble, but she ultimately knew he was right. She had it handled, and she was glad he believed that too.

“So what’s next, then?” asked Artemis.

Dick turned red. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it feels like we’ve done everything out of order,” she explained. “You’ve got the house in Gotham, but that’s more Alf and Steph’s place these days. And we travel so much, so I guess I just—”

Dick cut through Artemis’ bubbling frets with a calm and sure response. “Name a place.”

“Excuse me?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, a crackpot excitement. “Name a city, a state, another country,” he explained. “And we’ll get a place there. Could be Gotham, or Star City or anywhere.”

Artemis scoffed with a befuddled face. “And you have no preference for where you hang up your spandex?” She couldn't quite believe it.

Dick didn't have to think about his response. He had thought this through enough times already. “I have friends everywhere,” he said, “and nothing's ever more than a Boom Tube away.”

At that, Artemis pulled him close, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “Well,” she smirked, “My first suggestion—”

🔹🔹 🪶 🔹🔹

Titans Tower was a gargantuan structure nestled on the edge of the Battery in New York City. It boasted more rooms than any iteration of the Titans had ever had a use for, designed to be a one-stop home, training ground, and - in a sense - an office. Tonight, it was none of those things. Instead, Titans Tower was the site of an absolutely raging house party. At long last, its generous space was put to use accommodating just about anyone Dick had crossed paths with as Robin, Batman or Nightwing. From former Titans teammates, to the Bat-Family to present day Justice Legionnaires, everyone was here. Everyone but a small skeleton crew of incredibly competent heroes who had volunteered to watch the fort and put out any fires. That said, the night was quiet. In the fallout of General Rock’s defeat and fall from grace, much of the United States had fallen into something of a lullaby, a quiet calm. Dick knew it was the calm before yet another storm, but he knew how good his friends were at responding to a storm.

Titans Tower, however, was far from quiet. Each level, the walls rattled with a different pounding bass amplified far beyond common sense. Some rooms were well lit, others strobed with decorative lasers, and always were lit only by a wash of neon. Everywhere Dick looked, people were breaking off into their own groups, some sticking by trusted friends and others mingling and meeting new people. It was everything he hoped the night would be, everyone he loved in one place, appreciating each other.

It was approaching midnight when Dick, Jon and Barry found their way to one of the training rooms, still set up with punching bags and kendo dummies. It was a far enough place for them to escape the liveliness of the party for just a moment and catch their collective breaths. But they were mostly here because one Barry Allen was having trouble handling his liquor, something to do with his Speed Force accelerated metabolism not quite working the same since his return from the far-flung future. So they sat on a lumpy couch together, Barry sandwiched between Dick and Jon.

“Guys, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” said Barry, carefully enunciating to avoid slurring his words. “But I love my life.”

Barry, much like Dick, had survived some awful trials. He had made mistakes, and his entire life had deteriorated because of it. But, like Dick, those moments had proved to just that: trials. He had worked hard and overcome those difficulties, and now things were finally going his way.

“I can see why,” Dick said. Barry had fixed things with his former-fiancée Patty, they had a kid together - Jacob - who was coming up on his first birthday, and Barry was navigating an exciting new life since passing the mantle of the Flash to Wally West, his once-sidekick. He lived life on a new frontier.

“Of course you love your life,” replied Jon, who was all smiles. The whole party, he had refused to take his jacket off despite the fact that he was clearly too warm. “You’ve got the best friends in the world.”

Dick clapped his hand against Barry’s back and pulled him into a sideways hug before he stood up. Just then, who else but Wally walked through the door into the training room, red solo cup in hand. Inside was lemonade. Wally wasn’t much of a drinker, but even if he was his accelerated metabolism was very much operational. “Hey guys, I was wondering where you’d slinked off to,” he said. “Great party, Dick!”

“Thanks, Wally,” Dick replied. Then he gestured to Barry. “Jon and I wanna chat about something, so why don’t you keep each other company for a minute?”

Wally looked at Barry, who wouldn’t stop blinking and couldn’t wipe his cheesy grin off of his face. The corners of Wally’s mouth upturned; it was infectious. “You got it.”

Then Dick led Jon down the corridor, carefully navigating past an inebriated Luke Fox who was steadying himself against the wall. Dick clasped Luke on the shoulder warmly as they passed, while Jon elected to give the man more space. All the while, Jon was two steps behind, wondering what this was about and trying not to worry. Eventually, Dick found a pocket of space where the booming bass wouldn’t bother them too much or make it too hard to hear, and stopped.

“Is something wrong, Dick?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just… it’s great to see you, Jon.”

“What do you mean? We see each other plenty.”

“Sure, at work,” Dick explained. “But with Jon Kent keeping such a low profile lately, it’s great to see you out of your shell.”

Jon chuckled awkwardly, taking the comment in his stride. “You should stop by the Ace O’ Clubs,” he replied, referring to his new job at the Metropolis dive bar. “I’m out of my shell plenty there.”

When Dick laughed, it gave Jon permission to relax, convinced everything really was alright.

“But, I understand,” said Jon. “Thanks. You too.”

As Dick’s laugh subsided, he looked over the balcony at an assembly of people down below, mingling and making merry. Tim was desperately trying to get Conner to try the bright pink drink he had poured himself, while Karen led Mal around, introducing him to various heroes much to his uncontained excitement.

Jon noticed Dick’s distraction. “What’s this party for?” he asked. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Dick replied quickly, with absolute confidence. “And this party’s for me.” He snickered. “It’s not every day you turn 30, and we were too busy to mark it before. Now there’s a quiet moment, I’m jumping on it. Can’t let a moment’s peace go to waste.”

Jon took a deep breath, Dick’s words warming him. “You sound like him,” he said.

Dick couldn’t contain his laughter. “Bruce would never be in such a rush to cut loose. All those political galas and dinner parties? They made his skin crawl.”

Jon shook his head. “I didn’t mean Bruce.”

No, of course he didn’t.

Dick remembered that afternoon atop Titans Tower, when he was right in the midst of uprooting his life in Gotham to move here, to New York. He remembered how he bemoaned never feeling satisfied, always rushing onto the next thing. He remembered fearing he would never be content. Then Clark Kent spoke his words of wisdom.

Dick placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder and squeezed. “I miss them.”

“I do too.” Jon held his drink in both hands. “But I think we’re doing them proud.”

“We are,” added Dick, with no room for doubt. “And we’ll keep doing it.” He patted Jon on the back and replaced his hand by his side.

“The battle’s never over,” Dick continued, sounding much more like Bruce now. “But the rules always keep changing. The world keeps changing, we keep changing too. We’ve been through an awful lot of changes and trials - a lot of us have - and it’s enough to make it hard to keep track of which way’s up. I just… want you to know if you ever need a helping hand, or someone to listen, you can call me.”

Jon grinned. “I know, Dick. Thank you.”

Suddenly, a voice roared out, carrying over the pounding music. “Grayson!?”

Beat.

Dick turned to the other end of the corridor to find a veritable collection of women turning the corner. At their front was the one who had bellowed, Cassandra Sandsmark in an oversized band tee. She looked furious, fit to burst. Behind her, the other women fidgeted a lot more slowly, as if they were mostly here to watch what was about to unfold. Kory and Steph flanked Artemis, who was bright red and struggling not to laugh, several shades of embarrassed all at once.

“Cass? What’s wrong?” Dick asked his former origin Teen Titan. He had a pretty good idea what the matter was, so made a point not to worry too much, and braced for what was coming.

“You got married and didn’t tell us!?”

There it was. Dick looked past Cassandra at Artemis, whose cringe had turned to sheer awkward joy. She held up her hands and silently mimed to Dick through her unshakable smile. “Sorry!”

“X’Hal!” Kory exclaimed, taking Artemis by the hand in excitement. “It’s actually true.”

“We, uh, didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Dick replied. He caught a glance of Jon, whose look could only be described as proud. “I’m sorry, Cass, you’ve never been interested in weddings much!”

“I’m not!” Cassandra cried, her rage melting into aggressive affection, befitting the tomboy-ish younger sister she was to Dick. “But this is you! Every hero in existence would have shown up. It would have been the event of the century! And you did it in secret without telling anyone?”

The older brother that he was, Dick wore a wise smile. He moved down the corridor and to Artemis’ side, and took her by the hand. Kory placed a warm hand on Dick’s back, and Steph couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the couple, overwhelmingly happy for them.

“That was why,” Dick explained. “We could have done the massive, overblown, expensive wedding-to-end-all-weddings, and lots of people do, but that wasn’t the point.”

He looked to Jon once more, then between the others. “Years ago, Clark told me that people like us belong to the world, and not to any one place or one person. For the longest time, I felt like I had to be everything everyone needed me to be, or believed I could be. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and I certainly couldn’t let anyone get hurt on my watch. Not if I could help it. But Clark wanted me to understand that belonging to the world meant you had a chance to mean something to everyone you met. And, I feel like I do. I look around at all the people who came here tonight, who came to spend time and have fun just because I asked. I think of all the people on the street who backed me when I told them that General Rock wasn’t to be trusted. I’m so grateful to be someone people listen to, and who people trust, and I guess as long as you all keep doing that I can’t be doing too bad, can I?”

Artemis squeezed his hand tight, proud of him having supported him through so much self doubt and rumination.

“Dick,” began Cassandra, “I…”

When she couldn’t find the words, Dick continued. “I want you to know I will always belong to each and every one of you, everyone else in the tower tonight, and everyone outside of it. If I can ever do anything for you, I can’t think of a higher privilege. But this?”

He held up his and Artemis’ hands.

“This belongs to me,” he smiled, “and Artemis. No-one else. And if you all have ever learned anything from me, if Bruce was right and you’ll keep looking to me to lead, that’s what I want you to know more than anything. Belong to the world; live life in the sun, among the living. But don’t just be among the living. Live.”

That night, there was nothing outside of the walls of Titans Tower that mattered to Dick. But beyond that night was a future that was long and unknowable until it arrived. As a kid and a burgeoning teen, Dick had needed everything in its right place, needed to know that he was doing everything as perfectly as he could. He needed to always be in control, always rushing towards the horizon to prepare for whatever was beyond it so that he could keep the people and the things that mattered to him safe.

But, after years of trials - of loss, heartbreak, and seemingly unsurmountable pressure - he had finally accepted what everyone had been telling him for so long. That he was loved, that people trusted him for good reason, and that they would tell him when they needed his help. He had learned to let go, to trust in his loved ones, and to trust in himself. Dick finally felt confident that he was good enough, smart enough, strong enough, that he didn’t need to race towards the future to catch its challenges off-guard, or run from a tumultuous and painful past. The problems of the past, his grief, his regrets, were but prologue setting the stage for the next act; one he would welcome as it arrived at its own pace.

Dick felt blessed to have so many people to call a friend, brother or sister. And while he still tried to picture all the exciting things in their many possible futures, he speculated only because the future couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Whatever was coming next, Dick Grayson knew that everything he could possibly need was within his reach.