The cavernous space beneath a hollowed-out mountain was quite impressive. Its centerpiece was another of the ridiculously high-tech computer systems that fit with the genre convention of superhero groups. Perhaps only the memetic Batcave computers could rival it. Surrounding the planning space beneath the hologram-capable computer were a hangar, a fully-stocked kitchen, a lounge, and access to the ocean through an tunnel that connected the interior to the Atlantic. Beyond that, I wanted to explore more of the space, but there were more important things to discuss.
All the sidekicks - excepting Troia - were in assembly, dressed not in uniform but instead in civilian clothing. Only Robin tried to hide his face through surprisingly effective sunglasses, while the rest proudly displayed their faces and did not mask their identities. If I spotted Robin - likely Dick Grayson - on the street, I'd recognize him without the glasses, but I had to admit they did well to hide some of his facial features. More impressively hidden was the uniformed Batman who stood opposite us, ready to give a speech to us as the current chairman of the Justice League.
Kid Flash - the obvious redheaded Wally West now that I'd seen him unmasked - bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, while his mentor - Barry, more than likely - rested a comfortable hand on his nephew's shoulder to steady him.
Kaldur stood proudly and at attention next to his king, Aquaman, who was easily the most jacked man in the room. It was impressive just how large the Atlantean was, and it was no wonder that they'd decided to use someone like Mamoa to play him. His sidekick glanced wistfully at the ocean access tunnel, hands crossed behind his back.
Superman did not stand in attendance for the meeting, leaving Superboy once more in the dark. I did not need to ask to know that he held barely contained fury behind his muscles, and despite Aquaman's stature, I had no doubt who would win in a contest of martial strength. The clone was the physically most powerful person in the room, and the one person he wanted to respect him blew him off.
A few other Leaguers were present. Captain Marvel - or Shazam? - helped ready some of the heavier equipment into place as they retrofitted the old base into something worthy of our use. Red Tornado, a character I knew only briefly, rested as still as a statue when not addressed directly, bringing an uncanny valley with me that was far worse than the Aggrebots had been on Osmos V. Black Canary stood proudly near Batman, and I wondered what role that she might play for us given her prominent role in the conversation.
Other Leaguers were in assembly, and it was difficult not to notice how... normal they all felt. They were uniformed, sure, but they were not striking poses for the public cameras. Canary fidgeted with the bracelet on her left hand. Bruce let his shoulders droop - something that was barely noticable in the armored padding. Hawkwoman adjusted her wing into a more comfortable position, the way one might if you stood still for too long.
Even with that... normalcy?
All in all, this was what I had wanted - to make an impact, to gain an insight, to help influence these individuals to assist in the assault on the Reach Empire. I was not under the illusion that this was all it would take to win, nor that this path was a guarantee. Truthfully, the thrill of interacting with these folks at all was its own reward, even if the eventual shift might come later.
But they were people.
Hmmm.
"This cave was the original secret sanctuary of the Justice League," Batman finally began, pulling me from my reverie. "We're calling it into service again."
I glanced toward Robin, who had a smirk on his face.
"Since you all are determined to stay together and fight the good fight," Batman continued, "you'll do it on League terms."
Right.
I had no qualms about the arrangement. A covert ops squad of trainee superheroes was an intriguing idea, and it fit neatly into my experiences on Osmos V with Carnifex. I had a small, unshaking anxiety about what kind of missions they would have us perform, but this was not some dark money mercenary black ops organization. These were the "paragons of justice." Doubted they'd send us somewhere we should not go, nor somewhere they did not think us ready to go.
The statue-esque android covered in hot red red paint stepped forward, a nearly silent movement that whispered of spinning gyros and pistons. "I have volunteered to live here and caretake the overall functions of this team."
"A robot boss?" I asked aloud.
"I will not be your immediate boss, but as on-site representative of the Justice League, my word will have supervisory power when necessary."
Batman interjected. "Red Tornado will primarily watch over the grounds and ensure that you behave."
"C'mon, Bats - do I look like the type of guy to throw wild parties?"
Kaldur and Robin immediately said, "Yes." Wally's dejected look brought a smile to my face.
Kids.
And they were kids.
I taught kids Robin's age. It was impossible to imagine one of them fighting armed thugs, much less wizards and aliens and whatever else goes bump in the night. If this were a world where the superheroes didn't have decades of stories in my head before I found them, I think I'd view them all very differently. Robin really was thirteen, not the perpetual thirteen year old who'd gone through nearly a century of stories. The mask, the tights, the cape - did that make these guys legends?
Black Canary - Dinah or Laurel? - shifted her weight and nodded slightly. "I will supervise training sessions."
There were mixed reactions among the group about this, but I knew from various media that Canary was nearly the prototype for the badass female action heroine in movies and television. She could hang with the best of 'em. Carnifex had provided training during my tenure, but that training was not so much for skill as it was power. I'm sure I could learn a lot from her.
"And I will deploy you on missions."
"Real missions?" Robin asked his mentor.
"Yes, but covert," Batman explained.
Flash and Aquaman provided insight that the League needed a covert squad to handle the areas where they could not afford to go because of public celebrity or other potential red tape. It made sense - someone like Batman had the skill to infiltrate an enemy's base, but did Superman or either Green Lantern? Their overall flashiness was as much a boon as a hindrance in certain types of missions.
I was game for anything. Anything that put me on the map in their eyes.
"The six of you will be that Team."
I grinned. "So Troia did-"
The whirring voice of the machine behind us announced the presence of our new visitors, teleported in from another location on their network of "Zeta-Tubes." It was an incredible invention that meant someone like Green Arrow could get to the scene of a disaster nearly as fast as someone who could fly there.
But it was not Wonder Woman and Troia.
Instead, Martian Manhunter strode through the golden flash of light, and with him, someone the computer called Miss Martian. Both of the aliens held green skin, but the younger, nervous girl was altogether more human in appearance than the other Martian, with his bald, elongated head. Her blue and white outfit was rather cutesy for the kind of work that they were about to do, but if she had any of the powers of the other Martian, she could wear whatever the hell she wanted.
"Children, this is my niece."
The girl sheepishly raised an arm and waved. "Hi."
"Glad to meet you," I suggested, cutting off a whispered comment from Wally. "Batman, was there no word from Troia?"
The Dark Knight dismissed it. "Troia declined the invitation."
"But why?" Aqualad asked. "She was effective during the Cadmus search."
"That is a question better served for her."
I relented the idea, wondering about how we might replace such a powerhouse. Perhaps I was overestimating the kinds of things a covert squad might end up doing, but the more muscle we had, the better we would be at facing down any threat. If Troia rejected the call now, was that a sign that my ultimate goal might be folly? Would other powerful individuals around the world refuse the call when asked to assist?
Crippling the Reach was an all hands on deck situation.
NEW YORK CITY
JULY 7, 18:24 UTC -4
TEAM YEAR ZERO
"We have a problem."
The phone slid across the pristine desk and would have fallen had Whisper A'Daire not been ready for it. She snatched it with practiced hands and pressed play on the audio file. While it began, she met the eyes of her partner in crime, Bruno Manheim, his mustached face rather grimy with sweat.
"... I didn't tell 'im nothing!" the heavily accented man said in the recording, clearly of Brooklyn origin. "Alls' he asked about was-"
"The fact that the kid even got this close to you is a problem." A gunshot and a pained scream.
Whisper rose an eyebrow and hit pause. "Which of our agents do I owe a reward?"
Bruno snickered. "That'd be Terrance. Working closely with Sixsix these days."
Whisper rolled her eyes. "So, not to Terrance then. That idiot wouldn't know where to find his dick."
Her partner laughed harder.
Whisper continued the recording, admiring the view from the warehouse windows, the docks around them feeling rather like home these days. The harbor wasn't pretty by any means, but the distant Statue of Liberty was a reminder of her ultimate goal - freedom.
"I d-didn't mean to-" another grunt and loud thud - "One o' my guys spotted him leavin' Greenwich in the dead of night. Flew right out of a building - swear."
"Ya better not be lying, or the Terminator'll have your head."
Whisper raised an eyebrow as the recording ended. "Huh. That narrows it down."
"That it does," Bruno agreed. "We got resources to send, manpower to use. Maybe we put men on watch, wait for-"
She shook her head. "No. We leverage this information with Wilson."
Bruno bristled at that. Whisper did not hold the same lack of enthusiasm for Slade's involvement in Intergang's affairs, but it was a contract worth paying. The mercenary helped even out other assets they used with his very human element, and Whisper valued that perspective among their top resources.
Bruno just hated the idea of sharing space with the other man. Egos.
"Take down the kid," Bruno declared, "and New York becomes our playpen again."
Whisper nodded. "And Slade gets us closer to that."
"How about we pull some higher level tech?" Manheim suggested instead. "Sophisticated tools primed to his powers."
Whisper considered it for a long moment. "That would require more time, resources, and research. But I'm not opposed to the idea. For now? We watch for his home turf. Get him under tight surveillance. Pull some strings, Manheim."
The man relented, pulled his phone to his ear, and stepped into the hallway.
Whisper tapped her fingers restlessly against the counter-top.
This idiot kid could turn to metal, to wood, to... anything. Fly, shoot lasers. He barreled through conventional weaponry, and this recording made it clear enough. This kid wanted Intergang gone.
She pondered the idea of slipping into the shadows again. It wouldn't be the first time their organization slithered away from the eyes of a damn flying brick. If Superman were more determined, he'd have pursued them from Metropolis. No - Whisper all but pulled every resource and connection out of the City of Tomorrow and reinforced what was there in the City That Never Sleeps.
That had been two years ago.
Two years was a long time to build up influence under any normal circumstance. Doing so while trying to avoid the ire of the Boy Scout Troupe? That was harder, and even now, they didn't have every gang or criminal element in the city under their lock and key. Ultimately, hiding from the League slowed them down greatly.
She cursed this kid under her breath.
"Manheim."
The man stepped into the room, still on the phone with one of their contacts.
"Let's prep for our next big move."
For a second, he said nothing and merely stared.
And then, Bruno Manheim grinned, yellow teeth dingy in the night.
MARS
JULY 9, 16:02 UTC -4
TEAM YEAR ZERO
Kyle checked, double checked, and triple checked the enviro-suit was operational. He didn't yet have the implant that interacted with his vision to display data directly, but he understood the specs enough to know that he would be fine the moment he stepped onto the barren rock that held so many secrets within.
Gabriel placed a palm against the safety pod's exit door. Dressed in the black, white, and green of a proper Plumber, Kyle thought his dad looked incredible. "You ready?"
Kyle itched to do something to prove this summer wasn't a waste. Going on a space adventure with his real dad, his birth dad, his awesome space spy dad? How could he not be ready?
At his answer, the pod door opened and exposed them to the atmosphere of Mars. The red, sandy desert of its surface belied the cultures that lived beneath it, to speak nothing of the strange, hardy life forms that lived across its dunes. Life had taken a different route from that on Earth, from that on other planets he'd read a bit about, and Kyle wanted to see it all.
"I don't expect this to be a serious matter," Gabriel said with a raised voice over the wind storm. "We should be back home within a handful of days."
Kyle rose an eyebrow. "What are we doing here? You only said it was reconnaissance."
Gabriel cleared his throat. "Oa thinks it's nothing more than a minor disturbance of local ecology."
Kyle didn't buy that. "So? Send a science team. Lantern escort. This doesn't feel-"
"Orders are orders, Kyle."
He froze. "Oh, I wasn't- wasn't questioning the plan. I'm grateful. We're on Mars! We are gonna meet tons of cool people like the Manhunter."
Gabriel shook his head. "Our interactions will be limited, at best, to a predetermined contact." When he didn't elaborate, Kyle pressed the issue. Finally, the man added, "Plumbers often operate without the knowledge of the people on a planet. Given the way these Martians live, best practice is to approach someone on the top and let them know what we are seeking to do."
The man clicked his belt and summoned a hoverboard, the green energy of Oa flowing through it to lift it from the ground. Before he could hop on and fly toward their checkpoint, Kyle raised a hand.
"What way do they live?"
The adult tapped his temple. "The Martian species are mind-readers. They can talk to others through their mind only, even people like us of another species. Word is going to travel fast when we interact with the first community, and we need to cut off any confusion quickly."
"Who then?"
"When we see our first Martians," Gabriel explained as he rose into the air on the board, "try not to think of anything but your art. Focus on that. If you must think of something else, think of your need to talk to Prince J'emm."
Kyle sputtered even as he rose onto his own hoverboard. The training program still ran, but he was all too excited to ride every time he got the chance. "The prince?!"
MUMBAI
JULY 9, 20:11 UTC -4
TEAM YEAR ZERO
"Kent."
"You're going to run yourself ragged, girl."
Jinx stood at the apex of a temple that she barely remembered, but one that felt all too familiar in her very toes. She had once walked these halls, perhaps even before she knew how to talk. A primal connection forged into the elemental confluence here, faint but present, let her know that this was where she had come, once.
Concentric circles tied to the elements - mandalas connected to each primal force she could bend to her will in the right circumstances - surrounded her. Temple attendants watched her with interest, those that she had convinced to make this attempt at communion and understanding. At her back stood a paragon of an entirely different form of magic, or at least a vestige of its borrowed might in human form without the Helmet. The old man's eyes were not judgmental even as he studied the sash in her hand.
"I've tried everything," she finally stated. "Everything I know to do."
Kent caught her gaze as he circled the path she had carved into the stone by hand, rather than by mystical might. She did not need to feel his emotions, to tap into his life force, to know what he thought.
"The Tower brought me here when I sought more answers," she lied.
"Hmm."
"'Hmm?'"
A small smile broke onto his lips.
"I want to know the Charms of Bezel, Kent," she demanded. "Clearly, your Tower does too, because it brought me here."
Kent carefully leaned on his gold-topped cane and slowly crossed his legs to sit across from her. His meditative pose was all wrong, but she didn't need to tell him that.
"So you step foot into a temple where you once spilled blood. Your actions seeped into those stones here as easily as it would stain crimson."
She froze, hands gripping the sash.
"... I didn't-"
"The men and women in this place are terrified of you," he continued.
Jinx shook her head, though uncertain.
"No, that-"
"They think you are a gray spirit of destruction, Jinx. One that once sundered the stone of these walls more than a decade ago, that killed nearly a dozen devotees."
Her knuckles whitened.
"Your path - fated or no - may have led you here, but what assurances did you make? Did you assuage their fear? Did you promise them you mean no harm?"
The girl nearly exploded, wind gust whipping into a frenzy. As it revolved around the room, Kent's form did not so much as react in any minute detail to the force of displaced air.
"Of course I did!"
A balding temple orderly gasped as she threw our her hand in protest.
"Jinx, you have disturbed their peace once more."
"Once more?" she shouted. "Kent, I -. Tney... treated me like a freak! They denied me food, denied me water, denied me anything!"
At the word water, a small cloud formed overhead and began to drench the open-air pavilion atop the platform. Water fell on everything except the elderly man himself, black suit as pristine as ever.
"You were not ready to return to this place. Not ready to endure the memory of their transgressions against you. Nor were you ready to face the consequences of your transgressions against them."
Kent clapped his cane onto the stone below and s shimmer of slight golden light echoed throughout the chamber. An illusion - an after image, perhaps - revealed emotions in flux and lives ruined after the pain of what they did to her, and what she did to them.
"Oh that's rich," she muttered, looking away from the psychometric memory of that night, a night where she forced them to endure the pain they had inflicted on her.
Every misfortune, every element twisted against them.
"You tell me I'm not ready, and then you force me to watch it."
"Not it, not that night," Kent explained. "Look on."
She forced herself to watch the memories unfold in flashes of gold.
Men and women picked up the pieces after her toddler self unleashed devastation.
The local government coordinated disaster relief efforts to restore the physical space she had broken.
Shamans from another culture entirely banished spirits she had inadvertently invited onto the space - or perhaps ones that she created through the accidental deaths of her immediate caretakers.
The temple and its inhabitants slowly rebuilt the space and its community. Shame. Regret. Introspection. As many felt remorse for what they did to her as felt pride that they had removed a dangerous element.
All of it a stain on the elemental confluence as much as a stain on their life force, their souls.
Misfortune wasn't even the half of it.
Jinx didn't notice when she had started crying.
Nor had she noticed when one of the temple maidens covered her in cloth.
Kent dispersed the magic of memory.
Jinx wiped away the emotion and frowned in frustration. She wasn't about to forgive all of this, to make them feel any better about what they did.
But the fight wasnt in her.
"... what now?"
The elderly man gestured to the sash.
"Perhaps you should try your spell again," he explained. "You were right to assume a place of significance to you may give you the juice you need."
She blinked, wiping away a tear. "But you said-"
"I've learned not to stand in the way of Fate, Jinx."
And so, the girl began another series of divination rituals. The sash was the key to the Charms of Bezel, items she wasn't sure she truly grasped, but ones she felt responsible for uncovering. She focused on that key, on the confluence of magic that centered this temple, that had perhaps created her.
Flashing infomation crossed her vision, her sense of smell, of hearing and taste. Fragments of confusion and insight became one and the same, and she... finally understood.
"The Winter Solstice," she muttered, exasperated. "I... know where one is! A-and we... have a few months before another finds them all and unravels everything in his hex."
Kent halted, face white.
"Hex."