"You some kind of Greenpeace fanatic?" the armored villain growled. He swung his Atomic Axe at Isis, scarring the burled trunks of the redwoods as he tried to connect with the Egyptian heroine. *
Her superhuman speed and agility kept her one step ahead of the slashing blade. "That axe is radioactive," she sensed. "It is poisoning the very air around us." Thick roots burst from the ground at her command, snaring the Persuader and the axe. He fought to hold onto his weapon as the gnarled roots sought to wrench it from his grasp. "But the roots of these mighty trees will bury it far beneath the earth where it will do no harm."
But a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her, causing her to drop to her knees. Her command over the roots weakened as she lost all sense of balance. The shrieking forest seemed to spin around her. Nausea gripped her and she clenched her jaws to keep from vomiting. I don't understand, she thought. What's happening to me? •
Count Vertigo came floating down from the sky, looking as though he was walking down an invisible staircase. His voluminous cloak rippled behind him as he descended toward Isis, who realized that the masked villain was somehow inducing her illness. "My dear princess. The surveillance photos don't do you justice." He sounded amused by the sight of her kneeling before him. "You truly are lovely."
"Back off, Count!" the Persuader shouted. He hacked himself free of the tangled roots and charged at Isis. His swinging axe drove Vertigo back. "The tree hugger is mine!"
Osiris lifted his head from the mulch and looked around groggily. The Elec-trocutioner went flying past him as Black Adam broke up the lethal twosome who had blasted them only moments ago. Plastique directed her remaining energies at Adam, but the explosive bursts only seemed to be slowing him down. Are we winning, Osiris tried to figure out, or are we still outnumbered? The pervasive smoke and greenery made it hard to tell just how many foes were arrayed against them.
He reached for his Titans communicator to summon reinforcements, only to find a handful of shattered pieces strewn upon the ground around him. "No," he realized. "It's broken...."
An agonized scream came from only a few yards away. "Adrianna!" he cried out, recognizing his sister's voice. Peering through the smoke, he glimpsed Isis scrambling across the ground on all fours, pursued by an armored attacker wielding an enormous glowing axe. She threw up an arm to protect herself and the sharpened edge of the axe sliced through one of her golden bracelets. Her skin sizzled as the irradiated blade cut a deep gash down her arm. A crimson stream gushed from the wound. Pain showed upon her face, which had a sickly greenish tint to it. She looked sick as well as injured.
"They wanted you all alive," the Persuader divulged. He smacked the blunt end of the axe handle into Isis' jaw. Blood sprayed from her lips. He lowered his steel boot onto her back, pressing her face down into the mulch. "But screw that. This is too much fun."
He raised the Atomic Axe high above his head. Osiris realized in horror that the villain was only seconds away from chopping Isis' head off.
"Leave my sister alone!" He launched himself at the Persuader like a missile, his fists out in front of him. Without even thinking about it, he flew straight through the armor-clad criminal, tearing the man's body in half. Steel, flesh, and bone came apart noisily. Gory entrails splattered the grove in all directions. The sundered halves of the Persuader's corpse twitched upon the blood-soaked duff before falling still forever.
It took Osiris a moment or two to grasp what he had just done. He slammed to a halt against the trunk of a sturdy sequoia, then turned around to inspect the damage. The first thing he saw was the upper portion of the Persuader's torso, lying lifelessly on the ground. The assassin's hands were still wrapped around the haft of his axe.
By the gods, Osiris thought, aghast at the carnage. I didn't mean ... I never meant to .. . He felt sick to his stomach. He was a killer now ... just like Black Adam. This was exactly what he had begged Adam not to do.
A horrified gasp came from overhead. Osiris looked up to see Count Vertigo floating above the grisly scene. Gore streaked the man's emerald costume. His face was pale behind his mask. Swallowing hard, Vertigo retreated in a hurry, fleeing into the secluded depths of the forest. Osiris let him go. He stared down at his crimson fists, which were slick with the dead man's blood and juices.
Sobek staggered out of the bushes. His vertical pupils widened at the awful sight before him. "Oh dear," the crocodile murmured.
Osiris dropped to his knees beside the Persuader's remains. "You should've ... you should've left my sister alone!" He buried his face in his hands, his anguished soul crying out in torment. "I wanted to do good...
Isis laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. No longer ill, she ignored her own injuries as she sought to comfort her brother. A heavy rain began to fall, as though the heavens themselves were weeping at the tragic chain of events. The downpour swiftly doused the wildfire engulfing the forest.
He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. Isis gazed down at him with compassion, refusing to judge him. But her understanding did little to ease his guilty conscience, even as she knelt to embrace him. He wept against his sister's shoulder, while Sobek looked on helplessly. The crocodile wrung his hands.
Black Adam landed nearby. He flung Plastique's and the Electrocutioner's unconscious bodies onto the ground at his feet. His somber eyes took in the heart-breaking tableau before him.
"Let's go home," he stated simply.
Sobek looked surprised at Adam's muted response, like the crocodile had expected Adam to execute the rest of their attackers on the spot. "But..."
"Before anyone else gets hurt," Adam said.
Hidden in the underbrush, Count Vertigo breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the Black Marvel Family fly away. The pouring rain mercifully washed the Persuader's blood from his sodden garments.
"They're leaving," he reported.
"That's all right, Vertigo," Amanda Waller replied from Louisiana. "I never expected the Suicide Squad to actually bring them in. I got what I really needed." Her smug voice held not a trace of remorse for Cole Parker, aka the Persuader. "Video feeds were live and recording."
Vertigo shivered in the rain. He was no saint, but even he was appalled at the woman's cold-bloodedness.
"We pushed the Black Marvels, and they pushed back," Waller said, summing up the mission. "Now we know what they're really capable of."
WEEK 35
METROPOLIS.
Clark winced as the hypodermic needle pierced his skin. It was an unfamiliar sensation; less than a year ago, the needle would have snapped against his invulnerable flesh. But he still hadn't recovered from the Crisis, which went a long way toward explaining his current predicament.
He sat tied to a chair, his arms cuffed behind his back. He strained futilely against the bonds, which were more than enough to restrain him in his depleted state. His groans echoed off the soundproof walls of a cell in some undisclosed location. A polygraph was attached to his arms and temples. Two burly thugs watched him with sullen expressions, on hand just in case he managed to get loose somehow. They looked unhappy to be spending New Year's Eve this way. Clark wondered if Lois and the others even knew he was missing yet.
"What's that?" he asked as a third man slid the needle out of Clark's arm. "Sodium pentathol?"
His interrogator, a bald-headed Asian man in a business suit, chuckled at the suggestion. "You're mired in the past, Mr. Kent." He placed the syringe down on a metal tray. "That was gaeamytal. It's as close as modern chemistry can come to synthesizing the unique atomic structure of Wonder Woman's lasso." Clark broke out in a sweat. He felt queasy, like there was kryptonite nearby. "Highly experimental as truth serums go, but then we only have one question for you. One to which you will certainly know the answer, since it concerns the secret identity of your good friend, Superman."
Clark's heart sank. Even if his powers were intact, he wasn't sure he could resist any serum that mimicked the magical properties of Diana's golden lasso. He tried to clench his j
aws shut, but the drugged muscles refused to respond. His secret was already poised at the tip of his tongue. Was this the day his enemies finally learned that Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same? I don't know how to stop this!
To his surprise, the interrogator held up a color photo of Supernova. "Tell me, Mr. Kent. Why is the Man of Steel masquerading as Supernova?"
Relief flooded Clark's system. He laughed out loud.
The Asian man scowled. This was clearly not the reaction he had been hoping for. "We're quite serious, Mr. Kent."
"That's what makes it so funny," Clark explained. "Gentlemen, I have absolutely no idea who's under that mask, but the one thing I do know for certain is this: He is not Superman."
And that was nothing but the truth.
"Meurosensors verify that Kent's not lying, Mr. Mannheim."
Bruno watched the interrogation via a closed-circuit camera from his office in Gotham City. Dr. Kim, the Intergang scientist in charge of the operation, reported to Mannheim over the screen. He tugged nervously at his collar.
"The Daily Planet has been using Kent to get exclusive coverage of Supernova," Kim insisted. "There's no better source of information."
Mannheim frowned. This entire exercise had been a waste of time and resources. "Drug Kent," he instructed sourly. "Take him back to his home and let him believe he was interrogated by LexCorp." He drummed his beefy fingertips against the top of his desk. "He's of no further use to us."
Kim nodded. "You were so sure...."
Don't remind me, Mannheim thought irritably. He had been all but certain that Supernova was actually Superman in disguise. But apparently that wasn't the case.... '
"Shut up," he snarled. "And destroy all the evidence."
He cut off the transmission.
WEEK 36
GOTHAM CITY.
This was the death watch now.
They had moved Vic into Saint Luke's Hospital shortly before New Year's, after a nerve-shattering seizure had forced Renee to call the paramedics. Now, thanks to Kate, he was installed in a private room in St. Luke's hospice ward. Renee kept vigil at his bedside, watching him bounce between delirium and agony. Only the morphine kept him from screaming.
"Said take five, Freddie Freeloader, said ... that's not the cheese, Izzy, that's ... no, I'm doing ... all right... baby baby baby blues in green ..."
Renee's eyes teared up. She barely recognized him anymore. A month ago he'd been Vic Sage ... "Charlie." He'd been funny and smart and a-royal pain in the ass. He was my best friend in the world, she thought. Then the cancer got busy.
"How high is the moon? Huh? Tell me, butterfly...."
She had thought about ending it, about shooting him so full of morphine that he'd just go to sleep and never wake up. But she knew what he'd say if she could ask him if that was what he wanted.
He'd say no.
It's the last big question for him, she realized. He wouldn't want to miss this. And I'm not going to take it from him.
Instead she leaned over and brushed the hair away from his eyes. His head lolled forward, his jaw hanging open slackly. Stubble showed beneath the nasal cannula assisting his breathing. Electronic hardware monitored his vital signs. An IV bag kept him hydrated. A vase of fresh flowers rested on a nightstand, next to a portable CD player. The air smelled of bleach and antiseptic.
Renee placed his head back against his pillow. An unread issue of Congo Bill World Travel lay open on her lap. The cover story promised rare photos of Africa's famed Gorilla City, but Renee couldn't get past the contents page. A cardboard mailing box, liberally covered with stamps and postage marks from all over the world, sat on the floor by her feet. Similar boxes were stacked over by the window sill. An opened envelope rested atop the latest box. Unable to concentrate on her magazine, she picked up the envelope and skimmed part of the letter inside:
though whether this was due to removing them from Nanda Parbat or from the depredations of the postal service, I can only hope it is the latter. In any event, I have made another trip to the sacred gardens of Rama Kushna. As I said in my last missive, the flowers enclosed are known to the monks for their remarkable curative properties....
Tot's handwriting was as precise and legible as ever. Not that this was likely to do Vic any good. She picked up the box and tilted it toward her, so that its desiccated contents poured into her waiting palm. Instead of magical blooms, crinkly brown powder spilled through her fingers.
Same old story, she thought bitterly. Tot kept sending the flowers in vain, hoping they would survive long enough to help Vic. But they didn't. Outside of Nanda Parbat, their days were numbered. She glanced at the stack of boxes by the window. Outside of Nanda Parbat, all of the flowers had crumbled to dust.
Wait a second. ...
She stiffened as a flash of inspiration, or maybe madness, hit her. She clenched her fist so tightly that not a grain of powder escaped. A look of utter determination came over her face, transforming her weary features. She nodded to herself as a crazy idea drove all other considerations out of her head. Outside Nanda Parbat, the flowers were no good.
But inside... ?
SHIRUTA.
The blurry surveillance photo showed Osiris plowing straight through the Persuader in a gory eruption of blood and guts. No one knew who exactly had leaked the photo to the media, but the world's press had given it front-page coverage, including Kahndaq's own Arabic newspapers. Osiris stared bleakly at the damning photo. Even now, two weeks later, part of him still couldn't accept that the killer in the picture was actually him.
But it is me, he acknowledged guiltily. I really did that. I killed a man. Tore him in half without even thinking about it.
If only it wasn't so!
He sat alone in his bedroom in the palace. The lights were off, but sunlight filtered through the lattice window from outside. An uneaten meal rested by the door, waiting for the servants to spirit it away. He had barely left his room since returning from America. Captain Marvel Jr. had tried to see him, but Osiris had sent him away. He couldn't face Freddy or any of the other Titans, not after what he'd done. He just wanted to be left alone.
"Osiris?"
Sobek nervously peeked into the room.
"I don't want to talk," Osiris told the lurking crocodile.
Sobek entered anyway, bearing an armload of shiny red apples. "Do yoti w-want something to eat? I picked these wonderful apples from your sister's garden." One of the fruits tumbled from the pile and bounced across the floor. "They're as sweet as honey!"
Osiris couldn't care less about the apples. He glumly tossed the newspaper onto his bed. "Adam said it was an ambush, that someone sent those super-villains to try and provoke us." Angry tears spilled from his eyes. "They wanted to show the world that we are nothing more than a family of sadistic murderers!"
"Who would do something so mean?" Sobek asked. His scratched his scaly head. "But you were just trying to save your sister. The world will understand that eventually."
"No, they won't!" Osiris insisted. "They were already afraid of us, even before this happened." The awful truth hit him with the force of a thunderbolt. "They hate us, Sobek! And no matter what we ever do, the entire world will always hate us!"
Sobek's head slumped. Unable to refute the anguished teen's argument, he could only hold out a solitary apple. "I don't hate you."
Osiris smiled sadly, grateful for the crocodile's friendship. He took the apple from the reptile's claws. "Thank you, Sobek."
GOTHAM CITY.
"This is a bad idea," Kate said.
A faux shearling jacket shielded her from the wet, heavy snow coming down in buckets onto the small private airfield. A chartered medical transport jet, about the size of a small Learjet, was parked on the icy tarmac, several yards away from the sleek black limo that had conveyed them here, despite the hazardous road conditions. The ambulance from St. Luke's had already departed. Concern showed upon Kate's strikingly beautiful face.
Renee shrugged.
She opened a foam-lined metal case and counted the syringes inside one more time. She didn't want to run out of morphine before she and Vic reached their destination. Her own winter gear was considerably less stylish than Kate's, consisting of nothing more than a rumpled down parka, gloves, and a pair of snow boots.
"Charlie's almost dead as is," she replied. She closed the case and stuffed it back into her duffel bag. "There's not a hell of a lot I can do to make that worse."
"I'm not talking about him." Kate reached out and placed her hand on Renee's arm. "I'm talking about you ... and I'm thinking this looks an awful lot like denial." .
"No," Renee said fiercely, shaking off Kate's grip. "Not denial. Defiance." She hoisted the bulging duffel bag onto her shoulder and tried to make the other woman understand. "I've lost too many people, Kate."
That wasn't good enough for Kate. "The jet will only take you so far! There are no flights where you're going! No roads!" She grew visibly frustrated as she tried to talk Renee out of her insane itinerary. "You can't hike a dying man up the Himalayas in the middle of the winter!" She was almost pleading now. "The weather alone could kill you both!"
"I know," Renee admitted. She started to turn away from Kate. Vic had already been loaded onto the jet. The sooner they got going, the better her chances were of getting him back to Nanda Parbat in time.
Kate grabbed onto her arm again, harder this time. "Renee, please! Stay with me, help me fight Mannheim." Melting snowflakes glistened like tears upon her ruddy cheeks. "I just got you back in my life. I don't want you walking out again!"
I don't want to, Renee thought fervently Reuniting with Kate had been the only bright spot in these last few weeks. Her lips still held the memory of that magical kiss on Christmas morning. But I don't have any choice.