Take care, beloved, Isis thought, fearing for her husband's life. Beware his fatal touch. ■
Death's fingertips grazed Black Adam's cheek. Almost instantly, the telltale black veins began to spread across his face....
No! Isis thought. Not Adam too!
With one last burst of divine power, she reached down to the very core of the world and summoned fiery vengeance from underground. "Earth, remove him...."
A geyser of red-hot lava erupted directly beneath Azraeuz. The volcanic explosion hurled him high into the air, away from Black Adam. Above them, the burning Horseman arced across the sky like a blazing comet. Scarlet flames rushed over his great black wings. Isis prayed that the purifying fire would consume the lethal entity until no trace of it remained. There had been too much Death already ... or perhaps there had not been enough.
Exhausted, she collapsed against the ground.
"Isis!"
Adam rushed to her side. He furiously swept the voracious insects away from her body. Sores and swellings disfigured her unforgettable face and form, but beneath the diseases ravaging her body he could still see the woman he loved ... the woman who had brought him peace and happiness for the first time in countless centuries. This cannot be! he thought in anguish. The gods could never be so cruel!
Despair tormented her. "All we tried to accomplish ... all my brother tried...."
"I will take you to the Rock of Eternity," he promised, clutching her hand tightly. Her feverish skin was hot and dry. Her pulse throbbed feebly beneath his fingers. "Perhaps Billy will be able to ..." -
She shook her head. "I see it now. Why your way ... kept Kahndaq and its people safe."
"Do not give up hope," he commanded her. "You taught me never to abandon hope."
Hot tears streaked her face. A bitterness entered her voice that he had never heard before. "I was wrong."
Adam didn't want to hear it. "I believe in you."
"I was wrong, Adam," she insisted. "It was never you that needed redemption. It was the rest of the world." A palsied hand reached up to stroke his face. "You tried so hard ... for a world that did not deserve our mercy... that put our family through so much pain...." Her expression hardened. A light went out of her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was cold and unforgiving:
"Avenge us."
Her heart stopped. Her trembling body went limp. A bolt of golden lightning shot from her eyes. The power of Isis fled her dying body, returning to the heavens ... perhaps for all time. All that was left behind was the lifeless body of a woman named Adrianna Tomaz.
Her final words echoed in Black Adam's brain.
He clenched his fists.
NAIMDA PARBAT.
One minute, the rose was as bright and fresh as ever. The next, it died right before Renee's eyes.
Seated at Tot's desk, she looked up from the Crime Bible in surprise. The diabolical tome lay open before her, revealing a grisly woodcut image of screaming victims throwing themselves into a fiery pit in the middle of a distorted cityscape. Renee had been poring over the illustration, searching for any possible Gotham landmarks, when a falling brown petal caught her attention.
What the hell?
More petals, all crinkly brown, rained down onto the open pages. She reached out for what was left of the rose, but it crumbled to dust in her hand, disintegrating like Dracula in the sunlight. The fallen petals also blackened and fell apart, faster than any natural process of decay could account for.
A shiver ran down Renee's spine. I don't understand, she thought. Isis' magic had sustained the rose for over four months now. How could that magic fail now, unless ...
"She's dead," Renee realized. "Isis is dead."
Tot and Richard looked up from their seats by the hearth. They watched somberly as she let the powdery remains of the rose trickle through her fingers. Neither of them offered any other possible explanation for the flower's freakish demise. Richard's eyes narrowed as he observed Renee's reaction to the news. He nudged Tot, who got up and left the room.
"Whatever happened," she guessed. "It can't be good." She gazed thoughtfully out the window, a worried expression upon her face. "Adam and Osiris ... what will they do now? How will they cope?"
"Find out," Richard said.
"Huh?" She turned toward her teacher. What was he suggesting?
"Go and find out," he said simply.
Tot reentered the room, bearing a bundle of clothing. Renee recognized some of her own laundry, as well as Vic's old fedora and trench coat.
"There are lots of answers to be found in Nanda Parbat, no question about it." He rose from his seat. "But none of them are going to satisfy you. Not one of them is the one you're looking for."
Tot set the bundle down on the desk. "I took the liberty of treating your normal clothes with the same reactive compound used in the coat and hat. You'll also find in your belongings a bottle of specially formulated shampoo that will likewise react to the binary gas, altering its color. The actual adhesive for the mask is now part of the ..."
"No," Renee said firmly, crossing her arms across her chest. She saw where Tot and Richard were going with this. "I'm not him. I'm not going to be him."
The old professor was visibly annoyed by her reaction. "Believe me, Ms. Montoya, I'm painfully aware of that fact."
Richard stepped between them, playing peacemaker. "Of course not. You're going to be yourself," he told Renee. He lifted Vic's hat from the desk. "That's the way it should be. That's what Sage wanted."
He faced her across the desk, his voice as calm and confident as usual. Renee eyed him skeptically, but was willing to listen to what he had to say. Go ahead, she thought dubiously Make your case.
"You saw your reflection in the cave, Renee. You saw yourself without ego, without distortion, selfless and ideal."
Without a face, you mean. "I don't know what I saw, Richard."
"Sure you do," he said with a sly grin. "It just makes you uncomfortable. It scares you." That didn't seem to bother him. "It should."
"How reassuring," she replied sarcastically, while Tot watched the discussion intently. "Is this another lesson about letting go? Cease being myself to become myself?".
"Lovely paradox," he commented. "A lot like life." ,
Big deal, she thought, still resisting the idea. "Well I don't need a mask for that."
Richard contemplated the fedora in his hands. "You're going to find, like Sage did, that some questions can only be answered by wearing a mask." He leaned forward and lightly placed the hat on her head. "Just as there are some that can only be asked when you remove one."
The brim of the hat cast a shadow over her face, hiding her features. Renee tried to imagine herself wearing the Question's trademark trench coat and mask. That's not me, she thought. As a Gotham City cop, she had worked with plenty of masked vigilantes: Batman, Robin, Catwoman, the Huntress. But she had never wanted to be one. That's Kate's scene, not mine.
She reached up to remove the hat, then hesitated. What would Vic want her to do? Why else had he spent so much time preparing her?
"Start in Kahndaq," Richard suggested. "See where that leads you."
WEEK 45
SHIRUTA.
Black Adam stood before the open balcony, looking out over the city below. His hands were clasped behind his back. Night had fallen outside. The darkened sky seemed to match his mood.
"It started raining the day she died," he said grimly, "and it has not stopped since. The people say these are her tears. They say Isis weeps not for herself nor for her brother nor even for me, but rather for all of Kahndaq and her people."
He turned to face Renee, who had just been escorted into the throne room. Water dripped from her trench coat as she removed her hat. A black armband, purchased from a street vendor, let her share in the city's mourning. I still can't believe Isis is really dead, she thought.
"She weeps," Adam continued, "because she can no longer walk among them." He inspected his visitor. "Sage is not with
you."
Renee held onto Vic's hat. "He died."
Adam nodded, unsurprised by the news. "She said he would."
Turning away from Renee, he gazed out at the city once more. She joined him at the rear of the balcony. Neither of them looked at each other.
"Why are you here, Renee Montoya?"
She knew better than to place a comforting hand upon his arm. "I wanted to see if there was anything I could do."
"You?" His voice took on a bitter edge. His expression darkened.
Renee understood that she was taking a serious risk here. An angry Black Adam was a dangerous Black Adam, and he had never exactly been the president of her fan club. But somebody had to talk to him, before he took his pain and fury out on the rest of the world. "I know what it's like to lose the people you love." She looked him squarely in the eye. "To have the world turn on you for no reason."
"You know nothing." he spat.
"Almost nothing, sure," she conceded. "But I know about this. I know about the guilt and self-loathing at being the one who survived. I know the rage at not having been able to prevent what happened."
He snarled in warning. His fists clenched at his sides, and Renee remembered the last time she had faced a pissed-off Black Adam, when he'd caught her lolling in bed with that local girl. At the time, she had goaded him recklessly, not caring what happened to her, but this was different. She didn't want to provoke Adam. She wanted to help him. Whether he wants me to or not.
"And I know the shame that comes from believing you've failed those most important to you...."
Black Adam grabbed onto her by her face. His fingers, which were capable of ripping her head from her shoulders, dug into her cheeks. "You have always presumed too much," he growled. "Now you presume a friendship that does not exist."
“Isis was my friend," she insisted, only too aware that she could be only moments away from death herself. When Black Adam lost his temper, people tended to get dismembered.
But he merely tossed her aside. Skidding across the floor on her butt, Renee realized that she had gotten off easy. Adam was seriously restraining himself.
"And it is in her memory that I will allow you to leave here alive," he said. "I do not require your help, and I do not want your pity." His feet lifted off from the floor, so that he hovered in the air above Renee. It was only a matter of inches, but that short space seemed to define an unbridgeable gulf between them. "Look to your own affairs, and leave me to attend to mine." He peered down at the mortal woman as she got up off the floor. An icy cold rage seemed to emanate from him, chilling Renee to the bone. "The last of the Four Horsemen who murdered my wife and brother has fled to Bialya, where he has been given aid and comfort by the government. A government bought by Intergang, much as they tried to buy their way into Kahndaq."
He floated out over the balcony. "But Intergang has other targets, do they not?" He glanced back over his shoulder at his unwanted guest. "Isn't it time you went home, Renee Montoya?"
With that, he launched himself into sky.
Renee was suddenly very glad that she wasn't in Bialya.
BIALYA.
"This is a betrayal, Mister Mannheim!"
Colonel Sumaan Harjvati, President-for-Life of the glorious nation of Bialya, railed at the enormous flat screen monitor taking up one entire wall of the presidential war room. Epaulets and medals adorned Harjvati's khaki military uniform. A thick black beard sprouted from his florid features. An automatic pistol was holstered to his hip. Aides, advisors, and generals clustered around the spacious chamber, whispering nervously amongst themselves. Harjvati shook his fist at the screen.
"I'd choose your words carefully, Mr. President." Bruno Mannheim, live from Gotham City, glowered from the jumbo-sized screen. Smaller monitors, situated around the room, ran TV coverage of the funeral services in Kahndaq. Captain Marvel and the rest of the Marvel Family could be seen serving as pallbearers for Isis and Osiris.
Harjvati ignored the ganglord's warning. "Our whole nation embraced your religion of crime, your new world order! You said it was prophesy, and that Bialya's role in deploying your Four Horsemen would remain secret!"
He pointed an irate finger at the looming figure of Azraeuz, who was lurking at the rear of the room, glaring ominously at all assembled. The last of the Horsemen still bore the scars of his battle with Black Adam. Scorch marks defaced his armor. The tips of his wings were singed. Armed soldiers, members of Bialya's elite Sovereign Guard, kept their weapons trained on the unearthly apparition, while trying hard not to look Azraeuz in the eyes.
"Why has Death arrived at our doorstep, Mister Mannheim? Why does he hover over us in silence?" Perspiration beaded upon his balding dome. "Is this part of your prophesy too?"
On the screen, Mannheim looked distinctly unsympathetic to Harjvati's plight. A massive map of Gotham City occupied the wall behind him. A circle had been drawn in the center of the map, over the very heart of the city. Harjvati didn't even want to know what that signified. Gotham is Mannheim's territory, he thought. All I care about is my own country!
"Prophesy's a funny thing, Mister President," Mannheim said with a smirk. "You tried contacting Dr. Sivana?"
Of course I did! Harjvati thought. "The Oolong Complex is refusing all incoming communications. They appear to be in lockdown!"
"Then it looks like you've got a problem." Mannheim glanced at his watch. "Especially since the funeral services in Kahndaq just ended."
Harjvati knew what that meant. "Black Adam will be on his way here." More sweat streamed from his pores. He dabbed frantically at the perspiration with a monogrammed silk handkerchief. "You must help us! My army won't be enough!"
"That's what I'm trying to say," Mannheim said. He casually lit a cigar and blew smoke at the screen. "Nice knowin' ya."
The screen went blank as Mannheim abruptly cut off the transmission. Traitor! Harjvati thought. Turncoat! He opened his mouth to demand that contact with Gotham be restored. "Get me—"
Black Adam flew through the screen, exploding out of the heavily fortified walls of the wrar room. A high-pitched shriek escaped Harjvati's lungs as he ducked beneath the flying debris. Generals, soldiers, and terrified cabinet members dived for cover. Azraeuz screeched like a wild animal as he retreated via the rear exit. The Horseman's fearsome scythe cut a bloody path through any soldiers unlucky enough to get in his way. Gunfire ricocheted harmlessly off Death's scorched armor.
No! Harjvati thought. This isn't fair! He wished that he had never heard of Intergang, let alone accepted their bribes and support. What was the good of being President-for-Life when that life could be cut short in an instant? I have to get out of here!
A powerful hand grabbed onto the dictator's neck, lifting of him from the floor. His feet dangled in the air as he found himself face-to-face with Black Adam. The other man's saturnine features were as hard and unyielding as the pyramids. Iron fingers tightened around Harjvati's throat.
"The Four Horsemen did not come from Bialya!" Harjvati lied desperately. He tried to pry himself free from Black Adam's grip, but not even a crowbar would have sufficed. "I beg of you! Mercy!"
Black Adam's implacable black eyes were those of an executioner. "This is mercy," he declared. "It will be quick."
He hurled Harjvati up at the ceiling, where the dictator's head splattered like a soft piece of fruit.
Fragments of skull and brain clung to the ceiling even after Sumaan Harjvati's lifeless body hit the floor. But pulping the buffoonish president provided Black Adam with little satisfaction. Harjvati had been nothing but a pawn in Intergang's ruthless play for world domination. Isis' true killers lay elsewhere.
No matter, Adam thought. They shall not escape my justice. Bullets bounced off his face and chest as Bialya's Sovereign Guard sought to avenge their leader. A grenade exploded uselessly at his feet. His fists clenched, he flew straight into the midst of the soldiers. And all who oppose me will suffer the same fate.. . .
Moments later, he
burst through the walls of the presidential fortress out into the open square beyond. Fresh blood soaked Black Adam's sacred garb, which remained unmarred by the feeble efforts of Harjvati's defenders. To the military forces stationed outside the palace he looked like some bloodthirsty afreet out of their childhood nightmares.
An entire battalion of tanks and missile launchers awaited Black Adam, nor were these decrepit Cold War relics; Intergang's generous support had allowed Bialya to upgrade its armed forces significantly. Over a dozen state-of-the-art LuthorCorp battle cruisers, complete with spent-uranium armor, were pitted against a single unarmed man. Laser targeting beams swept over his body.
Black Adam sneered in contempt.
Without pausing for an instant, he plowed right through the row of tanks. One after another, the armored vehicles exploded from within. Tank guns and mounted artillery tried to retard his progress, but the high-explosive rounds detonated harmlessly against him. Black Adam ripped one tank in half, causing it to blow up, before flying onto the next. Choking black smoke soon filled the square. A panicked general urged his troops onward. The braver of his soldiers fired wildly at Black Adam; many others fled in terror from their immortal foe. Flying shrapnel posed a threat to everyone except Adam.
"Where is the Horseman?" the general cried out in frustration. Mere mortals were obviously no match for Black Adam; only Intergang's inhuman creation stood a chance of stopping him. "Where is Death?"
A burning chunk of metal slammed into his body, answering his question ... at least in the abstract. The flying tank chassis killed half a dozen of his lieutenants as well. A mangled heap of steel served as their headstones.
Yes, Black Adam thought, his eyes on the lookout for Isis' murderer. Where is Death?
BELLE REVE. LOUISIANA.
Frantic aides briefed Amanda Waller on the crisis.
"Echelon has picked up fresh transmissions out of southern Bialya, all within the last twenty minutes." Count Vertigo was visibly shaken by what he'd heard. His own country had been destroyed by the Spectre years ago. "It's ... it's a slaughter...."
Another voice piped up. "Checkmate and NSA satellites positively confirm Black Adam's presence in country, but whether he's responsible ..."