I swirled my drink as I stared out the windows of my penthouse.
…It's not like I didn't understand why they left.
Getting teleported to an alien planet and then being forced to witness a deathmatch would be pretty jarring. I'd gotten pretty inured to crazy shit, so I think I'd gotten too used to brushing stuff like this off. Plus, with Volition bolstering my mind… God, I must've looked like a crazy person to them.
I knocked back my drink. "Ugh…" Palming my face, I muttered, "Of course they'd be shocked! If I were a normal Joe in their shoes, I'd leave too."
Hopefully they weren't too traumatized by the whole thing. Bruce was a Gothamite, so he'd be fine… probably. Clark, though… I grimaced. I could probably kiss that interview goodbye. Poor guy freaking called a Justice Leaguer to bail him out.
Honestly, I was curious how the hell a reporter seemingly had Supergirl on speed dial. I guess he must've lived a pretty storied life despite his ordinary appearance.
A song touched my ears, and I looked over to Simmy as she slowly raised a tablet. She must've read the curiosity on my face.
"It's fine." I waved my hand toward Simmy. "I gave Clark enough trouble for one night. Not gonna dig up all his secrets."
Simmy floated the tablet toward me, her song seemingly insisting, but I wasn't gonna budge on this. I might be a crook… but, well, I've got my own code. The poor dude had suffered enough from my luck already. I wasn't going to disrespect him by digging into his affairs just because I was curious.
Besides, I still kind of wanted that interview. Maybe I should send him a gift basket or something.
Plus, I doubted a normal Joe like Clark had any crazy secrets.
Seeing that I wasn't budging, Simmy gave me the song equivalent of a huff before flying away to go do whatever Angel things she did. I felt a tad bit bad since she definitely seemed like she wanted to show off. Probably should get her a congratulatory gift for that too.
Yeah, I was probably going to need to start getting lots of gifts these days. Between dealing with Darkseid's expectations and cleaning out the rest of the Court of Owls, I had plenty on my plate.
"Ahhh, work, work." I blew out a breath as I fell back onto the couch. "...Should really check how the party's going downstairs too."
Still, before all that…
Sitting in the back of my mind, a diamond ticket shone.
Come to papa.
[Rolling Diamond Gacha Ticket]
[Robot Assembly]
|Epic Item|
An advanced room-sized station that allows you to assemble robots by inputting raw materials that are converted into robot parts, which can then be assembled into robots. The robots that can be assembled depend on the blueprints fed into the machine. By default, the machine has access to the blueprints of Fallout Robots. The quality of the robot parts depends on the quality of the materials fed into the machine.
I couldn't help but jump up as I looked over the Robot Assembly's description.
That's nice.
Very nice.
I wasn't sure how strong "Fallout Robots" were, but an improvable robot assembly line? That had me practically salivating at the potential. There had been plenty of robots wreaking havoc across the world, so getting my hands on some plans shouldn't be too hard.
God, if… I could somehow get my hands on Amazo schematics…
A low chuckle slowly escaped me before evolving into a full-blown villainous cackle.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
—
Vandal Savage had much experience with failure. The sands of time ensured that no man, even one as great as himself, could truly live without experiencing that bitter taste.
Still, his life over the millennia had taught him one valuable lesson.
No failure was beyond recovery, provided one possessed the will and strength to rise from it. As long as breath filled your lungs, failure was merely a lesson to be learned from, something to make you stronger.
It was why he found the so-called heroes so contemptible. They stifled humanity's potential by coddling them with the false certainty of protection. In order to shatter such naivety, he had formed the Light.
With him at its helm, the Light had recruited like-minded talents and seen success after success, all while the little Justice League remained none the wiser. He grew ever closer to ensuring Earth's dominance among the stars.
Yet, as always, failure found a way to rear its ugly head.
Klarion's loss was perhaps one of his greatest setbacks in centuries, both in terms of resources and pride. Clearing out the smell had been… difficult. But without the Witch Boy, Vandal's mystical resources were meager, an oversight he had been working to resolve with little success.
The Starro-Tech was a wonder of technosorcery, but it remained incomplete. Finding a suitable magician who could match Klarion's power was proving nearly impossible.
Still, he was not discouraged.
If magic could not suit his needs, then he would seek other avenues.
Finding a technological solution to completing the Starro-Tech would require research, but that was the reason he recruited useful talents into the Light in the first place.
Yet these supposed geniuses…
Vandal scoffed.
Luthor, the arrogant fool, was currently caught up in some financial crisis. The young man was wasting his time on mundane concerns rather than prioritizing matters of actual importance. Meanwhile, the Brain was nearly as useless. The disembodied abomination had grown almost possessed with studying these so-called potions.
If these failures stood alone, Vandal would have merely moved past them.
Yet…
The root cause of nearly all his current troubles could be traced back to one source.
The Goonion.
Vandal felt wrath just thinking that foolish name.
Organizations had, of course, foolishly defied him in the past. But perhaps, even across his millennia of existence, this was the first time one had ruined so many of his plans through sheer happenstance.
A foolish man would lash out in anger. But even with his heart filled with wrath, Vandal's mind was not such a fragile thing.
No. From his failures, he could find the correct path.
Vandal let out a hum of satisfaction as the Father Box lit up. His moves to entice Apokolips had been at least a partial success. A projection of Apokolips appeared across the walls of his cavernous base, revealing an elderly woman standing on the other side.
"Granny Goodness," Vandal greeted. "I trust you bring good news?"
"Hohoho. Impatient, impatient." Granny Goodness chortled good-naturedly, as if she were a kindly elder rather than an alien monster. "Allow me to offer my thanks first, young man. Truly, the little human pretties you sent me were simply wonderful. Even Lord Darkseid praised my work. I have since been elevated to steward of Apokolips."
"Desaad relinquished the position?" Vandal frowned.
Granny Goodness gave him a broad, toothy grin. "Oh, quite so. When his head was smashed into paste."
Vandal felt one eyebrow rise slightly. Apokolips was not a place known for sudden change. He would have to look into that later.
"Our deal, then?"
"Of course, of course." Granny Goodness chuckled. "I have spoken with Lord Darkseid, and our previous agreement shall still be honored."
Vandal kept his expression placid, even as satisfaction filled him.
Failure truly was the most useful teacher.
"Then shall you serve as Apokolips's representative in future dealings?"
"No." Granny Goodness's face scrunched up. "Lord Darkseid has seen fit to appoint a… mortal advisor from your planet to handle Apokolips's interests on Earth. You will speak with him to ensure Darkseid's will is carried out."
"Of course." Vandal nodded. "I will endeavor to meet Lord Darkseid's requirements. Who is this esteemed advisor?"
Granny Goodness sniffed. "I believe his name was…"
An Earthling?
Interesting.
There was potential opportunity there. Swaying Darkseid's agent and making him his own would be quite the boon in recouping his recent losses from–
"Jean Valjean."
…What?
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.