Chapter 4 - The Team meets Bardock

Chapter 4

{Flashback Scene - Bardock's Memories}

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the machinery keeping the atmosphere stable. Beyond the broad observation window, the stars stretched endlessly across the darkness, distant points of light scattered across a field so vast that even Kansei, for all her familiarity with the heavens, occasionally found herself staring at them simply because she could.

Bardock had always found space beautiful. That was one of the things she had learned about him after spending enough time around him. He did not merely tolerate the emptiness between worlds because he was capable of surviving it; he genuinely liked being there. Unfortunately, his appreciation for the void had occasionally manifested itself in ways that Kansei considered profoundly idiotic.

At present, he was lying beneath several blankets on the bed, his upper body bare, dark hair spread messily across the pillow while the last traces of radiation damage continued to disappear from his body. His breathing was slow and even, and although his eyes were closed, Kansei knew he had been awake for several minutes.

"You flew entirely too close to one of the biggest black holes in the entire multiverse." She said at last, her eye twitching in annoyance.

One eye opened. Bardock glanced at her from beneath his brow, apparently deciding whether the statement required a particular type of response. "That sounds worse when you say it like that."

Kansei stared at him with her perfect features, her blue skin illuminated by the shine of the stars outside the window of the ship. "Well then how else would you like me to say it?"

"I conducted a controlled durability experiment near a gravitational singularity."

"That is exactly the same thing with more words. I told you before not to talk smart with me, dear."

Bardock smiled faintly and closed his eye again. Kansei sat beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, her staff resting against the wall within easy reach. She had spent the better part of the last several hours watching his body repair itself after what would have been a terminal encounter for almost anything else.

The damage had been extensive. The gravitational gradient alone had subjected his body to forces that would have torn apart ordinary matter, while the surrounding radiation had battered him continuously. Even with his Saiyan physiology, he had eventually been forced to withdraw when the strain began approaching the point at which forced regeneration could no longer compensate for the damage being inflicted.

"The gravitational pull would have killed you," she continued. "The radiation would have killed you. Had you gone another few seconds deeper, there would have been considerably less of you left to heal."

"But there was enough."

"That is not the reassuring statement you think it is!"

Bardock opened his eyes properly this time and turned his head toward her. There was still fatigue in his face, but his expression had the quiet satisfaction of someone who had learned something useful. "It was worth it though."

Kansei sighed. "Of course it was."

Bardock shifted slightly against the pillow, wincing as a lingering ache moved through his ribs before his body immediately began correcting it.

"My Zenkai isn't like most Saiyans. You know that. Mine is practically on super steroids. The worse the environment, the more my body has to compensate, and the faster it learns. I don't just recover from damage. My body adapts to whatever nearly killed me." He looked toward the observation window, his voice becoming more thoughtful. "I don't want to find myself in a situation where I'm suddenly exposed to something my body has never experienced before and discover that I can't survive it."

Kansei's expression softened slightly, though she remained unconvinced by the methodology. "So you deliberately exposed yourself to an environment that could have killed you because you wanted your body to learn how to survive it."

"Exactly."

"You do realise that most people call that insanity?"

"Most people don't have my Zenkai."

"That is not even remotely a good defence."

"But it is a pretty good explanation." He grinned at her with that cocky little upturn of his mouth that he saved for her especially.

Sighing to herself, she dismissed her angel trainee robes as they faded away to her Galactic Patrol uniform. He'd called her away in the middle of an assignment, a period where she was supposed to be getting experience in interaction amongst the mortals. Merus was kind enough to cover for her, though she expected a small lecture from him later. She rolled her eyes at Bardock's salacious smirk (the unform was intentionally tight in all the right places), but the Saiyan's amusement faded as he continued.

"Think about the kinds of people I fight. Frieza destroyed a planet because he wanted to kill Vegeta and Kakarot. There are people out there who are perfectly willing to destroy the environment they're standing in if they think it'll take their opponent with it. Someone like that doesn't care whether they win elegantly. They'll blow up the planet, tear apart the atmosphere, flood the battlefield with radiation, throw the whole thing into a star—whatever works." His fingers curled loosely against the blanket. "And the dangerous part isn't when I'm fighting. It's when I stop."

Kansei watched him carefully. "Explain."

"When I'm fighting, my aura is up. My body's reinforced with Ki almost automatically. I'm actively circulating energy through myself, strengthening my muscles, bones, organs, everything. But eventually there'll be a moment when I think the fight is over. I'll lower my aura. I'll relax. I'll stop reinforcing myself because I don't need to." Bardock's eyes narrowed as he remembered something. "That's when someone can catch you." His expression became briefly irritated. "Kakarot learned that lesson the stupid way."

Kansei smiled. "Your uncle."

"Unfortunately."

"The one who was shot by the Frieza Force soldier."

"Yeah. Sorbet." Bardock shook his head. "Kakarot had already beaten Frieza. He was exhausted, relaxed, and dropped his guard. Then some nobody with a laser gun shot him through the chest." He stared at the ceiling. "It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. In a god form with Super Saiyan stacked on top. But that's exactly why it matters. I don't want to be so dependent on active Ki reinforcement that the moment I relax, my durability drops back to whatever my natural body can withstand." He tapped his chest lightly. "If my body itself becomes harder to kill, then I don't have to spend as much energy keeping it alive."

Kansei understood the reasoning, even if she disliked the manner in which he pursued it. Bardock's constant experimentation was not born from paranoia so much as an almost obsessive desire to remove weaknesses before someone else discovered them. He had already used the Dragon Balls to eliminate several vulnerabilities that had once been inherent to his biology.

"You've already done rather a lot in that regard," she observed.

Bardock nodded. "Yeah. I've eliminated quite a few obvious problems." He counted them off lazily on his fingers. "I can breathe underwater now. I can breathe in a vacuum. I don't need an atmosphere to survive. I've got Instant Transmission figured out well enough that I don't need a beacon anymore. I can lock onto places directly." He paused, then gave her a knowing look. "And I've got the senses of a Supreme Kai."

Kansei's mouth curved into a faint smile. "For the moment."

Bardock's expression changed immediately at her allusion. "Ah."

"You know what happens when you take the mantle."

He sighed dramatically. "I know."

"Destroyers do not retain the sensory authority of the Supreme Kai."

"Which is unfortunate."

"It is balance. Frankly you should have never had it to begin with but it seems Earth's guardian has upgraded its dragon a little too much. You'll have to relinquish that ability when I can officially call you 'Lord Bardock'."

"Well that's inconvenient."

"It is balance. Don't pretend that you don't put it at risk by going off and galivanting in other timelines unofficially."

Bardock looked toward her with exaggerated disappointment. "I like being able to feel things happening halfway across the universe."

"And when you become a God of Destruction, you will have other means of perceiving your domain."

"Such as?"

Kansei raised an eyebrow. "Your faithful attendant for starters?"

Bardock stared at her for a moment before a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, right. You." She immediately regretted mentioning it. "You'll have your official angel staff by then," Bardock continued, settling more comfortably into the pillows. "So if I ever want to go snooping around somewhere, I can just have you keep an eye on things."

Kansei rolled her eyes. "I am not going to be your personal surveillance system."

"You'll be my eyes and ears. Technically you won't have a choice."

"I will be your attendant and mentor, a guide sent from the Great Beyond to counsel you in upholding the balance of the universe, to counteract the weight of creation on part of the Kais."

"Same difference."

"It absolutely is not!" She thumped his arm. "I'm not going to be some live-in housewife no matter how good you are under the sheets!"

Bardock's grin widened. "Sounds like something my attendant/housewife would say."

Kansei gave him a flat look, but there was amusement beneath it. "You are going to be an unbearable Destroyer."

"So, I've been told. By your big brother no less. He expresses his condolences to you."

"And you will undoubtedly expect me to clean up every mess you make."

"Not every mess. I like to clean up after myself now and then,"

"Really?" She gestured at a pile of dirty laundry in the corner.

"…I promise that I do…from time to time."

She shook her head, though she could not quite suppress the smile that appeared at the corner of her mouth. Bardock closed his eyes again, finally allowing himself to relax properly now that the conversation had settled. The healing energy moving through his body had become almost imperceptible, his breathing slow and steady as the last remnants of radiation damage disappeared beneath his skin. He asked her to just encourage his healing factor along instead of just fixing him up instantly. Kansei watched him for several moments before speaking again.

"For all your talk about eliminating weaknesses, you still have one rather obvious one."

Bardock opened one eye. "Oh yeah. What's that?"

"You." He stared at her as she smiled sweetly. "You have an unfortunate tendency to mistake surviving something for having made a sensible decision."

Bardock considered the accusation, then closed his eye again.

"Still worth it," he murmured as he went back to sleep.

Kansei sighed. Of course it was. But as she watched him find a rare moment of peace as he slept soundly, given that he was always either training or on some small mission for the Time Patrol that were frankly beneath him most of the time, she just intertwined her fingers with his own.

All things infuriating about him aside, she was really looking forward to their near eternity together.

-+-

-Dick Grayson (Robin)-

Bardock remained where he was at the edge of the porch, one hand resting loosely against the wooden railing as he looked over the group. A moment earlier he had been speaking to Hiroshi with the easy familiarity of someone who had spent enough time in the village to become part of its daily rhythm, but that warmth had disappeared the instant the old man had left.

It was not replaced by hostility so much as a careful distance. These people were strangers. They had followed him into the village, questioned one of the people he cared about, and now stood on his property asking him to accompany them somewhere he had never agreed to go. Bardock's tail remained coiled around his waist, the end tucked neatly against itself, while the muscles of his shoulders shifted almost imperceptibly as he folded his arms.

His expression was calm, but there was something about the stillness of him that made the Team instinctively aware of how little they knew about the man standing in front of them.

"Now then, you finally found me." he said, his gaze passing slowly from one face to another before settling upon Robin. "So tell me, what the hell do you want?"

Robin had prepared himself for that question during the entire journey. He had rehearsed several possible approaches, considered how much of the League's investigation he should disclose, and reminded himself repeatedly that Batman had specifically told them not to provoke the stranger standing in front of them. None of that preparation made the actual moment particularly comfortable. Bardock was not behaving like someone caught committing a crime, nor like someone attempting to intimidate them into leaving. He simply looked as though he had been interrupted while doing something more important and was waiting for them to explain themselves. Robin stepped forward, maintaining as neutral a posture as he could manage.

"We're here because the Justice League wants to speak with you. We know about what happened when you arrived in Metropolis, the incident on the Watchtower, and some of what you've been doing since then. We'd like you to come with us and have a conversation with the League so that we can establish exactly who you are, where you came from, and whether you're responsible for the dimensional rupture that brought you here. Nobody is asking you to confess to anything. We're asking you to cooperate."

Bardock stared at him for several seconds, apparently considering the request with considerably less urgency than Robin would have preferred. His eyes moved briefly toward the road where Hiroshi had disappeared, then across the fields and finally back toward the Team.

"No," he said at last, with such simple certainty that Robin almost wondered whether he had heard correctly.

Robin's eyebrows drew together. "You could at least hear the rest of what I'm saying."

Bardock gave a small shrug. "I heard you. You want me to leave the village, go somewhere controlled by people I don't know, and sit down with an organisation I've never met so that they can question me about my life. Sorry if I offend but I'm not interested."

There was no arrogance in the answer, which somehow made it more difficult to challenge. Bardock was not refusing because he wanted to establish dominance. He genuinely seemed to believe that the request carried no particular authority over him.

"The League doesn't have jurisdiction over me," he continued, his voice remaining level. "I'm not one of your citizens, I'm not a member of your organisation, and I haven't agreed to follow your laws simply because I happen to be living on your planet. I appreciate that you're trying to understand what happened, but I don't answer to you."

Robin's expression tightened, and before he could formulate another response, Artemis stepped slightly forward. "You seem pretty comfortable deciding that for yourself."

Bardock looked toward her, but there was no challenge in his eyes. "I'm comfortable making decisions about my own life," he replied.

Robin took the opening. "That might be true, but you're also making decisions about other people's lives." His voice became firmer as the frustration that had been building throughout the investigation finally found an outlet. "We've investigated what you've been doing since you arrived. We've found people you've beaten half to death, people you've handed over to the authorities, and people you've killed. You don't get to decide that because they're criminals, their lives are yours to take. That's vigilantism, Bardock. You aren't a police officer, you aren't a judge, and you certainly aren't the law." The Saiyan's eyes narrowed slightly, though whether from irritation or simple concentration was difficult to tell. Robin continued, emboldened by the fact that Bardock had not interrupted him. "You might have helped this village. You might have saved people. That doesn't erase the fact that you've been executing criminals because you decided they deserved it."

Bardock was silent for a while. His gaze moved over the fields again, and for a moment Robin wondered whether he had simply decided not to answer. When he finally spoke, however, his voice was quieter than before.

"I never claimed it erased anything." Robin blinked. Bardock uncrossed his arms and rested his hands at his sides. "Some of the people I killed were dangerous. Some were armed. Some had already hurt people and were preparing to hurt others. Some ran when they realised they couldn't win. The ones who ran, I let run. The ones who surrendered, I handed over to the relevant authorities. The ones who kept fighting until somebody died weren't all treated the same way." He looked directly at Robin. "You want me to pretend that I don't understand the distinction between what your laws permit and what I personally consider necessary. I won't do that."

Robin's jaw tightened. "So, you think you're above the law?"

Bardock shook his head. "No. I think laws are tools made by people, and tools are only useful when they're actually protecting the people they're meant to protect. I'm not interested in becoming some self-appointed ruler, Robin. I don't want anyone bowing to me. I don't want control over this village. I didn't even ask these people to call me their protector. They did that themselves." He paused, then added more quietly, "But if somebody comes here intending to hurt them, I'm not going to stand around waiting for paperwork."

The answer clearly did not satisfy Robin, but before the conversation could become another argument, Bardock's attention shifted. His head turned slightly, and his eyes settled upon Conner. It was such an abrupt change that the rest of the Team followed his gaze almost instinctively. Conner had remained silent throughout the exchange, arms folded across his chest, his expression increasingly sour as Bardock spoke. He had already disliked the Saiyan from the moment he'd heard what happened between him and Superman, and the conversation had done little to improve his opinion. Bardock, however, seemed to have noticed something about him that went beyond the obvious. His eyes narrowed, and the Saiyan's posture became subtly different. He wasn't preparing to fight. If anything, he looked curious.

"You." Bardock said, studying Conner more closely.

Conner frowned. "What about me?"

Bardock didn't answer immediately. He seemed to be listening to something nobody else could hear, his gaze moving over Conner's body with an intensity that made the clone instinctively uncomfortable.

"Your energy is strange," Bardock said eventually. "I've felt something like it before." His eyes remained fixed on Conner. "…that man you call Superman. You're carrying the same basic energy pattern he does. Almost the same, actually. Same energy, same physiology, the same general structure. But there's something wrong with it. It's not like a normal parent-child relationship."

Conner's expression darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Robin made sure to file away this apparent 'energy sensing' abilities. Not the first time a potential adversary or another super being claimed such powers, but the term was too broad and too vague. It had to be the same 'energy' that the League had noted down as signatory to the Saiyan, and yet he was claiming the same could be sensed in Conner…which in a way actually did help narrow things down a little bit. Bardock stepped away from the porch and approached them by a couple of paces, not enough to appear threatening but close enough that he could examine Conner more clearly. The Team watched him carefully. Bardock's eyes flickered briefly over Conner's face, chest and hands, as though the physical similarities were only confirming something his energy had already told him.

"You're not related to him naturally," he said. "The resemblance is too precise, and your energy has the same foundation without the same history behind it. There's something artificial about the way your cells are constructed and the way your life force flows through them." There it was, the clue. Conner's arms dropped to his sides. Bardock tilted his head slightly, the pieces finally fitting together. "You're a clone. An artificial lifeform created using Superman's genetic material. That's why your energy feels so similar. They built you from him."

Conner's face went rigid. Bardock had made this observation without any malice whatsoever, apparently unaware that he had just touched one of the deepest wounds in the young man's identity. The silence that followed was uncomfortable enough that even Wally stopped fidgeting. M'Gann's expression changed as she looked toward Conner, already anticipating his reaction.

Conner stared at Bardock with an intensity that had nothing to do with physical combat. "Don't call me that."

Bardock frowned slightly. "Why?"

Conner's fists clenched. "Because I'm not some artificial lifeform."

Bardock considered that for a moment, then answered with the same blunt honesty that had characterised everything he'd said since they arrived.

"Biologically, you are." The effect was immediate. Conner's shoulders tensed and his eyes hardened, while Robin stepped forward.

"Bardock, that's enough."

Bardock looked toward him, genuinely confused. "I wasn't insulting him."

"You may not have meant to," Robin replied, "but you're talking about something you clearly don't understand."

Bardock glanced back toward Conner. "I understand what I sensed."

Conner's breathing had become heavier. "You don't know anything about me." His tone was low and strangled, like he was trying (and clearly failing) to hold back his anger.

Bardock's expression softened by a fraction. "No. I don't." For the first time, there was something resembling acknowledgement in his voice. "But I know what your body is."

Conner took a step toward him. "I'm not a thing!"

Bardock's brow furrowed. "I didn't say you were. For a guy with a frown that could rival Vegeta's, you sure are thin skinned."

Conner's fists tightened further. "You just called me artificial. How the hell am I supposed to feel?"

Bardock gave a small nod as he stepped back on his porch. "Maybe I did so because you are artificial. Ever figured that? And besides, being a petri-dish baby doesn't mean you're not alive." It was, perhaps, the most reasonable answer he could have given. Unfortunately, it was also the wrong thing to say to someone who had spent his entire existence trying to prove that the circumstances of his creation did not define him.

Conner moved before anyone could stop him. His first step shattered the wooden edge of the porch beneath his foot, and the second carried him directly across the space between them. His fist came forward with enough force to send a normal human flying through the house, but Bardock did not even flinch. He simply shifted his head to the side, allowing Conner's knuckles to pass within an inch of his cheek. The movement was so economical that for an instant it looked almost casual. Bardock rotated his shoulders and let Conner's momentum carry him past, his own hand briefly brushing the clone's forearm as he redirected the attack rather than meeting it head-on.

"Conner!" Robin shouted, but the clone was already turning.

Conner threw another punch, faster and harder, and Bardock simply stepped aside again. The Saiyan's expression had not changed. He wasn't angry, and he wasn't even particularly impressed. He was watching Conner's movements with the detached concentration of a martial artist studying a beginner who was relying entirely on strength.

"Stop." Bardock said, still calm. Conner ignored him and swung again. Bardock leaned away from the blow, allowing it to pass harmlessly in front of his face. "Such sloppy technique. I said stop."

The Team began moving toward them, but Kaldur immediately called for Conner to stand down, and M'Gann's voice joined his as she tried to reach him telepathically. Conner's frustration had overwhelmed whatever restraint he possessed, however, and he launched himself forward once more. This time he attempted to take Bardock's head off with a sweeping kick. The Saiyan watched the attack approach with almost clinical attention. Rather than retreating, he stepped into the movement. His hand came up and his index finger struck the side of Conner's knee with a sharp flick at precisely the moment the leg reached full extension. There was a sharp crack of displaced momentum rather than broken bone, and Conner's entire body spun around the point of impact.

His own speed betrayed him as the force Bardock had applied redirected his centre of gravity completely. Conner rotated through the air comically, his body twisting sideways before he crashed into the grass several metres away. The Team stopped dead. Nobody had missed what happened. Bardock had not punched him. He had not kicked him. He had barely touched him, yet Conner had been thrown around like his entire body weighed nothing. Conner rolled across the field and forced himself upright, his expression now somewhere between rage and humiliation. Robin took a step forward.

"Conner, that's enough. You attacked him, he defended himself, and you're not getting anything out of this. We're supposed to do recon, not fight!"

Conner barely seemed to hear him. Bardock stood where he had been, arms relaxed at his sides, looking at Conner with the same calm expression.

"You don't need to prove anything to me, kid." he said as his tail flicked lazily behind him.

Conner wiped the dirt from his mouth. "I don't need your approval!"

Bardock nodded once. "Good. Then stop acting like you do."

The statement struck a nerve Conner didn't know how to defend against. He surged forward again, and this time the entire Team moved simultaneously to prevent their teammate from being further damaged, ego and all. Kaldur stepped into position, Artemis reached for an arrow, Zatanna raised one hand, M'Gann prepared to intervene telepathically and Robin moved toward Conner in an attempt to physically stop him.

Bardock's head snapped towards them and his eyes flashed green, his black irises radiating an emerald green glow whilst his pupils were sharp and prominent, like a black hole in the centre of an emerald maelstrom. The effect was instantaneous. There was no visible blast and no physical force that any of them could identify, yet every member of the Team froze as though an invisible hand had closed around their bodies, mainly their throats as breathing suddenly became laborious.

Robin's foot remained suspended halfway through a step. Artemis could feel every muscle in her body screaming at her to move, but nothing obeyed. Wally's breath caught painfully in his chest as even his connection to the Speed Force seemed to juddder, and even Kaldur's usually disciplined expression betrayed a flash of genuine alarm. M'Gann was perhaps the most affected of all. She couldn't feel Bardock's mind, couldn't even find the edges of it, and yet she could feel something behind his gaze that made every survival instinct in her telepathic nature recoil.

It wasn't simply power. It was the sensation of being watched by something that possessed vastly more strength than it needed and had decided, for the moment, not to use it. Like a pair of eyes gazing up at her from an abyss with no bottom. Bardock's eyes moved slowly across them, and the fear that followed was not rational enough to be argued with. Their bodies understood the difference between an opponent they could fight and something they should not provoke.

"Stay where you are." Bardock ordered quietly.

His voice carried no anger, but it left no room for negotiation. Conner was the only one still moving, stumbling on his feet after the blow to his knee. Bardock turned his attention toward him, and the green light in his eyes faded. The pressure disappeared from the others almost as quickly as it had arrived, leaving them breathing harder than they wanted to admit. Conner, however, was still determined to continue.

He straightened, squared his shoulders and charged again. Bardock sighed, almost wearily, before stepping toward him rather than away. Conner barely had time to react before Bardock's hand rose. His index finger snapped forwards faster than they could blink, striking Conner in the forehead in a precise sharp poke. For a fraction of a second nothing happened. The impact was tiny compared to everything else that preceded it but Conner's eyes immediately rolled backwards. His body went limp before he could complete another movement, and Bardock caught him by the shoulder, lowering him carefully to the ground rather than allowing him to fall face-first into the dirt.

For several seconds, nobody spoke. Bardock looked down at Conner, checked his breathing and watched the slight movement of his chest before apparently deciding that the clone was merely unconscious.

"He'll be fine," he said, straightening again. Robin stared at him, still trying to reconcile what he had just witnessed with everything Batman had told them.

"You knocked him out…with a finger?"

Bardock glanced at his own hand as though the observation were mildly amusing. "He wouldn't exactly stop. It seemed like he was barely bothered to listen to you, least of all me."

Artemis looked toward Conner and then back to Bardock. "You could have seriously hurt him!"

Bardock met her eyes. "Yes, I could have. Easily in fact given how much of a weakling he is, but I couldn't be bothered."

There was no pride in the admission. If anything, his answer carried a quiet implication that the reason Conner was still breathing without serious injury was because Bardock had deliberately chosen restraint.

Kaldur studied him for several moments before asking, "Why didn't you?"

Bardock's expression softened slightly. "Because he was angry. He wasn't trying to kill me. He was trying to prove something to himself more than anyone else. Those are different things." His gaze returned to Conner. "He seems like a kid with a good heart. Terminally angry but just lost and confused. I imagine his presumably unwilling genetic donor isn't thrilled about the situation. I've come across clones and other artificial lifeforms before…it's hard for them to make real connections, and even when they do, they're always so…monotonous. Emotions are hard for them to express regularly like we do."

Robin looked at the unconscious clone, then at Bardock, and the uncomfortable truth of the encounter began to settle over him. Bardock had not behaved like a man looking for a fight. He had spent the entire confrontation trying to avoid one. He had evaded Conner's attacks rather than retaliating, used the minimum force necessary to stop him, and only incapacitated him once Conner had ignored every warning.

Even the frightening display of intimidation had been directed toward the Team only when they moved to intervene in a fight that Bardock clearly believed he had under control. None of that erased Robin's concerns about the deaths they had investigated, but it complicated the picture considerably. Bardock wasn't a mindless killer, nor was he the monster some of them had begun to imagine during the journey. He was simply operating according to a moral framework that did not match theirs, and unlike them, he possessed enough power that his personal decisions carried consequences on a completely different scale.

Bardock finally looked back toward Robin. "You came here because your League wants to talk to me. Fine. Tell them to come."

Robin's eyebrows rose slightly. "You'll go to the Watchtower?"

Bardock gave him a flat look. "Did you not hear me? I said they could come. They want to talk; they know where to find me."

Wally, despite the tension still hanging over the field, glanced toward the unconscious Conner and muttered something under his breath that Artemis silenced with an elbow before it could become another problem. Bardock ignored them.

"I'm not leaving this village because a group of strangers decided they would prefer to question me somewhere they control. If Superman, Batman, or whoever else wants answers, they can ask me themselves." He paused and looked toward the distant houses, where the ordinary sounds of the village were beginning to return now that the confrontation had ended. "Until then, I've got fish to clean, a house to finish rebuilding, and a shogi game tonight that I'm already late for."

Robin stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. The assignment had been to locate Bardock, observe him and determine what he was doing. They had certainly accomplished the first part. The second was considerably more complicated than it had been an hour ago, and as for the third, Robin suspected they had barely scratched the surface, beyond the increasingly probable theory he had about Bardock's powers. He looked down at Conner again and then back toward the Saiyan standing calmly on the porch, apparently more concerned about an evening game with an elderly Japanese farmer than the confrontation that had just taken place.

"We're going to take Conner back to the Bio-Ship." Robin said. "We won't take up anymore of your time."

Bardock nodded. "Good. He'll wake up soon."

Robin hesitated before adding. "For what it's worth, I still don't agree with what you've been doing."

Bardock regarded him without hostility. "I didn't expect you to. Nor do I particularly care. Now go. Your presence is making the villagers nervous."

Robin turned away, signalling for the others to help with Conner. Bardock watched them leave the field, his expression unreadable until he saw Wally struggle with Conner's weight and Kaldur silently take over. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of Bardock's mouth lifted. The Team had come looking for a dangerous unknown. They were leaving with an unconscious clone, a warning to their League, and a great deal more uncertainty than they had arrived with.

-+-

-Bardock-

I watched the strange ship that felt distinctly alive itself in some way disappear into the evening sky until it became little more than a glint against the clouds, and even then I kept my eyes on the place where it had vanished. The engine note faded gradually, swallowed by the distance and the ordinary sounds of the village. Somewhere behind me, I could hear the faint clatter of dishes from one of the houses, a dog barking at something it had decided was suspicious, and the rhythmic sound of somebody working in a field despite the hour. It was strange how quickly those sounds had become familiar and comforting.

A month ago, I wouldn't have recognised any of them. Now I could tell which houses were occupied simply by the way people moved around them, which paths the villagers favoured, which farmers were still working when they should have been resting, and which children were likely to come running if they heard something unusual. Or if they wanted to wrestle with me. They liked to try for some reason. They also liked to touch my tail, rubbing their faces in it like a furry scarf much to my chagrin. I had spent the last month trying to understand this world, and somewhere along the way I had stopped thinking of it entirely as a place I had crashed into and started thinking of it as somewhere I was temporarily living.

The difference mattered more than I liked to admit.

The Team had been surprisingly entertaining, if nothing else. Annoying, certainly. Suspicious and young, and eager to please the ones above them. Some of them were clearly carrying enough unresolved baggage to fill a cargo ship, and the angry one had apparently decided that punching me was an acceptable substitute for working through his feelings. There's this Earthen expression (that I found on this Earth too so it's nice to find something consistent), 'wearing emotions on sleeves'. Theirs bleed right into their Ki.

The green one was trying to get into my head the whole time. It's kind of hard to penetrate the mental space of someone who's been exposed to divine energy…and the torturous ministrations of an angry Destroyer God. One too many pranks on old Beerus.

Still, they were not bad kids. The one called Robin was particularly interesting. He reminded me a little of people I had met in the Time Patrol over the years: intelligent, observant, suspicious of anything he couldn't classify, and carrying far more responsibility than somebody his age probably should. How old was he, thirteen? He had looked at me as though he was trying to decide whether I was a monster, a criminal, or simply an idiot. I couldn't blame him. If our positions were reversed, I'd probably have done the same. The ship disappeared completely, and I finally looked away.

One month. That was how long I'd been here.

One month was not a particularly long time for me, especially after everything I had experienced through the Time Patrol, but it was long enough to learn quite a lot when you possessed my particular combination of abilities. I had spent much of the first few days recovering, and the League had apparently been considerate enough to leave me alone after I escaped their Watchtower. Once I was mobile, though, there wasn't much reason for me to remain ignorant.

I had access to the internet, television, radio, public records, newspapers, libraries, and enough patience to sift through them. More importantly, I had the ability to move faster than any conventional investigation could keep up with. I could observe places without being noticed, listen from distances ordinary people couldn't comprehend, and use my senses to gather information without leaving a digital trail. I hadn't broken into anything particularly sensitive. There was no need. This world's people had already documented most of its history themselves.

And the more I learned, the more obvious it became that this wasn't my Earth.

I'd known that before, of course. The moment I'd arrived, the differences had been impossible to ignore. The architecture, the political borders, the lacking technology, the people I'd never heard of, the sheer number of 'metahumans' walking around this planet pretending that being able to lift a truck was somehow unusual. But I'd spent enough time in different timelines to know that unfamiliarity wasn't evidence of another reality.

The Time Patrol had taught me that history could branch in absurd ways. I've seen worlds where events that were fundamental to a planet's progression and prosperity simply never happened. I've seen people alive who should have been dead, civilisations that never rose, planets that were destroyed in one history and flourishing in another. There were timelines where even the smallest change produced consequences centuries later. So when I first arrived here, I didn't immediately assume I'd left my reality entirely. I considered the possibility that I had simply crossed into another branch, just the strangest one yet.

That possibility became harder to maintain when none of my communicators worked. I'd tried everything. My standard Time Patrol communicator wouldn't establish a connection. Neither would the emergency system. I had tried contacting Chronoa directly. I'd tried the normal channels, emergency channels, methods that were technically unnecessary but which I knew should have produced some kind of response. Nothing. No signal, no distortion, no indication that anyone had even heard me. It was like shouting into a room that didn't exist. That was when I finally accepted the more uncomfortable explanation. I'd broken through into another reality entirely, one that existed outside the jurisdiction of the gods and temporal systems I knew.

If this were merely another timeline within the multiverse I knew, Chronoa would have answered. She might have shouted at me first. She might have threatened to make me spend the next century doing paperwork for causing another temporal catastrophe. She might even have sent Trunks to drag me home by the ear. But she would have answered. She cared deeply about her charges, and the fact that she hadn't answered told me more than any instrument could have.

Whatever this place was, the gods of my multiverse had no authority here. That was both exciting and deeply unsettling. It meant I was on my own. No self-respecting Saiyan would be scared of isolation, it was just daunting. I had also learned about the people who apparently served as this world's equivalent of the Z Fighters.

The Justice League.

I had watched a lot of footage of them over the past month. News broadcasts were particularly useful because they had an annoying tendency to replay everything interesting from twelve different angles. There were documentaries, interviews, historical records, government statements, conspiracy theories, arguments from people who hated them, arguments from people who worshipped them, and enough badly edited internet videos to make my eyes hurt. I ignored most of the nonsense and concentrated on the actual battles.

The founding members were the ones I paid the most attention to.

Superman was obvious. Everybody seemed to know his name. The man had spent years flying around the planet in a bright costume and stopping disasters, alien invasions, supervillains, natural catastrophes and whatever else seemed determined to make Earth's population miserable. His public history was extensive, and unlike most of the people I'd known back home, he didn't seem particularly interested in concealing his existence. The footage I'd seen of him was impressive.

Very impressive.

And completely at odds with what my senses told me. That was the part that fascinated me. I could watch Superman lift something impossibly heavy, fly through an object that should have been capable of killing him, survive an explosion, move at speeds that made conventional aircraft look stationary, or trade blows with something large enough to destroy cities. Then I'd close my eyes, reach out with my senses and feel the energy inside him. It didn't make sense. The amount of Ki I could perceive in him did not correspond to what I was watching him do. That wasn't an insult. Quite the opposite. It was truly fascinating.

The same thing happened with several of the League's members. Their physical feats were completely disproportionate to the energy signatures I could detect from them. Back home, power usually made itself known. You could sense Ki. You could feel pressure. You could distinguish an ordinary human from someone capable of destroying a planet without much difficulty. Even when somebody was suppressing themselves, there were tells. Something about their presence gave them away.

These people didn't work that way, at least, not entirely.

I didn't know whether that was because their powers were drawing upon something other than Ki, because the laws governing their abilities were fundamentally different, or because my own senses weren't interpreting their energy correctly. Probably all three. I'd spent my entire life learning how to read one particular cosmological system. This universe seemed to have several overlapping ones.

Magic. Divine power. Emotional energy. Alien biology. Whatever the hell the so-called Lanterns were using. There were gods walking around openly, sorcerers manipulating forces that didn't resemble Ki at all, beings apparently connected to concepts rather than biology, and people whose abilities seemed to be determined by rules that only made sense within their own particular corner of existence.

And yet, despite all that, there was something wonderfully familiar about the Justice League. They were defenders. They were the people called when things became too big for ordinary authorities to handle. They fought supervillains, alien armies, monsters, rogue gods and whatever else decided to threaten the planet that week. They likely argued with one another, made mistakes, disagreed about methods and occasionally destroyed more infrastructure than the people they were trying to save probably appreciated. And probably had a couple of social gatherings now and then.

In other words, they were the Z Fighters. Different uniforms, different history…different world. Same basic problem. And after watching enough of their battles, I had to admit something that I probably shouldn't have found quite as amusing as I did. I wanted to fight them. Not because I hated them, anything but. Their opponents were incredible.

There were things on this Earth that would have been considered absurd even by the standards I'd grown accustomed to. I had watched footage of battles against beings capable of threatening cities, continents and, in some cases, much more. I'd seen the League stand against creatures that looked like they belonged in some ancient Saiyan war story. I had watched Superman and others trade blows with enemies that should have reduced them to pieces, only for them to get back up and keep fighting.

And the whole time, my instincts kept telling me something was wrong. Not wrong with them. Wrong with the measurements. I could sense their life-force, and yet their feats suggested something far greater. That made me curious…and as Kansei would point out, curiosity had always been one of my more dangerous traits.

There were a handful of them whose energy was especially strange. Wonder Woman was one. I had never met anyone quite like her, and the more footage I watched, the less I understood what exactly I was sensing when I looked at her. There was something divine in her, but not in the same way I understood divine Ki. It was potent in some respects and stranger in others. Shazam (or Captain Marvel but I'm not bothered to keep saying that every time I refer to him) was another. His energy didn't behave like a conventional mortal's at all. There were several distinct signatures woven together inside him, and even from recordings I could tell there was something fundamentally unusual about the power he carried. At his core, I could sense the soul of a mortal surrounded by the volatile powers of different gods.

Doctor Fate was stranger still. Whatever was inside that helmet, the obvious source of power, was not something I wanted to casually poke at. I had learnt enough about this universe to understand that some things were better left alone until I knew what I was dealing with. Still, I couldn't deny the temptation.

I looked down at my right hand and slowly closed it into a fist. My fingers tightened as I drew a breath and tried to circulate my Ki. The response was immediate and wrong. Not painful anymore, and that was a welcome improvement.

A month ago, attempting to circulate my energy had felt like forcing water through pipes that had been crushed and twisted. Now it moved again. But it simply didn't move properly. There were sections of my internal network where the flow remained sluggish, areas where the energy seemed to hesitate before continuing, and other points where the current became turbulent for reasons I couldn't fully identify. My body itself was healthy. The damage from the breach and the fight with Demigra had healed. The delayed onset of energy deprivation had subsided as well. My reserves were there. My muscles worked, my senses were sharp and my breathing was normal.

But my Ki pathways were still damaged.

The DOED had been one of the more unpleasant experiences I'd had in years. Divine Overload Energy Depletion was what we'd eventually called it in respects to me. I never had completely stabilised the Legendary Super Saiyan Blue forms. It was just too much power, so much so that even my body struggled to contain it. It's what prompted me to fly into black holes to strengthen my mortal vessel, hoping that the extra durability would help contain the power.

Though, the name was less important than the problem itself. I'd forced far too much energy through my system while fighting Demigra and countering that explosion, and the consequences had been severe. The fact that I'd survived at all was partly because of my biology, partly because of the Senzu I'd eventually received, and partly because my body had simply refused to give up. But survival wasn't the same as recovery. I tried to push more energy through, attempting to focus it around the middle of my back to coax out the form Saiyans had become known for. Nothing. The flow stumbled and then came to a dead halt, like it bumped up against some sort of blockage. Ceasing my efforts, I sighed. There was no point forcing it.

I'd tried transforming several times since I'd arrived. I didn't share my uncle's love for discovering more forms and using them so much. I much rather preferred an ethic like Jiren the Gray's. No silly transformations, just pure strength in his base form. But that didn't mean I was completely dismissive of the abilities blessed upon my race.

The results had been pathetic and that was putting it lightly. Wrath wouldn't hold, of all things. That was the one that bothered me most. If I couldn't stabilise the Wrathful form, there was no chance of forcing Super Saiyan. The higher forms were even further out of reach. My body knew the transformations were there. I could feel them, just beyond the damaged pathways, like enormous reservoirs behind sealed doors. I could reach toward them, draw from them like extended giant battery packs, and feel the pressure waiting on the other side.

But I couldn't open the door, couldn't conduct that power appropriately. The ocean of power was within my grasp but the reservoir with which I could siphon it through was not sufficient enough. Too small, and I couldn't force it to hold anymore as I could previously. Not yet.

I have to say I wasn't particularly worried though. Frustrated, yes but not worried. My base form was still ridiculous by any reasonable standard. Even with my current limitations, I could probably unleash my full natural strength if I absolutely needed to. I could likely stack Kaioken on top of it for short periods as well, though I wasn't interested in repeating the mistake that had landed me here in the first place. There was more than enough power available in me to keep most threats on this planet from becoming problems.

But that wasn't the point. I'd spent most of my life learning how to increase my power. Now I needed to relearn how to use what I already had, and refine my abilities, hone my finer skills even more. I suspected the problem went beyond simple damage, anyway. Being forced to be economic with my usage and being mindful of every drop of my energy would give me such fine and precise control over it like nothing ever seen. The Ki here was wrong. Not weak or inferior, just... impure. That was the only word that seemed appropriate.

The universe I knew had its own underlying structure. Ki existed within it alongside divine Ki, magic and the other forces that belonged to the cosmology. Here, those boundaries seemed far less clean. There were too many domains overlapping one another. Too many gods and too many sources of power. Too many different systems operating in the same reality and interacting in ways I didn't yet understand. It was as though the energy of this universe had been exposed to dozens of different flavours of existence and had absorbed traces of all of them. My body didn't know what to do with it. Perhaps that was why my circulation had been disrupted and perhaps the breach itself had changed something in me. Perhaps my energy was trying to adapt.

That possibility actually interested me more than it concerned me. Because if my body could adapt to this universe's Ki, then eventually I wouldn't merely recover. I'd become compatible with it and become something more than what I used to be. I wasn't going to rush the process, that lesson was already learnt. I opened my hand again and watched my fingers relax. There was no point trying to force Super Saiyan back into existence before my body was ready. The transformation would come when my circulation stabilised. Wrath would come first. Then everything beyond it would follow naturally. Until then, I had a planet to explore, a new cosmology to understand, and apparently, an entire team of superheroes who might actually be worth fighting.

I smiled faintly at that thought. For the first time since I'd fallen through the breach, the prospect of being stranded here didn't feel quite so bad. It felt like an opportunity. I felt optimistic about going home eventually. The person I loved most was an immortal being so I had no serious concerns in that field…besides her bashing my head in with her staff when she got her hands on me. Beneath that tough, hard-to-get act she put, she genuinely loved me regardless of the impropriety. And the rest of my family were not only still relatively young but would also be long-lived. I was not afraid of never seeing them again.

I looked towards the horizon, where the last of the clouds were fading behind the mountains, giving way to the clear skies I loved about this village. Whatever this Earth was, it wasn't mine. The gods I knew couldn't hear me. Chronoa couldn't answer. The Grand Minister couldn't reach me.

My transformations were sealed away, my Ki was damaged. And I had absolutely no idea how I was going to get home. But for the first time in a month, I found myself wondering whether going home immediately was actually what I wanted. There were people here I hadn't met yet. Enemies I'd only seen through television screens. Powers I didn't understand. A universe whose rules I had barely begun to uncover.

And somewhere out there was Superman, along with Wonder Woman, Shazam, Doctor Fate and the rest of the League. That Batman character seemed a little off. I looked down at my fist once more. The energy inside it stirred, uneven but present.

I smiled, feeling the excitement brewing. Maybe being stuck here wasn't such a bad thing after all.

-+-

-Clark Kent (Superman)-

By the time the Bio-Ship returned to Mount Justice, the sun had already reached its zenith, leaving the sky over Happy Harbor washed in the bright colours of early evening. Superman was waiting in the briefing room when the doors opened, standing with his arms folded loosely across his chest while the others took their places around the table. Batman was already seated, naturally, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl. Wonder Woman stood beside him with her hands resting against the edge of the table, both Green Lanterns occupied two of the chairs farther down, and Martian Manhunter had chosen his usual position where he could observe everyone without seeming to dominate the room.

Flash was present despite having spent much of the afternoon dealing with another matter, and Shazam had arrived shortly before the Team, still wearing the slightly uncertain expression he tended to adopt whenever League meetings involved serious discussions. Zatara had come as well, his concern less disguised than anyone else's; his daughter was on that Bio-Ship, and whatever happened during their assignment had clearly affected him more than he wished to show.

Clark had been expecting a difficult report. He had not expected the room to become quiet before anyone had even finished sitting down. The Team looked tired. Not physically exhausted in the conventional sense, although several of them had clearly been through enough stress to leave them drained, but unsettled in the way people became when an assignment had contradicted their expectations. Robin stood at the head of the table with a datapad in his hand, while the others gathered behind him. Conner was conspicuously absent.

That alone told Clark that the mission had gone badly. He had already received the preliminary message from the Bio-Ship that Superboy remained unconscious, but he had deliberately waited for the full report before drawing any conclusions. He knew his own instincts were not always useful when Conner was involved. Whatever had happened, he needed to hear it from the people who had actually been there.

"All right. Putting aside your failure to follow through with your specific orders, let's hear your report." Batman said, breaking the silence. "Start from the beginning. No assumptions. No conclusions that aren't supported by what you observed." Robin nodded, glanced once toward his teammates, and began.

"We found him in a rural village in Japan, close to the area where we'd been tracking the organised-crime activity." Robin explained, voice controlled but Clark noticed that he was choosing his words more carefully than usual. "The villagers knew him. Not just knew of him. They considered him part of the community. He's apparently been there almost since his arrival on Earth, and he's been helping them with farming, fishing, repairs and general security. They spoke about him like he was one of their own."

Artemis added that the villagers had been reluctant to approach or speak about Bardock at first, particularly because they seemed to regard him as a protector rather than an outsider. Kaldur then explained that Bardock had not initially presented himself as such; the villagers had simply adopted the title themselves after he repeatedly intervened against criminal groups operating in the region.

"We found evidence supporting their claims," he said. "The criminal activity in the area has significantly declined since his arrival. Some criminals were handed over to the authorities. Others fled…others are dead."

The last two words hung in the room longer than the others. Clark's expression tightened slightly. He'd known this was coming and they had already suspected Bardock was responsible for several deaths, but hearing it confirmed was different from reading an intelligence report. Batman's gaze remained fixed on Robin.

"Did he admit it?"

Robin nodded. "Yes." He hesitated briefly, then continued. "And not defensively. He didn't deny killing people, and he didn't appear particularly ashamed of it either. He said some of the people he killed had already demonstrated that they intended to keep hurting others. His position was basically that he wasn't going to wait for a legal system to intervene when somebody was actively threatening the people around him."

Wonder Woman's expression hardened, although there was no outrage in it so much as the recognition of a familiar philosophical argument. She too was a warrior, forged in the fires of conflict long before she came to the World of Men. "And he believes that gives him the authority to decide who lives and dies?" she asked.

Robin shook his head. "Not exactly. That's what made it difficult. He doesn't seem to believe he has authority. He believes he has responsibility. There's a difference in his mind." Diana considered that quietly. "He made the distinction between law and morality." Robin continued. "He doesn't think laws automatically make something morally correct, and he doesn't think violating a law automatically makes something morally wrong. He basically told me that laws are tools created by people, and that tools aren't useful if they don't protect the people they're meant to protect."

Batman's eyes narrowed slightly. "And I assume you challenged that?"

"Yes." Robin's answer was immediate. "I told him he was a vigilante. He didn't disagree."

That elicited a faint shift in Superman's expression. Bardock's willingness to admit it was significant. Most vigilantes went to considerable lengths to frame themselves as something else. They called themselves protectors, operatives, guardians, investigators. Bardock apparently saw no reason to hide behind terminology. He simply believed his actions were justified by circumstances and accepted that the League would disagree with him.

Then Robin's report reached the more troubling part. "Superboy attacked him."

Clark's eyes closed for half a second.

Batman didn't move. "Why?"

Robin looked uncomfortable. "Bardock sensed that Conner wasn't naturally Kryptonian. He examined his 'energy signature' and immediately recognised similarities to Superman." Clark felt every eye in the room briefly shift toward him. "He couldn't identify exactly what Conner was at first, but after studying him for a few seconds, he figured it out. He said Conner was a clone. An artificially created lifeform made from Superman's genetic material."

Zatara's expression changed subtly, while John Stewart leaned back in his chair.

"And Conner reacted badly," Robin continued. "Very badly. We tried to stop him, but he attacked Bardock." Clark exhaled slowly through his nose. He knew how sensitive Conner was about that subject. He also knew Bardock hadn't necessarily known how deeply the word would cut.

"How badly?" Clark asked.

Robin looked directly at him. "Bardock didn't attack him initially. He avoided him." The answer was important enough that Superman listened more closely. "Conner punched him, Bardock dodged. He tried again with the same result. Then Conner kicked him, and Bardock just…flicked his knee? With one finger. And he did it so precisely. Conner span in the air and landed several metres away."

Flash's eyebrows rose. Shazam muttered something under his breath. Robin continued.

"When we moved in to intervene, Bardock just looked at us and his eyes flashed green. We couldn't move."

Superman's attention sharpened immediately. "You couldn't move? How?"

"Not physically," Robin said. "It felt like fear. Except it wasn't ordinary fear. It was more like every instinct in my body was telling me not to move."

M'Gann nodded. "I couldn't read him either. Not properly. His mind was there, but it was like trying to find a signal beneath an ocean." Zatara frowned at that, while John Stewart exchanged a glance with Hal Jordan. J'onn regarded his niece with concern.

"And Conner?" Clark asked.

Robin's expression became grim. "He got up and attacked again. Bardock jabbed his forehead with one finger." There was a pause. "Conner dropped unconscious." Clark stared at him.

"He poked him? That was it?"

"Yes." The answer was almost absurd, and everyone in the room seemed to recognise that. Even Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed slightly at the implication.

Batman's fingers tapped once against the table. "Injuries?"

"None that we could identify beyond the impact trauma. He's stable. Still unconscious, but stable."

Superman's shoulders loosened fractionally. Relief came first, followed immediately by concern. He knew Conner's strength. If Bardock had really neutralised him that effortlessly, then the incident had confirmed something the League had already suspected from the Watchtower encounter: Bardock possessed an extraordinary degree of physical power and, more importantly, an extraordinary degree of control over it. Clark was still feeling phantom aches.

Robin looked down at the datapad for a moment before adding, "There's something else."

Batman looked up. "Go on."

"I think we may have a better idea of what his power actually is."

That drew everyone's attention. Robin hesitated, evidently aware that the next part sounded speculative. "Bardock talks about his energy sensing abilities pointedly and we know it's something he circulates through his body. He seems to use it for physical reinforcement, sensing, movement, and whatever other method of attack he employs. At first I thought he was just describing some alien biological process, but the more I thought about it, the more familiar it sounded." He glanced toward Kaldur, then M'Gann, before looking back at the League. "It sounds like Ki."

The word itself meant little to most of the room, but Zatara immediately raised his head. Batman's eyes narrowed, which was a cue for everything but Clark knew his friend well enough to know that Batman was equally familiar with whatever Robin was alluding to.

"Or chi," Robin clarified. "The concept appears in various Asian traditions, which Bardock clearly has no problems assimilating into. Life energy, life force. Something that flows through the body and can be cultivated, manipulated and directed. I know the real-world traditions aren't necessarily describing an actual superhuman energy system, but Bardock's speech was almost literal. He can sense other people's energy, empowers himself with it. He can apparently release it externally if the day of the crash is anything to go by. I think the energy we've been detecting in his cells is a manifested physical form of this spiritual energy."

Zatara's expression had become intensely thoughtful. "That is not impossible. There are plenty of spirits and demons whose powers depends on ki/chi across Asia. Constantine would be more familiar with it than me, but I've never heard or seen a case where it manifested in such a material and mystical way."

Batman looked at him. "Is there even a remote possibility he's using magic?"

"No." Zatara replied. "Not necessarily. In fact, I suspect quite the opposite. Magic has structure. It has rules, traditions, languages, symbolic frameworks and external sources. What the boy is describing sounds considerably more... internal." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "There are traditions throughout human history that describe life-force, vital energy, spiritual circulation and internal cultivation. They are not identical, and I would caution against reducing them all to one concept. But if this Bardock possesses an actual biological or metaphysical energy system that functions in a manner analogous to those traditions, then 'chi' may indeed be the closest human term available."

"Which would explain why his physiology doesn't make sense," John Stewart observed. "If his body isn't simply generating energy but circulating something through…specialised pathways, our scans wouldn't necessarily know what they were looking at."

"Exactly," Zatara said. "And if his abilities are tied to that system, then the readings from the Watchtower may have been fundamentally misleading."

Clark remembered the first time he'd seen Bardock lying unconscious in the crater and then the med bay. The boy had looked almost ordinary. Young, physically imposing, heavily injured, but still recognisably humanoid. There had been nothing about him that immediately suggested he was capable of what he'd later demonstrated. The League's instruments had struggled to classify him, but perhaps that wasn't because their technology was inadequate. Perhaps they had simply been measuring the wrong thing.

Robin continued, "There's another reason I think that's important. He doesn't seem to be using his full power here."

That changed the mood again.

"How do you know?" Batman asked.

"I know you said no assumptions." Robin admitted. "But the digital report submitted by Superman mentioned some sort of state he was in when he crashed. He was considerably larger, more muscular and his hair was longer and green coloured. It could be some kind of transformation, powered by this energy to alter his battle power. It was able to create a pressure field that even a Kryptonian had trouble penetrating. Either he's deliberately not using it, or he's still recovering in some way."

John Stewart leaned forward. "So, the guy who knocked Superman through two walls and dropped Superboy with a finger might actually be operating below his normal capabilities?"

Robin nodded. "That's what I think."

Nobody spoke for several seconds. Clark looked around the room and realised that the same thought had occurred to everyone else. They had not met Bardock at his full strength.

Batman finally broke the silence. "Enough speculation. We have confirmed that Bardock possesses an unknown energy system, significant physical capabilities, advanced combat training, and a willingness to kill under certain circumstances. We also have confirmation that he is living peacefully within a civilian community and has not demonstrated an interest in conquest, mass violence or attacking the League."

Wonder Woman nodded slowly. "He may be dangerous, Bruce, but that does not make him an enemy."

"No." Batman agreed. "It doesn't. However, he's still acting outside the red lines. He may not be an enemy but he's still a criminal vigilante."

The distinction seemed important to Clark. The irony was funny though, considering they all started out as vigilantes themselves, for the most part. Green Arrow had at one point killed criminals himself before he was reigned in to less extreme measures.

Before anyone could continue, Batman stood. "That's enough for tonight. Superboy's condition will be monitored. No one approaches Bardock without authorisation. We continue gathering information, and we do not provoke him. He's expressed a willingness for amicable discussion, which is much more than can be said for other people we've encountered of his threat level, so the least useful thing to do is antagonise him." His eyes moved across the Team. "Dismissed."

Chairs shifted. Conversation began in low voices as the younger heroes gathered their things. Clark waited until the room had mostly emptied before stepping into the corridor. He had barely taken ten steps when he noticed someone leaning against the wall farther down.

Kara, attempting to look casual and spectacularly not succeeding.

Clark stopped. "How long have you been there?"

Kara straightened. "Long enough."

"Kara." Clark said, his tone full of warning.

"I just wanted to hear the report. Anything else besides all the farm animals I'm made to work with every day. Do you know how unnatural it is to still be scooping up faecal matter by hand?"

"Welcome to Earth. It was supposed to give you something to do. Back on topic, you weren't invited, nor authorised to be here."

"I know that."

Clark folded his arms. "Then why are we having this conversation?"

Kara pushed away from the wall, her expression already becoming defensive. "Because I wanted to know what happened. You were talking about someone who apparently has enough power to hurt you, and everyone keeps treating me like I should sit in a corner until I'm old enough to be trusted."

Clark's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "That's not what we're doing."

"Really? Because it feels exactly like that." Kara's eyes flashed with frustration. "I've been here long enough to understand the language, the culture, the technology. I can fly. I can fight. I can control most of what I can do."

"Most…" Clark repeated, "being the key word here."

 "The word matters. And I'm not a child." Kara frowned as she crossed her arms.

"I know you're not Kara."

"Then stop treating me like one!"

"I am treating you like someone who is still learning how to control abilities that can level buildings." Clark's tone sharpened. "You acclimated to Earth remarkably quickly, Kara. I'm proud of you for that. But understanding American television and knowing how to use a microwave doesn't mean you've mastered your strength. You've had incidents." Kara looked away, making Clark continue more gently with his cousin. "You lost control during training last week. You nearly put me through the simulator wall."

"I caught myself. And that was just the one time."

"Yes, you did catch yourself, after the wall was already halfway destroyed. And that's exactly why you're not going after Bardock."

Kara looked back at him immediately. "I wasn't asking permission."

Clark's eyes narrowed, his tone gaining more of a warning edge. "Kara."

"He's a murderer."

"He's also someone none of us fully understand."

"So? You want to let him keep killing people?"

"No. That's not what I or any of us have said."

"Then what? Isn't the whole 'killing is wrong' your schtick?"

"…Maybe letting you watch TV wasn't a good idea after all. It sounds wrong when you say it like that. And to answer your question, the point is to let time tell us the answers. Patience is key."

Kara laughed bitterly. "That's always the answer with you."

"Because sometimes it is the correct answer." Clark stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You don't know him. You don't know what his powers are. You don't know what happened when he crossed into this universe. You don't know what his limits are. And you certainly don't know what will happen if you approach him while trying to prove something to me."

Her expression hardened. "Maybe I do need to prove something to you."

Clark immediately understood as she turned away. "Kara. You don't have anything to prove." She didn't answer. "You're family," he continued. "You don't need to earn your place here by picking a fight with the most dangerous unknown we've encountered in months."

Kara's jaw tightened. "Then why does everyone else get to do it?"

"Because they're trained for situations like this."

"So am I."

"Not nearly enough. The Team could accidentally knock over a trashcan. You could stamp right through the freeway. And before you get started on Superboy, his powers are limited compared to ours and control has already been engineered into him."

The words landed harder than Clark intended. Kara looked at him for several seconds, hurt and anger warring across her face. "Fine. I'm heading back home."

Clark knew immediately that he'd set their relationship back a couple of places. Kara was trying so hard to fit into Earth, amongst a people she saw as inferior compared to the advanced culture and lifestyle of the Kryptonians. Even if she had lived most of her life in the Kryptonian outpost of Argo City, there were comforts she'd enjoyed that just weren't here on Earth. To make up for what she was missing, she wanted to be useful for a greater purpose, put her powers to use.

Her heart was in the right place…even if she had been born before him however, she was still mentally and physically a teenager thanks to the stasis.

"Kara." He called after her as she walked. She didn't stop.

Clark stood in the corridor watching her disappear around the corner, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. He knew her well enough to understand what that expression she'd tried to hide upon turning around meant. Something told him she wasn't as accepting of his position as she tried to pass off.

-+-

-Bardock-

I had just finished the roof when Mrs. Nakamura shouted up from the ground that she had spoken to some of the other women in the village about my house.

I stopped with one hand still resting against the final roof beam and looked down through the open side of the unfinished upper section. Mrs. Nakamura was standing beside the garden fence with two other women, all three of them looking up at me with the particular expression people used when they had already decided something on your behalf and were merely waiting for you to accept it. I had learned that expression rather quickly since coming here.

"They want to make you some carpets." Mrs. Nakamura called in Japanese, cupping her hands around her mouth so I could hear her over the wind. "And a proper futon. Yours is terrible."

I looked down at the perfectly serviceable bedding I'd bought from one of the nearby towns and then back at her. "There's nothing wrong with it."

She laughed. "That's what men always say."

I had no response to that, so I simply shrugged and went back to checking the roof. A few minutes later she called again to tell me that I wasn't to refuse because the women had already decided what colours would suit the room. I laughed under my breath. Apparently being adopted by a village came with obligations I hadn't known about.

The house was finally beginning to look like somewhere I could actually live. The walls were still unfinished in places, and I had more work to do inside, but the roof was secure now, which meant I could stop worrying about waking up to find half my belongings soaked because I'd underestimated the weather. I'd learned quite a bit about building over the last few weeks. It wasn't difficult once I understood the principles, although I had to resist the temptation to use strength whenever something refused to fit.

Breaking a beam because I couldn't be bothered to adjust it properly was considerably less efficient than simply measuring twice. Hiroshi had laughed at me the first time I'd snapped a piece of timber and told me that strength wasn't a substitute for patience. I'd told him that it usually was. He'd told me that was exactly why I needed the practice. Annoyingly, he had been right.

I climbed down from the roof, brushed the dust and wood shavings from my trousers, and went inside. The house smelled faintly of fresh timber and the food I'd cooked earlier. I opened one of the capsules containing my personal belongings and retrieved a shirt and a pair of combat boots. The shirt was tight-fitting, black and comfortable enough that it didn't interfere with movement. The boots were heavier than the sandals I'd been wearing around the village, but I preferred them when I was flying or moving at speed.

There was something reassuring about wearing proper clothing when I went out to train. It reminded me that I wasn't simply some strange alien hiding in a village anymore. I had a life here, even if I hadn't decided how long that life would last.

I stepped outside and looked toward the fields. The sun was beginning to sink, painting the distant mountains in warm colours while the evening breeze moved through the rice. It would be nice to get some air. I had spent most of the afternoon working, and although I enjoyed it, there was only so much sitting around a half-built house that I could tolerate before my body started demanding movement. I thought I'd fly over the province, maybe circle the mountains, perhaps stop somewhere high enough to watch the sunset properly. It was one of the few luxuries I could enjoy without anyone asking me what I was doing. Flying was freedom. There was no road, no destination and no reason to hurry. I could simply point myself toward the horizon and go.

I had just bent my knees to take off when something crashed through the roof. The sound was horrifyingly spectacular. Wood exploded inward. Tiles and splinters scattered across the room, dust erupted into the air, and a blonde-haired girl wearing a blue top, a red skirt and red boots came down through the ceiling like someone had deliberately dropped a small meteor into my new house. She hit the floor hard enough to crack several of the freshly installed boards beneath her boots. For a moment I simply stared at her. Then I looked up to see a sizeable hole in my roof. I looked back down at her. She was wearing a familiar symbol across her chest. I recognised it from the television, Superman's symbol. My eye twitched as my temper quickly started bubbling.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." I growled out, knowing full well Aunt Chichi would smack me with her pan if she heard me curse right now.

The girl pushed herself upright, apparently not particularly bothered by the impact. She was young. Younger than Superman, certainly, although I had no idea how young she actually was. Maybe eighteen years? Her blonde hair was slightly dishevelled from the crash, but she looked otherwise perfectly fine. She looked at me with a mixture of determination and uncertainty, as though she hadn't expected me to be standing there waiting for her.

"You're Bardock." She said as more of a question than a statement.

"That's not the answer I asked for." I pointed toward the hole above us. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to build that?!"

She glanced upward. "I-"

"That roof was finished ten minutes ago!"

She looked back at me. I could practically see the realisation settling in. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, you're not."

"I am."

"And yet you're about to make this worse, aren't you? I thought I told you assholes I was willing to talk, not open to having blonde missiles blow holes through my newly tiled roof!"

Her expression hardened. "I'm Supergirl."

I stared at her. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" It was a genuine question. I'd not seen this girl anywhere on the news.

"My cousin is Superman."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out from the symbol."

She squared her shoulders, putting her fists on her hips. "I'm here to take you in."

I sighed. Because of course she was. She wasn't there amongst those other kids to get the memo. "You people really need to learn how to introduce yourselves before announcing that you're arresting somebody."

"You're wanted for questioning."

"I've already been told that. I said I was open to a discussion. I trusted you would know what happens if you tried to drag me in."

"Then you know why I'm here."

"No. I know why the League wants me. You alone are apparently here because you decided to ignore whatever instructions they gave you. It's written all over you. Rebellious and strong-willed…and reckless."

Her jaw tightened, telling me I'd guessed correctly. I could feel the energy coming off her now. It was unmistakably similar to Superman's, though there were differences. The same strange biological foundation, the same strange component, the same overwhelming physical potential that didn't correspond neatly to the life-force I could sense. She was powerful. Very powerful by this world's standards. She was also angry and inexperienced given how her own energy was being coloured by a frankly immature anger. A combination that usually ended badly.

"I don't exactly want to fight you." I told her. "I'm not sure you'd live it down."

"We'll see about that. Because you're coming with me, if I have to drag you in by that tail you loud-mouthed monkey!"

Oh, she'd done it now! The blonde bimbo little bitch just pressed the FUCKING MONKEY BUTTON!

She lunged but I moved before she finished the first step. Her fist passed beside my face, and I turned with it, letting the momentum carry her past. She recovered quickly and came at me again with a second strike. I parried it with my forearm, redirected her shoulder and stepped inside her guard. Her other hand came toward my ribs. I caught her wrist, twisted just enough to break her line of attack and shoved her away.

She recovered in the air faster than I'd expected…not enough to change the outcome of this fight. She came at me again, this time with a combination that was much better than her opening attack. Punch, kick, elbow, another punch. There was power behind all of it, but the technique was rough, absent really. It spoke of someone that did have some minimal training, but really a passing grade in my books.

She relied on speed and strength rather than actually reading my movements. I slipped past each strike, redirecting her rather than blocking anything head-on. She was strong enough that I could feel the air pressure changing around her blows. Pissed as I was, it was getting exciting. Then I saw an opening. My palm struck the centre of her chest and I didn't put much into it, just enough that the impact sent her skidding backwards across my floor, boots carving lines through the wood before she finally stopped herself near the opposite wall.

I observed the damage to my house as a vein started pulsating in my forehead.

"You're picking up the tab for the repairs!" She looked stunned, the wind having been knocked out of her as all the components of her upper body had taken a rattling. My body blurred forwards, then I was behind her, one hand closing around the small red cape attached to her shoulders. She turned to see me grinning. "If we're going to do this, then let's use the open space!" I hurled her upwards, the roof exploding for the second time. I watched her shoot into the sky through the new opening, and for a moment I simply stared at the enormous hole where my roof had been. I closed my eyes and I breathed in.

Then I disappeared, the world snapping around me as I reappeared behind her high above the village, one hand already drawn back. She barely had time to turn before my fist caught her squarely in the back and sent her plummeting toward the river below. I deliberately held back. The point wasn't to kill her; it was to get her away from the village and make it clear that picking a fight with me had consequences. She hit the water and rather than sinking, she skipped across it like a stone three times. The force of the impacts sent enormous sheets of water exploding upward behind her. She finally struck the muddy bank and rolled across it, tearing through vegetation before coming to a stop.

I appeared beside her as she already began moving. Good, she could take the righteous punishment I was about to deliver. She came up swinging, and I ducked beneath the punch before pivoting on my heel. My leg came around, the tornado kick catching her across the side and launching her towards the distant mountain range. The shockwave that followed flattened trees in a widening line beneath us. I watched her disappear toward the mountains, then I teleported again. She hit the side of the mountain hard enough to send stone cascading down the slope. Before she could recover, I was above her. She looked up as I drove my fist downward with more power this time, sending her into the ground with enough force to produce a crater several dozen metres across.

Earth erupted outward. Rocks and debris were thrown into the surrounding forest, some travelling for miles before finally losing their momentum. I stopped above the crater, dust rolled through the air beneath me as I slowly descended. I could see her lying at the bottom, scuffed but still alive. I hadn't exactly given her love taps but she looked like she'd not really been affected besides being a little dazed. I hadn't even come close to using my full strength though, so she'd go down for good eventually. I folded my arms as I hovered above the crater and looked down at her.

"You know," I called through the settling dust, "I was actually having a very pleasant evening. I'd finished my roof and the nice village ladies were going to make me carpets. And a new futon. I might have even gotten around to having some of their food. You know, one of them makes some killer Daifuku." I lowered myself another few metres. She finally managed to lift her head as I pointed towards the horizon, my expression hardening. "You destroyed my damn roof, you upstart little collateral damage Barbie doll. So once I've given you a good ass beating, you're going to pay for it in full!"

Her response was to jump out of the crater, the pressure of her launch cracking the ground further as she rocketed towards me with her fists in front of her.