A.N. I've started a new story. The origin story of my ROB, Nekros. You can find it on my page.
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Chapter 7
-Bardock –
The Watchtower had never seemed so small to me. That was the first thing I noticed when we reconvened in the main briefing chamber. I had spent enough time aboard Capsule Corp ships, Kaioshin worlds, the Time Patrol headquarters and even Beerus's ridiculous floating palace to know that size had very little to do with how large a place actually felt, but the Watchtower had acquired an almost claustrophobic quality now that everyone who mattered had gathered inside the same room.
Superman stood near the broad observation window with his arms folded, looking out over the Earth as though he could somehow see through the atmosphere and find the damage I had left behind in Antarctica. Wonder Woman stood beside him, still carrying herself with the composure of a queen despite everything that had happened. Batman had taken his usual position slightly apart from everyone else, where he could watch the room without appearing to watch anybody in particular, while the Lanterns, the Flash, the Martian, the Kryptonian brat and the lightning throwing brat had arranged themselves around the central table.
Even with my senses dulled by this universe's strange interference, I could feel the tension between them. It wasn't fear anymore, at least not the raw sort I'd felt during our first fight. They had moved past that. What remained was caution, calculation, and the uncomfortable realisation that they had invited an alien into their headquarters who had just demonstrated that he could destroy a planet with considerably less effort than he had needed to defeat them. I couldn't exactly blame them for being nervous. I was beginning to understand that my idea of restraint and theirs were still separated by a fairly substantial gulf.
The stranger thing was the company we'd acquired. A man in a golden helmet who looked like something from Goten's comics stood off to a side, like he'd strolled into military command centre and decided that he belonged there anyway, while besides him stood a man in a battered trench coat whose magical presence was so obvious that I could practically taste it.
Magic had a smell. I had never bothered trying to explain that to anyone because most people couldn't perceive it the way I could, but it had always seemed obvious to me: divine energy had a different quality from mortal ki, demonic power had another, and sorcery left something behind in the air that reminded me of rain striking hot stone. The man in the coat had all of that around him, yet the cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes was almost strong enough to drown it out.
I looked at him for several seconds before deciding that I had probably never met anyone quite like him. Bulma smoked sure, because of the stress, but this guy…calling him a chimney still undersold it. He noticed me looking and raised one eyebrow, as though he'd already guessed what I was thinking.
"Constantine," he said eventually, with the tired air of someone introducing himself to a customs officer who had just discovered a suspicious object in his luggage. "John Constantine. Don't worry, mate. I'm just as disappointed to be here as you are. The shiny one here is Dr Fate." I wasn't entirely sure whether he was joking, which made me like him slightly more.
The other man was considerably harder to read, besides the helmet obscuring his expressions. Fate's magical presence was disciplined, layered and remarkably clean, as though every thread of energy around him had been arranged with deliberate care. There was no waste in it. No stray power bleeding into the room, no emotional flare, nothing like the wild aura I'd sensed from some of the demons I'd fought throughout my life. In fact, in contrast the malevolent chaos they radiated, there was an element of…order, to his aura. Calm and yet mighty like an ocean breeze. Which was strange because I was certain he was a mortal, and yet there was still something off about him.
He simply stood there, observing me with an expressionless helm and a slight tilt that suggested he was already trying to decide whether I was a problem, a victim or something considerably more complicated. I knew enough about magic to understand that people who were genuinely dangerous rarely needed to advertise the fact, and Fate did not strike me as the sort who would throw spells around merely to make an impression. At least, he was no Babidi…gods how I love squishing that gnat under my boot now and then when I want to relieve some stress.
I gave both men a brief nod, deciding that introductions could wait. There was one other presence in the room that made everything else seem insignificant, and I had been trying to work out why he was here ever since he arrived. The Grand Minister had appeared without warning, undid all the damage and then moved us all into the Watchtower as though it were a room in his own home, after having restored half a continent with a click of his fingers, and then calmly announced that we needed to have a conversation. That was not normal, even by my standards.
I had spent years working for Chronoa and the Time Patrol, and I had learned very quickly that there were levels of authority in our cosmology that were better not questioned. Chronoa could be exasperating, but she was still the Supreme Kai of Time and the person responsible for an organisation that dealt with threats capable of damaging history itself. The Grand Minister stood above even the Angels, however, and that made his presence here particularly strange.
I had tried to contact other Time Patrollers after I arrived in this universe. I had tried Chronoa. I had tried every route I could think of, and nothing had worked. There had been silence from my side of reality for weeks. Then, after all that, the Grand Minister himself appeared. It didn't make sense. This was an emergency, certainly, but I couldn't help thinking that it was beneath the attention of the man who served directly beneath Zeno. There were universes to oversee, Angels to supervise, Destroyers to manage, and an entire hierarchy of gods that depended upon him. Why come personally for me? I had done plenty of stupid things over the years (many of which I'd concealed), but I didn't think I'd become important enough to warrant this sort of attention.
The Grand Minister seemed to notice my thoughts before I voiced them. He stood at the head of the room with the same gentle expression he always wore, hands folded loosely behind him, his posture almost impossibly relaxed. He looked exactly as I remembered him from home: small, elegant, blue-skinned, dressed in dark formal clothing, white hair immaculate, with that strange luminous halo hovering behind him like a permanent reminder that ordinary rules did not quite apply to him.
"Before we begin," he said, looking around the room, "I believe it would be appropriate for everyone here to understand precisely who I am and why I have come. My title is Grand Minister. I serve the Omni-King, Lord Zeno, who is the supreme sovereign of our cosmological order." His voice was quiet enough that nobody had to strain to hear it, yet somehow it carried perfectly through the room. "Lord Zeno possesses authority over all twelve universes within our primary cosmological jurisdiction. He is not a conventional deity, nor is his position comparable to that of your world's gods. His authority is absolute within the hierarchy that governs my reality." He paused politely, allowing that statement to settle. "You need not introduce yourselves. I have already been provided with a considerable amount of information concerning each of you."
Batman was the first to respond. Of course he was. You know, in a room full of godlike beings, why was he able to take charge of such a room when he was just human in a really bad bat costume?…I guess he has some nifty gadgets.
"Then you already know who we are," he said, his voice controlled and suspicious. "So let's skip the formalities. Why are you here, and why is he here with you?"
He gestured toward me with the slightest movement of his head. There was no accusation in the gesture, but there didn't need to be. Batman had been suspicious of me from the moment he'd first seen me, and I suspected he would remain suspicious even if I spent the next fifty years saving people. Can't fault him for that either. If someone who looked like me had appeared in my universe claiming to be stranded from another reality, then proceeded to fight Superman, destroy a planet and casually reveal that he could have done considerably worse, I'd probably keep a close eye on him too.
Did I take it too far?
I looked toward the Grand Minister, expecting him to answer, but he merely gave me a small nod. That was enough. I took a breath and leaned back against the edge of the table, suddenly aware that I was going to have to explain the most ridiculous sequence of events of my life to people who had already seen me destroy a planet.
"I was on a Time Patrol mission. We're an organisation ordained by the Goddess of Time to root out and eliminate problems that threaten the temporal stability of our multiverse." I began, looking from Batman to Superman and then around the rest of the room. "The enemy was Demigra. He's a demon god, a recurring problem, and considerably more difficult to keep dead than most people I've fought. He had acquired something called the Universe Seed, which was already dangerous before he got his hands on it. He expanded it with energy from a place called the Demon Realm, a plane of existence separate to the conventional multiverse that is not subject to the normal space-time continuum. Eventually it became something much larger. When I finally defeated him, he decided that losing wasn't acceptable and detonated the whole thing." I paused because even saying it aloud sounded absurd. I'd seen the bastard get desperate before but that was extreme even for a madman like him. I continued. "The energy contained inside it was equivalent to several universes, at least by our estimates. I powered up as far as I could and intercepted the blast because my friend was caught in the middle of it. I used my own energy to redirect as much of the explosion as possible and absorb the rest of the impact. I wasn't exactly thinking about where I would end up afterwards." I glanced toward the Grand Minister. "Which brings me to the question I've been trying to get answered since I woke up here. Is there any news about Trunks?"
The room became noticeably quieter. Even Batman's suspicion seemed to give way to something more human for a moment. I could see Flash seem to snicker about something even with the gravity of the situation. The Grand Minister's expression softened, though I could tell from the movement of his eyes that he had expected the question.
"Unfortunately, no," he said. "The fate of Trunks remains unknown. We have not been able to establish his exact location or condition."
I felt something tighten in my chest despite myself. Trunks had survived enough impossible situations that I had developed an unhealthy assumption that he would always somehow come through them. That wasn't rational, and I knew it. I had watched worlds disappear. I had seen people stronger than Trunks die because they happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong moment. Still, there was something different about not knowing.
"There is, however, reason to believe that he may have crossed into this reality as well," the Grand Minister continued. "The breach created by the event did not appear to discriminate between the matter and energy caught within its vicinity. Your friend was very close to you when the detonation occurred, and it is entirely plausible that he was carried through the same rupture."
"Then why haven't you found him?" Batman asked.
The Grand Minister turned his attention toward him. "Because this reality is immeasurably larger than our home cosmology, and because the disturbance has made conventional tracking extremely unreliable. We have searched where we can, but locating one individual within a cosmology of this scale is rather different from locating someone within a contained set of twelve universes."
Batman's eyes narrowed slightly at that.
"You mean this universe is larger than yours?" Superman asked.
"Considerably," the Grand Minister replied. "The structure you inhabit is not merely another universe in the conventional sense. It contains territories, dimensions, realms and metaphysical structures whose scale makes comparison difficult. Even with the resources available to us, finding one displaced mortal among all of that is not a simple matter."
I looked away for a moment. That wasn't particularly comforting. Trunks could be anywhere. A planet, a city, a pocket dimension, some strange magical realm, or perhaps somewhere I couldn't even imagine. The thought of him being alone in an unfamiliar reality bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
"What exactly happened when you crossed over?" Superman asked. "You've called it a fissure. Is that literally what it is?"
The Grand Minister inclined his head. "It is being called the Breach. The name is the most popular in circulation amongst those involved in dealing with it. The incident tore open a fissure between two entirely separate cosmologies. Your reality and ours are not neighbouring universes in a shared system, nor are they merely distant regions of the same creation. They are fundamentally separate structures governed by different metaphysical principles." He lifted one hand slightly, and a small image of light appeared above his palm. It was not a map so much as an abstract representation of two enormous fields of existence, each composed of layers upon layers that I recognised only vaguely. "The fissure passed from our side into yours, and it appears to have crossed into territory governed by another supreme deity. That is why the situation is unprecedented. We have never had to deal with an accidental connection of this nature." He paused, and for the first time since arriving, I saw something resembling genuine concern cross his face. "More troubling still, the fissure did not merely pass through ordinary space. It sliced through something known here as the Source Wall."
I looked around the room. Nobody spoke. But Constantine did.
"Oh, bloody hell." He had been leaning against the wall with his arms folded, but he straightened immediately. The casual expression disappeared from his face, replaced by something considerably more serious. "You said the Source Wall?" he asked. The Grand Minister nodded. Constantine rubbed a hand across his mouth and stared at the image for several seconds. "That's not a wall in the sense that most people are going to understand the word," he said, looking toward the League. "It's one of the boundaries around the whole damn structure of existence. Or part of it, depending on who you ask. Gods, cosmic entities, people who've gone poking around where they shouldn't have—there are all sorts of stories about what lies beyond it and what happens when you get too close." He looked at me. "You punched through that?"
I shrugged. "I was dealing with an explosion containing enough energy to destroy several universes."
Constantine gave me a long, exhausted stare. "Right. Of course you were. Why wouldn't you be?"
Fate finally spoke, his voice far more measured than Constantine's, even if it sounded like he was talking into an echo chamber within that helmet. "The Source Wall is not simply a physical barrier. It represents a boundary between the ordered creation we know and whatever exists beyond it. Its exact nature is debated even among those who have encountered it directly. If the fissure truly passed through it, then the implications are considerably more serious than a breach between two universes." His eyes moved toward the Grand Minister. "Does your cosmology have an equivalent structure?"
"Not an exact equivalent," the Grand Minister replied. "Our cosmology has its own boundaries and governing principles, but nothing precisely corresponding to what you describe. That difference is one reason our attempts to model the breach have been difficult."
The Lantern called John frowned. "So something from our side was damaged too?"
"Yes," the Grand Minister said. "That is the other important discovery."
I felt my attention sharpen. "Are you saying something happened on this side too?"
"Yes." The Grand Minister's gaze moved slowly around the room. "Our examination of the fissure from our side revealed that the damage was not entirely one-directional. There were signs of severe structural disturbance originating within your cosmology as well. We cannot yet determine precisely what caused it, nor can we establish whether the event occurred immediately before our breach reached your reality or whether the two disturbances developed independently." He paused. "The most likely explanation at present is that two separate wounds in reality happened to intersect. The resulting collision produced a stable connection where none should have existed."
Constantine swore under his breath. Batman immediately asked, "You're saying the breach wasn't caused entirely by him?"
The Grand Minister glanced at me. "No. Bardock's actions and that of his adversary were undoubtedly responsible for the damage originating from his side, but our evidence indicates that your reality was already experiencing an event of comparable significance. The two disturbances appear to have encountered one another."
"So put simply, we were just hella unlucky." Hal said.
"Extremely," Constantine replied before the Grand Minister could answer. "Imagine two people setting fire to two separate buildings, and then somehow the buildings collapse into each other at exactly the same bloody moment. Except the buildings are reality itself, and the fires are things that can rip holes through dimensions." He looked toward Batman. "That's the short version."
Batman's expression didn't change. "And the long version?"
Constantine sighed. "The long version is that we're all in considerably more trouble than I'd like."
I had to admit that Constantine had a talent for making bad news sound worse than it already was. I glanced at Fate, who seemed to share that assessment without saying so. He was just content to fold his arms and have that golden cape of his flap in a non-existent wind in this steel laid chamber in a space station.
I folded my own arms and looked at the Grand Minister. "All right. If the breach is stable, you've found out what happened, and there are people on both sides trying to contain it, then I should be able to go home now, right?" I asked it as simply as I could.
The answer came almost immediately, and I knew from the Grand Minister's expression that I wasn't going to like it.
"No, Bardock. You cannot return at present."
I frowned. "Why?"
He regarded me with the patient expression of someone explaining something to a child who had just asked why gravity existed. "Because the breach has fed upon your energy."
I stared at him. "What?"
"The energy released during your intervention was absorbed into the structure of the fissure itself. You were not merely transported through it. Your power became part of the event itself. The breach has already taken a considerable amount from you, which is one reason your energy pathways have been behaving so strangely since you arrived. You still haven't recovered them properly even in the span of 90,000 Takks."
"That's a month in Earth time." I explained to the puzzled looks around the room. I looked down at my hands. That explained more than I wanted it to. The strange sensation in my body, the transformations collapsing, the feeling that my power was present but somehow difficult to reach, the way Wrath had returned only after I'd pushed myself into the fight with the League, and even then it lacked the purity with which I'd previously known it. It had all seemed like damage at first. Maybe it still was. But now I understood that the problem went deeper. "If I approach the Breach again," I said slowly, "it could drain more."
"Yes."
"How much more?"
The Grand Minister's expression became serious. "Enough that it may kill you."
Nobody said anything after that. Even I didn't have a clever response.
"And if I die near it?" I asked.
"You may provide it with even more energy. That could cause the fissure to expand."
I let out a long breath and leaned back against the table. "So I'm effectively radioactive huh? Not a word someone's used to describe me before."
Constantine gave me a sideways glance. "Hell of a way to put it though, lad."
"It's accurate enough." I replied.
Superman looked toward the Grand Minister. "Then what happens if the Breach keeps growing?"
"That is precisely what the ruling powers of both cosmologies are attempting to prevent," he said. "At present, containment is the priority. Closing it is considerably more difficult. The Breach is not a conventional portal that can simply be sealed from either side. It is now an active wound connecting two separate structures of reality, and both sides are exerting enormous effort to prevent further destabilisation."
Wonder Woman's expression hardened. "Who are these ruling powers?" she asked.
"Those with authority appropriate to your cosmology are handling matters on your side. On ours, the highest authorities are doing the same. The situation has therefore become a matter of maintaining equilibrium rather than simply defeating an enemy."
I nodded slowly. That sounded exactly like the sort of problem gods hated. There was no opponent to punch. No army to overwhelm. No obvious target to destroy. Just an enormous wound that had to be prevented from becoming worse. I was in for an earful from Beerus when I got home someday. I might even lose my position as his successor…maybe. I'm not all that bothered about it to be honest.
"Then why doesn't Grand Zeno deal with it?" I asked.
That question changed the room again. The Grand Minister answered without hesitation. "Lord Zeno would very much like to resolve the matter personally, but he has given one instruction that takes precedence at present." He looked directly at me. "He wants you returned safely."
I blinked. "Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The Grand Minister's expression softened into something almost amused. "Because you are a member of his close circle, Bardock. Lord Zeno has taken a particular liking to you, as he did to your uncle before you, and he does not appreciate the idea that one of his companions has become stranded in an unknown cosmology."
I scratched the back of my head. "He could just erase the breach."
"Perhaps." the Grand Minister said. "But doing so without understanding what lies on the other side could have consequences neither he nor the other ruling powers are willing to risk. Moreover, the breach is interacting with structures beyond our jurisdiction. Even Lord Zeno's authority must be considered carefully when dealing with a cosmology that is not part of his own creation."
That made sense, although I suspected there was more to it than he was saying. Zeno could erase universes. I'd seen him do it. But erasing something that connected two completely different cosmologies was not the same as deleting one of our universes. There was too much uncertainty.
"And the supreme god here?" I asked. "Why doesn't he close it?"
The Grand Minister was silent for a moment, and I found myself watching him carefully. He rarely hesitated. "The supreme deity of this cosmology appears to be known by several titles," he said eventually. "One of the more commonly recognised is The Presence."
Constantine's face tightened at that name. Something in Fate's posture became unreadable. Even Superman seemed to notice the change in atmosphere.
"He has not intervened?" Wonder Woman asked.
"Not so far."
"Why?" Batman asked.
I thought I sensed some sort of realization in him accompanied by a kind of unease…and some sort of refusal. A non-believer perhaps? I'd researched all the religions I could in this world and the mainstream ones appeared to be monotheistically aligned, talking about a supreme God above all others. That sounded like a close fit to this 'Presence' but what are the chances the beliefs of one insignificant planet in this supposedly much larger cosmology were the right interpretation? In any case, Batsy seemed to be one of those 'agnostics'.
"We do not know." The Grand Minister answered the woman I was certain was some sort of demigod.
I frowned. "You don't know?"
"No," the Grand Minister replied. "The Presence appears to be an unusually distant and obscure supreme deity. The available evidence suggests that he is aware of the situation, but he has chosen not to intervene directly."
Constantine gave a humourless laugh. "Sounds like him alright."
Batman turned towards him. "Meaning?"
Constantine shook his head. "Meaning don't ask me to explain the mind of God, mate. I've spent half my life trying not to be noticed by beings like that." He glanced at Fate. "Besides, if the big man upstairs wanted to do something, I'm fairly sure we'd know about it."
Fate turned his helm in the chainsmoker's direction. "That is not necessarily true, John."
Constantine shrugged. "Didn't say it was. Just said I'd prefer not to test the theory."
I found myself liking him again, though he could use a breath mint. He had the sort of survival instinct that usually came from experience rather than cowardice. He seemed to be more informed about metaphysics and cosmology than the other clowns in here. I'm sorry, they might be powerful but their costumes are ridiculous. As if Gohan's stupid Saiyaman fit wasn't worth a lifetime of cringe.
"So Zeno wants me home," I said, "and the Presence isn't doing anything."
"At present, yes."
"Then why can't I just wait here until someone fixes it?"
The Grand Minister smiled faintly. "Because you have responsibilities."
I stared at him. "You're joking."
"I assure you, Bardock, I am not."
I groaned and covered my face with one hand. "Of course I have responsibilities."
It was exactly the sort of answer I'd expected from him, which somehow made it worse. I'd spent years doing Time Patrol work because I wanted to help people and because I genuinely believed in what Chronoa was doing (and because Whis was being petty). I'd accepted the Destroyer position because Kakarot and Vegeta had somehow decided that the perfect solution to their refusal to accept cosmically significant responsibility was to foist it on me instead. I'd taken on missions for Zeno because despite his whimsical total erasure of anything he didn't like, I cared about the little guy. I am completely aware of what he is but he's a childlike being, very easy to appease and get along with if you keep him happy. And it cost me nothing to indulge his curiosities. It was usually fun anyway. Now I had crossed into another cosmology, destroyed a planet to make a point (which I'm about ninety-percent sure was necessary), flattened part of Antarctica and somehow acquired an interdimensional catastrophe as a side effect, and the answer was still that I had work to do.
"What responsibilities?" Batman asked.
The Grand Minister looked toward him, then back at me.
"There are two matters that require Bardock's attention while he remains within this cosmology," he said. "The first is the search for Time Patroller Trunks. As I explained, we believe he may have crossed through the breach and recovering him is now one of Bardock's priorities. We will continue searching from our side, but he knows his friend better than anyone else here and may recognise signs or circumstances that our observers would overlook."
I nodded. That one made sense. Trunks wasn't just a mission objective. He was my friend. If he was somewhere in this universe, I was going to find him.
"And the second?" Batman asked.
The Grand Minister's eyes settled on me. "There is also another object that crossed through the breach." Something about the way he said it made me pay attention. "One of Zalama's wish orbs."
Nobody reacted, because why would they? They didn't know what he was talking about, or the implications but I did. My head lifted immediately. "Which one?"
"The four-starred sphere."
For several seconds I simply stared at him. (Side note, of course it had to be the Four Star ball). And I knew exactly what that meant. The others didn't, and judging by their faces, they had no idea why the words had suddenly made me look considerably more serious. To them it probably sounded like another magical artefact, perhaps some mystical object belonging to another god. It wasn't.
The Dragon Balls were powerful enough on their own, but Zalama's original wish orbs were something else entirely. The Super Dragon Balls weren't simply larger versions of the ones on Earth. They were the source of wishes on a scale that ordinary Dragon Balls could not approach, and the being who created them existed on a level that made most gods look insignificant. So much so that both Omni-Kings take a stand for him when he appears. A single Super Dragon Ball could become a weapon if someone malicious enough with the know-how obtained it, and the four-starred one had now fallen somewhere into an alien cosmology that was already unstable. I felt a headache beginning behind my eyes.
"The what?" Flash asked. I ignored him for a moment.
"You're certain?" I asked the Grand Minister.
"Yes."
"How far from the breach?"
"We do not know. It floated in right after you."
"Can you track it somehow?"
"Not reliably. As I said, this universe if vastly bigger than Universe 7. I doubt that even the upgraded radar created by the human Bulma would be much help, assuming it could survive the journey over."
I swore under my breath.
Batman noticed immediately. "Bardock." I looked toward him as he posed another demand. "What is it?"
I hesitated. From what I knew and what I'd gathered, it looked like explaining something to Batman was useful and yet there would be times when it merely created more questions from him than it answered. This was probably going to be one of the latter.
"It's an orb." I said eventually. "It's able to grant wishes."
Shazam blinked. "You mean like a genie lamp?"
"No. Such a comparison would be an insult." I looked around the room. "This is different."
"How different?" Superman asked.
I sighed. "Imagine taking every wish-granting artefact you've ever heard of and then making it vastly more powerful. Then imagine giving the set of them to a dragon capable of granting wishes on a universal scale. Then imagine that there are seven of them, each enormous enough to be mistaken for a planet if you didn't know what you were looking at. That's closer."
Constantine's cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth. "Right," he said quietly. "That's considerably worse than I expected."
"How powerful is the wish?" Fate asked.
"Powerful doesn't even begin to describe it." I answered. "Zalama's wish orbs can grant wishes that ordinary orbs can't. Each one is three times wider than Earth. The lesser ones from the Earth of my universe can fit in my palm and wishing for things like resurrection and immortality is just the tip of the iceberg to what they can do. And they were formed from little chips broken off from Zalama's orbs. Now imagine the scale of what the real things can do. There is no wish too grand for them." I looked toward the Grand Minister. "And one of them is just sitting somewhere in this universe."
He nodded. "Precisely. That is why it must be recovered before someone else discovers it."
Batman folded his arms. "And only you can find it?"
"No." I paused, then looked toward the windows and the endless darkness beyond them. "That's the problem. I don't know where to start. But I know what I'm looking for."
"So if somebody gets their hands on it, they can wish for anything and they'll have it?" Shazam asked me.
"No. You need the whole set, all seven orbs. The other six are back in my multiverse. But that doesn't mean the energy of the four star ball can't be used for something nefarious."
Everyone seemed to arrive at the same conclusion without needing to say it. The universe was enormous; the Breach was unstable. Trunks was missing, and a Super Dragon Ball was somewhere beyond the reach of everything I knew, floating in the vast expanse of this reality. And I couldn't go home.
I stood there for a while, listening to the hum of the Watchtower's machinery and the faint voices of the League talking quietly among themselves. I should have been angry. Maybe I was. I was tired of being stranded, tired of having my body treated like a damaged machine that nobody quite understood, tired of watching people from another universe stare at me like I was some sort of volatile substance…granted I didn't much help the image. Most of all, I wanted to know that Trunks was alive. I wanted to know that Chronoa was all right, that the Time Patrol was still functioning, that everyone back home understood what had happened. But beneath all of that was something simpler. I wanted to go home. I wanted to sit down at Chi-Chi's table and eat one of her bentos. I wanted Goku to annoy me about something stupid. I wanted to hear Vegeta complain about being called "His Majesty" and then pretend he wasn't amused. I wanted to see Kansei. I wanted to know that the people I loved were still there.
Instead, I was standing in a room full of strangers beneath a planet that wasn't mine, discussing a hole in reality with a god who had crossed an impossible distance to find me. The Grand Minister looked at me, and I knew from the expression on his face that he understood exactly what I was thinking.
"You're going to be all right, Bardock." he said quietly with a smile. "Universe Seven has quite the record of overcoming impossible odds and surviving against even the estimation of the gods. I have confidence you'll more than live up to that legacy.
I gave him a tired smile. "I know. You've always been good to me sir."
"In spite of certain aspects of your conduct." He gave me a knowing look.
Yeah, there's no way he doesn't know I'm boning his daughter. But he seems to take a guilty pleasure in making me fidget in the uncertainty by not coming out and confronting it directly.
Fucking angels…literally.
-+-
-General POV-
For several moments after the Grand Minister's final words, the Watchtower conference chamber remained unusually quiet. The League had heard enough in the preceding hour to make silence preferable to another immediate question, and even Flash, who appeared constitutionally incapable of allowing a room to remain solemn for more than thirty consecutive seconds, seemed content to let the information settle.
Superman stood with his arms folded loosely across his chest, his attention moving between Batman and the Grand Minister as though trying to determine which of the two was more likely to have another unpleasant revelation waiting in reserve. Wonder Woman remained beside him, thoughtful rather than suspicious, while John Stewart and Hal Jordan had drifted a little closer to the table where the Watchtower's systems were displaying a constantly shifting model of the Breach, courtesy of the angel sharing some data.
Flash had stopped fidgeting. Shazam was staring at the projection with an expression considerably more serious than the one he had worn during the earlier confrontation, and J'onn J'onzz had remained almost perfectly still, his red eyes fixed upon Bardock with the quiet attentiveness of someone who had learned that the Saiyan often said more with a pause than he did with his actual words. Batman alone seemed entirely unaffected by the silence, though that was largely because Bruce Wayne had perfected the art of appearing unaffected by things which would have unsettled almost anyone else. It was therefore almost surprising when the Grand Minister turned slightly toward Bardock and made a small gesture with two fingers, indicating that he wished to speak with him privately.
Bardock noticed immediately. He glanced toward the others, then back at the Grand Minister, and there was a brief flicker of curiosity across his face before he followed. They did not go far. The Grand Minister simply moved toward the broad observation windows overlooking the curvature of Earth, stopping near the far side of the chamber where the conversations of the League would be muted enough that their words would not carry clearly. It is worthwhile to note however, that Clark suddenly found his super-hearing wasn't helping him now, though it wasn't enough to alarm him. Enough absurdity had been dropped on his head in the past hour.
Bardock followed with his hands resting loosely at his sides, his expression becoming more attentive as he sensed the change in the Grand Minister's demeanour. It was subtle, so subtle that none of the League seemed to notice it, but Bardock had known the man long enough to recognise the difference between the Grand Minister explaining something and the Grand Minister considering something he did not particularly wish to explain. There was no alarm in him, nor any visible fear, but there was a degree of caution that Bardock had seen only a handful of times before, usually when the Grand Minister was dealing with matters that involved the structure of reality rather than the affairs of individual universes. Bardock stopped beside him and looked through the glass at Earth below, then tilted his head slightly.
"All right," he murmured, keeping his voice low enough that the others would not hear. "That look usually means either I'm in trouble or you've remembered another responsibility I forgot about."
The Grand Minister's mouth curved very slightly. "Neither, strictly speaking. Though given your history, I suppose both remain possibilities."
Bardock gave him a sideways look. "That's reassuring."
The Grand Minister allowed the remark to pass without comment, his attention remaining upon the planet below them for another moment before he spoke again. "There is something I have not told the others, Bardock, because I am not yet certain that it is significant, and I would prefer not to introduce an unnecessary conclusion into a room already filled with uncertainties."
The humour faded from Bardock's expression. "That certainly sounds significant."
"It may not be." the Grand Minister replied calmly. "That is precisely the difficulty. There are aspects of the Breach which conform to what we would expect from a collision between two damaged cosmological structures, even if it's the first of its kind. The sequence of events is plausible. The energies involved are consistent with such an occurrence. Your intervention, the destruction of the Universe Seed, the disturbance within this cosmology, and the eventual formation of the fissure can all be arranged into a chain of cause and effect that does not require anything beyond coincidence." He paused then, and the slight narrowing of his eyes was the first indication that coincidence was not entirely satisfying him. "And yet there are certain details which do not sit comfortably within that explanation."
Bardock turned fully toward him. "Such as?"
The Grand Minister was silent for several seconds, and the pause itself made Bardock more attentive. "There are things about the Breach that I cannot properly explain to you," he said eventually. "Not because you lack intelligence, but because understanding them requires a perspective that comes only with experience. There are distinctions between an event occurring within reality and an event being made to occur within reality. Mortals often perceive only the first. Gods, particularly those who have spent considerable time observing the structure beneath existence, learn to recognise the second."
Bardock's brow furrowed. "You're saying somebody made it happen?"
"I am saying that I do not yet know." The Grand Minister's answer was immediate and precise. "There is a difference, and it is an important one. I would not have you mistake suspicion for knowledge."
Bardock looked back through the glass, watching the blue sphere of Earth turn slowly beneath them. "But you still suspect it."
"I suspect that the possibility should not be dismissed."
Bardock was quiet for a moment, then scratched the side of his jaw. "So what makes you think someone engineered it?" he asked.
The Grand Minister considered him before answering. "There are several indications, but one in particular has caused me to reconsider the circumstances surrounding the Breach." His hand lifted gently, palm upward, and a small sphere of pale light appeared above it. "When the fissure first formed, observers on our side detected a series of unusual markings within the distortion. They were dismissed at first as distortions caused by the energies involved. There were too many competing signatures for anyone to assume they represented deliberate construction."
Bardock leaned closer as the light expanded. "And?"
"The same type of marking was found on this side."
Bardock's expression changed immediately. "The exact same?"
"Not merely similar. The same structure, though not necessarily interpreted in the same fashion." The Grand Minister's voice remained quiet. "It almost escaped notice because the markings do not remain visually stable in the conventional sense. They occupy the fabric of the Breach rather than appearing upon its surface, and they appear differently depending upon the observer."
Bardock looked at the growing projection. "Show me."
The Grand Minister's fingers moved slightly, and the light between them unfolded into a three-dimensional image. At first it looked almost meaningless. Several angular shapes emerged within the pale projection, arranged in a pattern that possessed the vague impression of writing without resembling any language Bardock had encountered. The symbols were neither Saiyan nor Galactic, neither Demon Realm script nor anything associated with the Supreme Kais. They looked ancient without actually appearing worn, geometric without being mechanical, and deliberate in a way that made Bardock instinctively narrow his eyes. The strange part was that the projection never actually changed. The Grand Minister's hand remained still, the symbols remained exactly where they had been, and yet Bardock could have sworn that something about them moved whenever he looked directly at them. He blinked once and the sensation vanished, only to return when he looked again.
"That's odd," he muttered.
"I know." The Grand Minister watched him closely. "Tell me what you see."
Bardock frowned as he squinted closer, taking care to not blink. "I see writing."
"What does it say?"
Bardock hesitated. The shapes had begun to make sense, though not in the way ordinary writing did. It was almost as if the symbols were bypassing his eyes altogether and presenting themselves directly to his understanding, translating themselves into something he could recognise without actually changing their form. The longer he looked at them, the more certain he became that he was reading words despite the fact that no words were visibly present.
He slowly sounded them out under his breath. "Nobody Ever Knew the Real Omniversal Sovereign."
The Grand Minister did not react immediately. Bardock looked at him. "That's what it says to me."
For the first time since their conversation had begun, the Grand Minister's expression became difficult to read. "Interesting."
Bardock stared at him. "Interesting? That's all you've got?"
The Grand Minister's eyes remained upon the projection. "What would you like me to say?"
Bardock gestured toward the symbols. "Maybe that it isn't completely insane."
"It is not necessarily insane," the Grand Minister replied.
Bardock's eyebrows rose. "That's not exactly comforting either."
The Grand Minister gave a quiet breath that might almost have been amusement. "The difficulty is that I do not know what it means."
Bardock looked back at the symbols. "You said it was found on both sides."
"Yes."
"And it changes depending on who's looking at it?"
"The symbols themselves do not change. The interpretation does."
Bardock folded his arms. "So what does it say to you?"
The Grand Minister's gaze remained on the projection for another long moment before he dismissed it with a small movement of his fingers. "Something different."
Bardock waited. When the Grand Minister offered nothing further, he frowned. "You're not going to tell me."
"I am telling you that the interpretation differs."
"That's a very Grand Minister answer."
The older being's smile returned faintly. "And yours is a very Bardock-like remark."
Bardock sighed and looked toward the League. "Does any of this mean anything to you?" he asked.
The Grand Minister's response was a small shake of his head, though it was not quite a denial. Bardock knew that expression. It meant perhaps, but not yet. It meant there is information you do not possess clearance for. Most importantly, it meant that the Grand Minister had no intention of handing him an answer merely because he wanted one.
Bardock's eyes narrowed. "You know something."
"I know that there is something I do not understand."
"That's completely different. Honestly, learning under you just shows me how much Whis is your son. You're both so cryptic sometimes."
The Grand Minister looked at him with the patient expression of a teacher dealing with a student who had correctly identified the existence of a problem without yet understanding its nature. "You must resist the temptation to give meaning to something simply because it frightens you or because it appears mysterious. The markings may be evidence of deliberate interference. They may also be the remnants of something neither side yet understands. Until we have more information, either conclusion would be premature."
Bardock considered that and eventually nodded. "Fair enough." He glanced back toward the League. "But if someone did engineer this, they're not exactly playing around."
"No," the Grand Minister said quietly. "They are not."
There was something in the way he said it that made Bardock look at him again, but the Grand Minister had already turned away, his expression returning to its usual serenity. Whatever concern lay beneath it, he was not going to reveal it here. Bardock accepted that, though he did not like it. He had learned long ago that when someone like the Grand Minister deliberately withheld information, forcing the issue rarely produced anything useful.
When the two of them returned to the others, the conversation had already resumed. Batman stood near the central display, one hand resting against the table while a three-dimensional representation of the Watchtower's surrounding airspace rotated slowly before him. Superman and Wonder Woman stood opposite him, with John Stewart and Hal Jordan nearby. Constantine had occupied one of the chairs without asking permission, his long coat draped around him as though he had every intention of staying until somebody found a reason to throw him out. Dr Fate remained standing, the golden helmet reflecting the room's pale lighting, while Flash and Shazam had moved toward the back of the chamber. J'onn's attention shifted toward Bardock the instant he entered, though the Martian said nothing. Batman, however, looked directly at him and then at the Grand Minister.
"We were discussing what happens now."
Bardock stopped beside the Grand Minister. "I gathered that."
Batman's expression remained impassive. "The immediate problem is that you're stranded here, the Breach is unstable, and we have no reliable way of determining where your friend might have emerged within our reality."
Bardock nodded. "And?"
"And Earth has laws, borders, institutions, and people who aren't going to appreciate an unknown extraterrestrial with enough power to destroy a planet operating without oversight."
Bardock's eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean you don't trust me. I guess that's fair."
Superman stepped in before Batman could answer. "It's not that simple."
Bardock looked at him. "No, it really is. I get it. I'm a stranger to your world and your ways."
Clark's expression was earnest. "We don't know you well enough yet. We've fought you. We've seen what happens when you stop holding back. We know you don't appear to want to hurt innocent people, but we also know that your idea of restraint isn't always the same as ours."
Bardock considered that. "That's fair too." What could he say to that? Batman glanced at him, perhaps surprised by the easy concession. Bardock continued before anyone could mistake it for surrender. "But I'm not taking orders from the Justice League."
Batman's eyes hardened slightly. "Nobody said you were."
"You were about to, don't even try to deny it."
"I was going to propose cooperation."
"That sounds suspiciously like orders with better manners."
Hal Jordan snorted from the side. "He's got you there, Bruce." Batman gave him a look that would have made a lesser man stop smiling. Hal merely raised both hands. "What? I'm just saying."
Bardock looked between them and shook his head. "You people really do this often, don't you?"
Wonder Woman stepped forward, her expression composed. "We do not seek to command you because we believe ourselves superior to you. We seek an arrangement because your presence here affects everyone around you."
Bardock met her gaze. "I can understand that."
"Then perhaps you understand why we cannot simply allow you to act entirely according to your own judgement."
Bardock folded his arms. "And perhaps you understand why I'm not going to let a group of strangers tell me what I can and can't do just because I happen to be stranded on their planet."
Diana's expression did not change, but there was the faintest suggestion of approval in her eyes as she observed a fellow warrior. "Yes. I understand that as well."
Superman glanced between them. "Then we're not as far apart as it sounds."
Batman, however, remained unconvinced. "We still need boundaries."
"Agreed." Bardock said pointedly as he held the Dark Knight's glare, his own gaze sharpening. "But what kind? The ones only I can't cross, or ones that apply to both of us?"
Batman thought for a moment. "The same ones I'd expect if you came to my home."
"You would expect me to obey the laws of your planet?"
"If you were living here, yes."
"Even if I disagreed with them?"
"As much as possible. You don't have to like them." That answer caused Bardock's expression to soften just slightly. It was not a perfect solution, but it was a starting point.
Constantine finally spoke from his chair, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling despite the Watchtower's ventilation system. "Blimey, look at that. We're having a sensible conversation." He removed the cigarette from his mouth and looked toward Bardock. "For what it's worth, mate, I reckon the League's got a point. You're powerful enough that if you decide to do something particularly daft, there isn't much anyone on this planet can do about it."
Bardock gave him a flat look. "You say that like I'm planning something daft."
"I don't know you well enough to rule it out."
"Fair."
Constantine pointed his cigarette toward him. "But here's the thing. If the big man upstairs and all the cosmic sorts who work for him are content to have you here, I don't think we should be trying to play substitute gods."
Batman looked toward Constantine. "That's not what we're doing."
"No, you're doing something considerably more complicated. You're trying to keep the universe's strongest stray cat from knocking over the furniture."
Bardock stared at him. "Did you just call me a cat?"
"You have a tail." Constantine shrugged. "Work with me."
There was a brief ripple of amusement around the room, even from some of those who had spent the last several hours treating Bardock as a potential existential threat.
Constantine continued, his tone becoming more serious as he leaned forward. "Look, I've dealt with enough cosmic entities to know when somebody's operating above my pay grade. This Grand Minister here's clearly one of them. Fate's another matter entirely, but we'll leave that argument for another day. Point is, if the authorities from his side aren't telling us to lock you up, kill you, or throw you back through the Breach, then there's probably a reason for that."
Dr Fate turned his helmet slightly toward Constantine. "You presume much from silence."
Constantine gave him a sideways glance. "And you presume much from wearing a golden bucket on your head, but here we are."
"John." Superman warned, though he couldn't hide his mirth. The grumpy Brit's humour could sometimes be infectious.
Constantine smiled. "What? I'm keeping morale up."
Bardock had to suppress a laugh, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Batman noticed. "This isn't a joke."
Bardock looked at him. "I know." His expression became more serious. "But he's right about one thing. I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to judge me by what I actually do."
That answer changed the room more effectively than any argument could have. Superman looked at Bardock for several seconds before nodding. "That's reasonable."
Batman remained silent. Bardock continued, speaking without bravado now. "I can't promise I'll agree with everything you believe. I'm not going to suddenly start thinking like you just because I'm here. My morals came from somewhere else. So did my responsibilities. If you expect me to stop being myself, this isn't going to work."
Wonder Woman inclined her head. "Nor should it."
Bardock looked at her. "But I can listen. One doesn't become a Time Patroller without learning to be at least a little diplomatic." That was the important distinction, and everyone in the room seemed to recognise it. "If you think I've crossed a line, tell me. Explain why. I'll hear you out. Doesn't mean I'll always agree, but I'll hear you."
Superman smiled faintly. "That's probably more than most people give us."
Bardock snorted. "You're superheroes. People aren't exactly famous for listening to superheroes when they get told they're doing something wrong."
Flash raised a finger. "You'd be amazed."
Shazam looked at him. "Actually, I think that's kind of our entire problem."
"Exactly," Barry said. "See? He's learning already."
Batman finally stepped forward. "Then here's what I propose. You remain here under the League's oversight, not our command. We keep you informed about developments concerning the Breach, anything we might find on this Trunks character after you give us a description of him and this wish orb. In return, you keep us informed about what you're doing when your actions could affect populated areas or the security of Earth."
Bardock considered the terms carefully. "Define oversight."
Batman answered without hesitation. "We know where you are when practical. We know what you're investigating when it concerns this planet. If you're going somewhere or doing something dangerous, you tell us."
Bardock frowned. "You want me to file reports?"
"No."
"Good. I hate paperwork."
Batman's expression did not change. "I want communication and clarity."
Bardock considered that and nodded. "I can do that."
John Stewart folded his arms. "And if we believe you're about to make a decision that could put millions of people at risk?"
Bardock looked at him. "Then you tell me."
"And if you disagree?"
"Then we argue. We'll deliberate until the guy that sounds smarter wins in the end."
Hal Jordan smiled. "That sounds about right."
Bardock looked around the room. "But if something needs doing immediately and waiting for a committee meeting gets people killed, I'm acting."
Batman answered. "So would we."
Bardock nodded. "Then we're agreed."
There was still one person who had not spoken. J'onn J'onzz had watched the exchange with an almost meditative patience, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet enough that everyone else naturally gave him their attention. "There is something I would like clarified."
Bardock looked toward him. "Go ahead."
"You have repeatedly portrayed yourself as a defender of your Earth. You have also said that you do not enjoy harming those who cannot defend themselves."
Bardock nodded. "That's correct. I believe I have communicated that with enough clarity, yes." He gave Batman a side-eye.
J'onn's red eyes remained fixed upon him. "Yet you destroyed an entire planet in order to demonstrate your restraint to us."
The room became quiet again. Bardock's expression changed slightly. He knew that question would come eventually. He looked down for a moment before answering.
"Yes." Superman glanced at him, the memory all too fresh. Bardock continued, choosing his words carefully. "I understand why that bothered you. It's bothered some of my friends when I've made similar demonstrations. But I made a decision based on what I knew at the time. I needed you to understand what I could do, and I didn't want to demonstrate it on Earth. I chose a world I believed to be uninhabited."
J'onn nodded slowly. "And if you had been wrong?"
Bardock's jaw tightened. "Then I'd have been responsible for that mistake. That's another thing I've been made to learn."
That answer appeared to satisfy J'onn more than an attempt at justification would have. "Responsibility is important," the Martian said. "So is the willingness to examine one's own decisions after the fact."
"I agree." Bardock replied.
Batman watched him carefully. "Then understand this. We are not asking you to become a different person. We're asking you to understand that this Earth is not yours to decide the fate of."
Bardock met his gaze. There was no hostility in the exchange now, but there was certainly steel. "And I'm telling you that I understand that. This is kind of getting repetitive guys. I might be long lived but I can only tolerate being a parrot for so long." He looked around at the League, then toward the Earth beyond the windows. "I've spent most of my life dealing with places that aren't mine. Time Patrol taught me that you don't get to walk into somebody else's history and start changing things because you think you know better. If I wanted to do whatever I wanted, I wouldn't have spent decades answering to Chronoa."
Superman smiled slightly. "That sounds like a fairly strong endorsement of accountability."
Bardock sighed. "Don't tell Chronoa I said that. She'll become unbearable."
The Grand Minister had remained silent throughout the latter part of the discussion, watching the exchange with a quiet expression that gave away very little. When Bardock finally looked toward him, the older being gave the smallest nod. It was not an instruction, nor an endorsement of every word that had been spoken. It was simply recognition that the arrangement being formed was reasonable.
"I believe that is sufficient," the Grand Minister said.
Batman turned toward him. "You agree?"
"I do. I shall inform the Omni-king of this arrangement too." His gaze moved from Batman to Superman, Wonder Woman, John Stewart and finally Bardock. "Bardock has served as a defender of Earth within Universe Seven for a considerable period. He has responsibilities there which extend beyond simple combat. You should understand that he is not accustomed to functioning beneath the authority of a planetary organisation, but neither is he incapable of respecting one."
Batman nodded slowly. "That is good to know."
"Very much so." The Grand Minister folded his hands before him. "You are not required to command him. Nor is he required to surrender his judgement. What is required is that both sides communicate honestly when their interests overlap. It's no different to the situation between the gods of both these realities at the moment."
Bardock looked toward the Grand Minister. "So I'm basically on probation."
"If that description helps you understand the arrangement, you may use it."
Bardock groaned. "I hate probationary assignments. They're the worst, even more than cleaning all of Beerus's stairs in one evening."
"I'd say you have survived considerably more demanding circumstances. Or have we already forgotten how you came to be in this universe?"
"That's not the point, sire."
The Grand Minister smiled faintly. "I am aware." He then looked toward the League once more. "There is another matter I would ask of you. Please accommodate him."
Batman's brow furrowed. "Accommodate him how?"
"As you would any ally who has been displaced from his home and placed within circumstances he did not choose." The Grand Minister's voice remained gentle, but there was an unmistakable authority beneath it. "Bardock is not an invader. He did not seek this world, nor did he choose to become stranded here. He has already demonstrated a willingness to cooperate despite having every reason to be frustrated by his circumstances."
Superman nodded. "We can do that."
Wonder Woman followed. "He will be treated as an ally."
Batman's eyes remained on Bardock. "Provided he continues to act like one."
Bardock gave a small shrug. "I promise to not kick your pet poodle."
For the first time since the conversation had begun, the tension in the chamber seemed to ease properly. It did not disappear. Nobody was suddenly pretending that Bardock was harmless, nor had Batman abandoned his caution, nor had Bardock suddenly accepted the Justice League as his commanding officers. But there was a difference between distrust and vigilance, and the distinction mattered. Superman approached Bardock and offered his hand. Bardock looked at it for a second before taking it firmly.
"Welcome to Earth," Clark said.
Bardock looked around at the League, then back toward him. "Under protest."
Clark laughed quietly. "I'll take it."
Wonder Woman extended her hand next, and Bardock accepted it with considerably more respect. "You have my word that we will help you find your friend." she said.
Bardock's expression softened. "Thank you, fellow warrior."
John Stewart gave him a nod rather than a handshake. Hal Jordan offered one anyway. Flash immediately followed, then Shazam, who looked considerably less intimidated than he had earlier. Batman remained where he was, arms folded.
Bardock looked at him. "Nothing?"
Batman's expression remained unchanged. "We'll see how you do."
Bardock grinned. "That's probably the most Batman thing you could've said, and I haven't spent a full day undisturbed with you yet to know that."
Constantine stood from his chair and stretched, apparently satisfied that the meeting had reached the only conclusion likely to keep everyone from killing each other. "Well, that's that, then." He looked toward Bardock. "Try not to destroy any more planets while we're all getting acquainted."
Bardock looked at him with mock offence. "Once. I did it once."
"Once is generally considered enough." Dr Fate turned his helmet slightly toward Bardock. "Your presence will create disturbances within the magical structure of this world."
Bardock raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to apologise for that?"
"No." Fate's voice remained calm. "You are supposed to be aware of it. Your actions will have attracted the attention of many. Your very presence has disturbed order as we know it. As the person responsible for the surge in chaos, I would ask that you please help resettle it."
Bardock nodded. "Fair enough. All you had to do was ask."
Constantine pointed at the helmet. "See? That's how you say something ominous without making everyone miserable." Fate did not answer. Constantine sighed. "Worth a try."
Even Batman's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, though nobody commented on it.
The Grand Minister looked toward the observation windows. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, and Bardock noticed immediately. The conversation had ended. The man had been given all the time he was willing to spare, and whatever other duties awaited him were now calling.
Bardock's expression became quieter. "You have to go."
"I do."
Bardock looked down for a moment. There was no shame in the gesture, only the reluctant acceptance of another separation. The Grand Minister had been one of the few venerable figures in his life across the years, appearing in moments of instruction, crisis, reprimand and occasionally the sort of friendly gatherings that Bardock still found strange when compared with his childhood in Hell.
"Will you tell them I'm alive?" Bardock asked.
"They already know."
"Kansei too?"
The Grand Minister's expression softened very slightly. "Especially Kansei."
Bardock exhaled through his nose. "Good."
The Grand Minister's eyes narrowed with the faintest hint of amusement. "Though I suspect she is less concerned with your safety than you imagine."
Bardock rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. She's like that."
The Grand Minister raised one hand and the air turned inward upon itself as a portal formed. The League watched in silence. Even those accustomed to teleportation technology and magic regarded the sight with some fascination, because there was something fundamentally different about the Grand Minister's method. It did not appear to move him through space. It seemed to open a route between points of existence and simply decide that the distance between them no longer mattered. Bardock had seen him do similar things before, but never after being stranded in another cosmology. This time the sight carried a weight he could not ignore.
"Remember what we discussed," the Grand Minister said. "And remember what I told you about the markings."
Bardock nodded. "I will." His eyes moved toward the League.
Batman's attention shifted subtly between them. "What markings?"
The Grand Minister looked at him for a moment. "Something we're investigating."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "You haven't told us about them."
"No," the Grand Minister replied calmly. "I have not. Let the gods work as they do and let the mortals wait in patience."
Constantine's cigarette paused halfway to his mouth. "That sounds ominous."
The Grand Minister offered him a polite smile. "It is merely incomplete information."
Constantine stared at him. "That's what ominous people always call it."
The Grand Minister did not respond to that. Instead, he turned back toward Bardock. "You will be all right," he said once more.
Bardock gave him a crooked smile. "I know."
The Grand Minister inclined his head. "Then I shall leave you to your new allies."
Bardock glanced toward Batman and then back at him. "The way you say it makes it sound like I'm being left with babysitters."
"I would never imply such a thing." The Grand Minister's smile became slightly more pronounced. "Though I suspect Batman here may appreciate the responsibility."
Batman's expression remained completely unreadable.
"I already regret this." Bardock laughed quietly, and for a brief moment the weight of the previous hours seemed to lift from his shoulders. The Grand Minister stepped backward into the swirling portal, his form beginning to disappear into the layers of impossible colour.
"Take care of yourself, Saiyan Bardock. May we meet again in His Majesty's kingdom."
"For the Omni King."
The portal began to close, and just before the last sliver vanished, the Grand Minister added with impeccable calm, "And try to avoid causing any additional interdimensional incidents."
Bardock stared at the empty air after the portal disappeared. "No promises."
For several seconds nobody spoke. The chamber seemed strangely larger without the Grand Minister standing within it, though nothing about its physical dimensions had changed. Bardock remained where he was, staring at the place where the portal had been, his expression thoughtful. The League had watched the exchange closely, and now that their most powerful mediator had departed, the reality of the arrangement they had just reached became considerably more apparent. There was no cosmic authority standing between them anymore. No Grand Minister to explain what Bardock was, no higher power to smooth over disagreements, no divine representative to translate between two cultures that had only just begun to understand one another.
There was simply an alien Saiyan standing in the Watchtower, years of experience behind his eyes, an absurd amount of power beneath his skin, and an entire planet that did not know what to make of him.
Batman broke the silence first. "We should establish some practical rules."
Bardock slowly turned around. "Of course we should."
Hal Jordan groaned. "Here we go."
Flash smiled. "At least we're not fighting this time."
Bardock looked around the room at the League, then toward Earth once more. "All right," he said. "Let's hear them."
And so, with the Breach still hanging somewhere beyond the limits of their understanding, with Trunks missing somewhere within a cosmology neither side fully understood, and with a Super Dragon Ball somewhere in the vastness of a universe that Bardock had never even known existed until recently, the Saiyan remained on the Watchtower and listened. He did not surrender his convictions, nor did he promise to become something he was not. The Justice League did not demand obedience, nor did they pretend that his arrival had suddenly ceased to be a danger they needed to take seriously. Instead, they reached the far more difficult agreement that neither side would assume the other was an enemy simply because they were different.
Bardock would live according to the laws of the world that had been forced to become his temporary home, while retaining the right to question those laws when he believed they were wrong. The League would watch him, advise him, challenge him when necessary, and judge him according to what he actually did rather than what his power made them fear he might do. It was not trust. Not yet. But it was something upon which trust could eventually be built.
Outside the great windows, Earth continued its quiet rotation, utterly indifferent to the fact that two cosmologies had been joined by a wound in reality and that somewhere beyond the stars an unknown hand might have left a message carved into existence itself. Bardock stood among the heroes of this unfamiliar world, his tail moving once behind him before settling against his waist, and looked down at the planet that was not his Earth while knowing that, for however long fate intended him to remain there, he had accepted responsibility for protecting it.
It was not the same as going home. It was not even close. He still wanted Kakarot's stupid grin, Vegeta's complaints, Chi-Chi's food, Gohan's arguments, the noise of his family, the familiar skies of Universe Seven and the quiet presence of Kansei beside him. But wanting home and having responsibilities were not mutually exclusive things, and Bardock had spent too long learning that lesson to forget it now. Somewhere beyond the walls of the Watchtower, the Breach waited. Somewhere beyond that, Trunks waited, if he was still alive.
Somewhere in this impossible universe, one of Zalama's greatest creations had fallen into unknown hands. Bardock looked toward Batman as the League began discussing where to begin the search, and despite everything that had happened, a small, familiar smile finally returned to his face. He had no idea where this universe would take him. He only knew that he was going to find out.