Rapprochement

30th August
06:13 GMT -4

"…review of the LexPharma research schedule at seven, followed by a meeting with the department heads at nine."

I watch through the hush tube as Lex nods to Ms Graves, taking a bite from his jam-covered muffin as he does so. Strawberry, if I'm any judge. There's a small pot of coffee which the two of them appear to be sharing. Ms Graves appears to favour muesli.

Rather domestic.

Ms Graves' eyes move from her tablet to Lex's face as she moves to the next item. "The interim report from the Special Projects auditors is at one, but that can easily be moved if the meeting or lunch overrun."

I stride through. "Or you could just-" Lex chokes slightly and Ms Graves shoots to her feet, gun arm prepped. "-cancel the whole thing." I grin and spread my arms wide as if offering to hug any volunteers. "Because I'm baaaack!"

Ms Graves' eyes flick to her employer, who is trying to dislodge muffin from his windpipe without appearing at all unsettled.

"And I bring you the gift of seeds!" I toss a sack of Deca seeds to the floor next to the table they're eating from. "Trust me, those things are amazing."

"Grauhugh." Lex takes a breath, then a sip of water. "Grayven. You look well."

"You have no idea how good it was to get away from this planet and go somewhere where I could just ram fixes through." I gesticulate. "See arsehole, cut arsehole in half with giant sword. I needed that so much."

"I'm.. glad to hear that your vacation went well. Might I enquire as to-" He raises his eyebrow at the seed sack. "-where you went?"

"If you're still alive in sixty years, look towards Vega and you might see me waving." I grin. "But what have you been up to?"

Lex sighs faintly, then makes a small motion with his right hand which prompts Ms Graves to sit down and stow her gun. "Damage control, mostly. The regulatory regime LexCorps is now forced to operate under is onerous in the extreme. I've had.. feelers out, trying to acquire assets that might have been missed when the businesses owned by other members of the Light were…"

"Brutally slaughtered like the Pig-Dogs they were?"

"…yes." He sighs again. "Unfortunately, the legitimate parts of the businesses they owned were owned with several cut outs between them and any overt criminality. I suspect that their managers are quite happy knowing that their late employers will no longer be making any demands on them, but that does mean that my leverage is unusually limited."

"I'll have a poke around. I know Savage's next of kin, I'm sure I can sort something out."

"I imagine that the entire Human race is descended from the late Mister Savage to some degree."

"No, his actual heir. A woman he raised to be a majordomo, or.. something." I take a step towards the table and crouch down. "But what about the other thing?"

"The.. other thing, Grayven?"

"Yes, the other thing." He looks somewhat blank. "The other thing? You know, I persuaded Horne and Lane not to have you killed, then I came here and we had a little chat?"

"I.. remember the incident extremely well."

"And… I said that I wanted you to assemble.. a group..? People with skills on a level with the late members of the Light, but less stupid? You remember that, right?" Lex looks impassive. I turn to Ms Graves. "You.. remember that, right? I didn't just stroke the whole thing, did I?"

"Grayven." Lex sighs. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't fulfill that demand. Every one of my.. contacts in that sphere is avoiding me like I'm a plague-bearing Rat. They believe that having contact with me risks bringing down the wrath of the government, the Justice League, or worse, you. And if they weren't..? Why would I bring them and risk losing their skills on the end of your sword because you did not consider them to be suitably 'rational'?"

"You-. You.. mean you haven't got anyone?" Whaw, I was… Not expecting that. "I mean, we're not exactly short of supervillains around here."

"Oh, certainly. I imagine that I could dodge DMA snipers for just about long enough to make contact with a few utter unknowns. People who would add little to your efforts. Would you like me to write down their contact details for you?"

I screw up my face. "No? Of course not. I just…" My hands flap around as I try to organise my thoughts on the issue. "They didn't even have to be supervillains. I thought you'd-."

"I'm not a miracle worker, Mister Grayven. As things stand I'm not even certain how much I can help you. Though do feel free to destroy my window again: I've almost gotten to the point where I miss Superman doing that."

This… Is… Disappointing. And irritating. I lower my head slightly, sighing under my breath. "Can I assume that -if you can do so without being shot- you're still interested in participating?"

"I tolerated Klarion. I'm sure that I can tolerate you."

My jaw tightens, and I jab my right forefinger at him. "Not an intelligent thing to say to me, Mister Luthor." Okay. "Right, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to find people instead. I'm going to talk to them about our ideology and how working with us serves their interests too. And you don't get a veto anymore! I'll just pick people, and they'll… And they'll turn up, and you can like it or lump it! I was not expecting you to fail to network."

Lex appears unfazed, taking a small sip of coffee as I try to get my breathing under control. There's a quiet 'clink' as he sets his cup down in its saucer. "And.. I.. wish you the best of luck. I'm not sure where you hope to find such people-."

"You'd be amazed where I can find people."

"I'll look forward to meeting them. Have you…" He gestures to his table with his right hand. "Had.. breakfast? I'm sure that we can-."

"I'll be eating breakfast in two hours with my household, thank you very much." I turn away from them. "Mother Box, boom tube."

BOOM!

Ugh, but where am I actually going? The Mountain? No, I'd just be hanging around. Tamaran? No, I should get on this recruitment thing as soon as possible.

Who's going to be awake and active at this time of day?

…

30th August
09:16 GMT -1

I stride through the portal and into the Venturian palace, couriers looking around as I approach the table around which she and her inner circle are seated. "Queen Clea, sorry to barge in like this-."

She straightens slightly on her throne-like chair at the head of the table. "I would be astonished if that were true."

"Okay, it's not. I'm just being polite."

"Thank Atlan for small mercies." She puts down a scroll. "Since you're here, I assume that you want something. Are you going to tell me what it is, or do you want to pontificate for a little while first?"

"The second, obviously." I fold my arms behind my back and start pacing across the area in front of the throne. "I'm putting together a little coterie-."

"I've participated in those before. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience. Or profited much by it."

"This is more of a think tank than a fighting force. Like-minded individuals pooling resources in order to achieve greater things than they could by themselves. If you're interested, I'm planning a get-together in a few days. You can get to know the other invitees, see if you think they're people you could work with."

"Anyone I know?"

"Hopefully one at least."

"Hm." She thinks for a moment. "My biggest problem at the moment remains what it was the first time we spoke: King Orin. What do you think that your 'coterie' could do about that?"

1st September
12:23 GMT -2

King Orin blinks at me in confusion as I rise to my feet. And I nearly miss his eyes flicking to his bodyguards. "Grayven. I'm afraid that if there's something you want to talk about it will have to wait. I'm due to meet the Venturian Ambassador and I really don't have the.. time…" He trails off as I produce my accreditation scroll. "Queen Clea sent you?"

"Your Imperial Majesty, High King Orin of Poseidonis." I anchor my feet to the palace floor and bow, left hand at my waist and right hand holding out the scroll. "I have the honour of having been instructed by Her Majesty Queen Clea of Venturia to serve as her representative, with the aim of normalising relations between your respective thrones."

His mouth opens slightly as he tries to work out a sensible response. A courtier whom I don't recognise swims forward and takes the scroll from me, then swims back to his monarch's side before opening it. I come erect as he checks it both visually and with a minor spell. "It's authentic, your majesty."

King Orin bows his head slightly. "Of course it is." He focuses his attention on me. "I doubt that Grayven would do something like this as a prank. Ambassador Grayven, I recognise you as Queen Clea's representative to the Atlantean government. And I hope-." I shake my head. "Is there a problem?"

"King Orin, you know full well that I cannot accept that recognition. It has long been the position of Venturia that there is no such thing as the Atlantean government, merely an advisory body to the High King. I can hardly be a representative to a body that does not exist."

"This is why diplomacy with Venturia never gets anywhere." He swims past me to take his place at the head of the table. "Would you accept being recognised as Venturia's representative to my court?"

I bow my head. "But of course."

He reaches his chair and motions for me to be seated. "You understand that in the Atlantean order of precedence, it's an inferior position?"

"Inferior to one that doesn't exist? I think that unlikely."

He sits, and I do the same at a seat a little way to his left. Another Atlantean -given the manner of her dress I'm going to assume that she's either some sort of minister or a high level aide- sits down opposite me.

King Orin leans forward slightly. "I remembering hearing from Superman that there was an Atlantean working at your daughter's school. You organised that?"

"Yes. They appeared to be confused by the differences between telepaths and parapsychics. I thought that having someone who knew a little more about magic than well-meaning but ignorant American college teachers… Would be helpful. And I needed a source of literature for Miss Shimmer."

"And you couldn't come to Poseidonis?"

"I had just left the Team under something of a cloud. It seemed to me that going somewhere where the ruler wouldn't care about that made more sense. Queen Clea asked to speak with me…" I shrug.

"That was... April?" I nod. "I had wondered why the Venturian Senators started voting with me on foreign policy issues. I had hoped that it was an indication that Queen Clea might be willing to become less isolationist."

"It was really more… She switched from opposing you and yours in every way she could, to being willing to consider proposals on the basis of traditional authority. If you want to pursue a particular foreign policy objective, then that is your right as High King."

"And what does she get out of it?"

"She hopes that you will agree not to interfere in the Venturian succession. She expects to die in the not-too-distant future and it's been weighing on her mind."

Orin frowns. "Proconsul Ptra of Aurania will succeed her. I certainly don't have any problem with that. If anything, I'd encourage her to reach out to her daughter sooner."

"Ah. No, your majesty. She won't."

His frown deepens. "What do you mean? Ptra is Clea's only child." He blinks, his brow smoothing. "Unless Clea's done what my mother did. Is there another heir somewhere that she's planning on introducing?"

"No-. At least, not to my knowledge. Under Venturian law, much like in the Roman Empire, the monarch appoints their successor. Usually it's the oldest child, but in theory she could name anyone. My knowledge of Venturian court politics is imperfect, but my understanding is that the foremost candidate is her great nephew, Lord Cyprian."

Orin looks at the woman seated on his right. "Majistra, can she do that?"

Majistra looks more than a little concerned. "Legally, yes, but the understanding we had was that she would not."

"That was a very one-sided understanding, then. I got the very clear impression that she'd been planning it for a while but was afraid of being invaded if she made a formal announcement."

"By Aurania?"

"No. By you." He looks surprised. "I'm afraid that after her altercation with your grandmother, Queen Clea became somewhat…" How can I put this politely..?

"Paranoid?"

I nod. "If you like. Where Poseidonis is concerned."

"Where my grandmother refused to let her execute all of her political opponents?"

I raise my left eyebrow. "That's not how the Venturians remember it. And -with all due respect, your majesty- you need to understand this if you're going to get anywhere with them."

"Alright. Then how do they remember it?"

"The dispute starts with the marriage of Queen Clea to Proconsul Philo. The marriage contract states… Well, what it states is.. one of the things disputed."

"I can imagine. Did you read it yourself?"

"Yes. The wording.. seemed unclear, but I'm not an Atlantean lawyer. Queen Clea believes that it sets out that Venturian laws of inheritance would take precedence in the case of shared offices and titles. And the courtiers who survive from the time were certain that it was discussed in those terms at the time. In Venturia, a couple rules together with neither one having authority over the other. If she died, he'd still be king. So, to keep things fair, they arranged things so that if he died, she'd become Proconsul. Aurania's law of course works differently, and that's why they made sure to spell it out in the marriage contract."

"And the Auranian Senate accepted that?"

I shrug. "Passed with a majority. Which should have meant that it became Auranian law. Except… Two years into the marriage, Proconsul Philo died. And that didn't happen. The Auranian Council tried to impose Auranian succession tradition, which passes authority down to surviving children and not the surviving spouse. Ptra was a year old at the time. And given the surprise of his death-."

"She decided to invade."

"She decided to declare martial law on a city she already ruled, after the murder of her husband, its Proconsul. It seemed clear to her that the people who benefited most from his death were the people who were trying to sideline her." I lean back slightly. "Technically she shouldn't have done that, but I don't think it was particularly unreasonable. Particularly when they responded by having her daughter kidnapped."

"They thought that her mother had murdered her father."

"Did they? I've seen the court records. Queen Clea had to testify under truth compulsion that she hadn't arranged his death. They never did. And since all of those involved in that part are now dead we'll never know what their motivations really were."

"Alright. I can see why she did what she did, but Queen Cora ruled in their favour. Why won't she accept the ruling?"

"Because it was clearly incorrect in law." I lean back. "Did you know that there isn't a national minimum drinking age in the United States? Individual states are free to set their own to whatever they like or not have one at all, but if it isn't twenty one or higher the federal government cuts their highways funding. I'm not really sure what building roads has to do with alcohol consumption…" I shrug. "It's just a control mechanism. Queen Cora had the authority to adjudicate in disputes between city-states, which technically included the marriage contract. What she didn't have authority to do was ignore the kidnapping."

"If they were concerned about Ptra's safety…"

"Then maybe they could have been exonerated in a trial. 'Reasonable actions taken under extreme circumstances'. There was no trial. The actual kidnappers and the people who sponsored them weren't even pardoned, just completely let off the hook. Clea might have tolerated not becoming Proconsul if she'd been made her daughter's regent. But she wanted them punished and she wanted her daughter back. And she got neither after Queen Cora recognised the Auranian council as having regency authority and made Ptra a ward of the throne of Poseidonis. And Queen Clea was rather upset about it."

"It seems that I'm going to have to read up on my history. But before I do that, is recognising Lord Cyprian as her heir the only thing she wants from me?"

"She'd quite like the city-states to get more autonomy… Or as she put it 'to have their traditional autonomy recognised', but that's a secondary thing. The second principal thing she wants is to build an airport in the Greater Azores so she can trade with the surface and needs you to reduce import tariffs."

King Orin's eyes boggle.

"She wants to what?"

1st September
17:23 GMT -5

I smile politely as Director Armstrong glowers at my completed test paper. A moment passes and she stabs it with her 'Approved' stamp with more force than was strictly necessary before picking it up again and dropping it into her 'out' tray.

"Thank you, Director. Where do I go to get my identification badge?"

"How did you do it?"

I bite back my initial 'firstly, my mother and father met' response. Director Armstrong is in charge of what will eventually be an important federal agency. I'm trying to build her up, not belittle her. "Could.. you.. be more specific?"

"You've been back on Earth for two days, and you managed to complete the written portion of the test with a near-perfect grade."

"Well…" I shrug. "A lot of it was essentially the same as the equivalent tests for other federal law enforcement officers, and that was covered by my Justice League training. A good deal of the rest relates to special cases relating to metahuman law and police practice, which, again, I've studied for my own activities. Like when I was trying to get Werner Vertigo executed."

"That doesn't explain perfect scores."

"Okay, fine." I smile. "I had the G-Gnomes implant textbook answers in my mind. I imagine that the only bits I got wrong were where I thought that the official answer was stupid."

"That totally invalidates the results!"

"It does not. As long as they weren't continuously-."

She glares. "Do you know how long telepathically implanted knowledge lasts?"

"I'm aware of previous case studies, but with the G-Gnomes it lasts as long as any knowledge you studied hard. The G-Gnomes have gotten very good at ensuring that it integrates fully with the rest of a subject's mental networks. None of that… Fading away after a couple of days stuff."

Usually I'd hate people doing anything with my mind, but I trust Jean. And I really didn't want to learn this by reading a lot of books like some sort of caveman.

I smile again. "So there's really no problem. I now have the qualifications for a licensed operative. And if you count my work for Operation Light Switch for my 'mentored operational duty' and my time working for the Justice League as 'time in operation', I actually qualify for second tier privileges as well." She doesn't look happy about it. "And obviously I understand that by taking this on I know that I'll be expected to go on the stump for the DMA. My diary's reasonably open; I'm happy to book you in whenever you like."

Director Armstrong nods, managing to look only slightly like she's bitten into a lemon. Then she reaches into one of her desk's drawers, pulls out a small brown packet and passes it to me. "Here. We used your Central City mug shot for the identification photograph."

I grin as I take it and pull out the identification badge. "See, I know that was intended as a slight. But actually? I love the idea." I take a quick look at the photo and then hold it up next to my head and pull the exact expression I had then. "I'm going to show this off to everyone."

"When are the rest of your little enclave going to sit their examinations?"

"Ah…" I lower my badge. "The Blacks are on assignment outside of the US, Ghia'ta isn't active as a superhero -though I'll.. certainly send her your way if she gets interested-, Miss Shimmer is training as a thaumaturgist and has no interest in combat or criminal investigation, Lynne's clearly too young and Mister Tawny isn't on Earth at the moment. But again, I'll be sure to send him your way once he gets back."

"And the Gothic Flash?"

I sit back. "Do you..? Really… Want her formally on your books?"

"I'm aware of what you had her do in the Sudan."

"Technically I didn't order her to do that. Not that I have a problem with it, compared to the reasonably probable alternatives. But if what she is doing-."

"'Is'?"

"You don't want the various factions to rearm, do you? If it became more widely known, and people saw that she had a licence from you… I mean, obviously we know that it's not an endorsement or a sign that she's acting on America's behalf, but it may be more convenient for you to not have anything written down that says otherwise."

"And what did General Lane say about that?"

"He hasn't said.. anything..? I'm not sure if that's because he genuinely doesn't know, or if he's officially not knowing."

Director Armstrong thinks for a moment. "Do you intend to use her in your State-side operations?"

"Probably, yes."

"Then she can sit her test anonymously. I can sign the paperwork and you can be her supervisor. No one else has to know."

I nod. "Alright, I'll talk to her about it next time I see her."

A slight frown. "She's not waiting for you right now?"

I shake my head. "No. With major combat operations in Vega finished, I encouraged her to pay some attention to her secret identity."

Aside from the social aspect, maintaining a cover identity has obvious advantages for her. While I obviously pay her for the work she does for me, it might also help to have a source of income she can actually talk about outside the mountain. Actual pay for entry level models is crap, but unless a lot of people compare notes that won't matter much. A bit sad that I can't be there in person to support her, but Miss Shimmer said that she'd go in my place.

Friend number two!

I pull some paperwork out of the pack. "What's this?"

"Pension and insurance forms."

And I don't age or need to use other people's hospitals. Ah, it's probably a standard package. I nod. "It's never too soon to start saving."

"And your performance targets."

Oh, of course. I just manage to stop myself laughing. "For..?"

"Rifle, Colorado."

"I will make myself the scourge of villainy in the Route Six / County Road Two Two Three area." Actually, I'll have the G-Elves do it. This is clearly another paperwork thing; it doesn't actually require my personal attention. "I already have weekly meetings with Chief Klein, so really this will just be a formalisation of existing arrangements." She nods. "Anything else?"

"Luthor."

I purse my lips. "Luthor."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"Yes, that was one of the first things I did after returning. He's chafing nicely under the restrictions he's operating under."

"And you didn't happen to find anything that would warrant us taking further action?"

"He's got a painting by Adolf Hitler in his apartment?"

"He's-? No, that's not a crime, even if it does make him look like a supervillain. Anything else?"

"He's trying to acquire legitimate companies owned by his late colleagues while their hands are off the tiller. That might technically be insider trading, but it's… So close to legitimate commercial activity…"

"No smoking gun?"

"I'm afraid not."

She nods. "Keep watching him, just in case. I know the President wants him left alive if at all possible, but catching him out would be a big boost to the reputation of the DMA."

"I will be certain to do that, Director Armstrong."

2nd September
15:15 GMT +2

How hard is it to find an enchanted island inhabited by an ancient demigoddess-sorceress who doesn't want it to be found?

Not all that hard at all when you've got goggles like mine.

Diana only came here once, and since she teleported both in and out she couldn't give me directions. I tried a couple of sources to narrow my search a little, but it seems that scholars have guessed that it might be located in all sorts of places over the years. More frustrating is the fact that while the Odyssey says that she comes from Colchis, for the Greeks that was the equivalent of an English person saying she came from Timbuktu. It's not a literal description -or at least it doesn't have to be-, it just means 'from a very long way away'. Plus the Classical Romans just loved stealing Greek stuff.

On the other hand, Diana definitely described the palace on the island as being in the Hellenic style. And myths have a surprisingly high correlation with reality around here. So I started with a sweep of the Black Sea and then made my way south east along the Bosphorus into the Sea of Marmara until I encountered an island that I could see with my goggles but not without them.

The goggles, they do something.

Out of respect to the woman I'm hoping to see and in the hope that she'll view my presence here as slightly less of an invasion, I open my boom tube well out to sea and start flying towards Aeaea at a speed that will give Circe plenty of time to decide whether to tolerate my presence or not. And whether or not an attack by her beastmen is required.

Flying Monkeys are a distinct possibility here.

No, no, she wouldn't send flying monkeys. She probably hasn't even heard of The Wizard of Oz. Or has she? I mean, Diana managed to modernise herself twice, once moving from the Classical Greek Themyscira to nineteen forties America, and then from Themyscira to noughties America. And there's been basically nothing to stop her teleporting to wherever she wants since the late Mister Nelson stopped wearing the Helmet of Fate. She might not even be in.

Guess I'll… Leave a note then?

Based on what I can see of the buildings on the island, Circe has gone for an almost exploded view for her palace. There isn't a single continuous structure but rather a dock which is physically separated from what looks like a stable, which again is some distance from what I'm going to assume are the servants' quarters. Or possibly peasants' quarters, given that I can see nearby farmland. Even the palace parts are separated into a tower and two halls, though I suppose that those might have assigned functions which are not immediately obvious. The Mistress of the Manor might not be home herself, but there's definite activity in the fields and around the docks. I-. Ah, those are crab-form beastmen. I was curious as to how they fished without drawing unwanted attention. I wonder if the spells bear any resemblance to those the Atlanteans use?
Resist.
I get a slight bleugh sensation as I pass through the wards, but once I'm inside nothing else happens. I think that some of the crabs might be looking my way… Hard to tell. Circe herself doesn't deign to show herself as I touch down on the beach. So… Either she doesn't have a problem with me being here but expects me to present myself to her, or I'm about to-.

The javelin embeds itself in the sand about a metre from my position. I look up towards the tree line… And a motley collection of beastmen glares back at me. I see a Lion-person and a Centaur, along with a small mob of Boar-people. Kilts and straps appear to be the dress code, though given the weather and fact that they're covered in fur I suppose that expecting shirts and ties would have been a long shot. As I watch, the Lion grunts something at the Centaur, who turns and runs away from the mob in the general direction of the palace.

I take a few steps forward and bend down, picking up the javelin in my right hand and lifting it up toward the watching beastmen.

"Lads, do you really want to do this?"

The Lion bares his teeth and his claws while the Boars draw their swords.

Sigh.

I stab the javelin back into the sand and-.

Yeah, okay. My daiklave would probably be overkill here. Diana said that Circe's beastmen have enhanced strength, not super strength. I could kill them all pretty easily, but there's really no point. And some of them might still have family…

Ugh. I generate a construct tower shield and cudgel and advance up the incline as they charge down towards me. The Lion takes the lead, not even looking back in his eagerness to reach me. The Boars are a little more rational about it, keeping abreast of each other and carefully watching me as they advance. No shields, I note. Not that it would help, but that does imply that they were assigned to some other duty.

The Lion comes at me at full sprint, probably intending to bowl me over and claw at me on the ground. I brace and crouch slightly as he slams into my shield, his momentum and my immovability causing him to flatten against it. I lurch forward and then stop, causing him to stagger back into striking range. I stab the head of my cudgel forward, striking him in the diaphragm. Because I'm super strong rather than just being a big bloke the result of my stab is him flying backward and collapsing gasping to the ground.

"Stay down, Lion man."

^"I-i-i-in-." His gasps for breath cover up anything coherent he might have been saying as I walk carefully around him and towards the approaching Boar line.

"I'll say again, fellahs. I'm here to see Circe and I come in peace. I don't want to fight you, but you're not going to enjoy what happens if you force the issue."

One on the left of the line looks dubiously at his fellows for a moment, but then shakes his head and raises his sword. Looks like they're more afraid of disappointing their domitor than they are of fighting me.

But the main thing is, they're afraid.

I walk patiently towards the centre of their line and they gratefully accept the opportunity to move to surround me. I sigh faintly, then leap backwards, blindly swinging my construct cudgel around as I do so.

"ORRREEEAAAGH!"

The first Boarman I hit has his upper right arm and several of his right ribs smashed, sending him tumbling down the beach towards the sea. My swing continues as his neighbour attempts to backpedal, making it just far enough to save his arm but not his chest. Ribs crack and he's sent flying as I turn toward the rest. One eager fellow is hot on my heels and I repeat what I did to the Lion, letting him run into my shield. He didn't quite give the charge his all and maintains the wherewithal to brace himself against it and stab around it with his sword.

We have a brief moment of eye contact when his discovers that his arm isn't long enough to reach me. Then I tug my shield left to intercept another charging Boar, causing him to spin around until he's facing me again. As we line up I bring my forehead forwards with a smash, knocking him stunned to the ground.

Then they're all piling on me and it isn't worth keeping precise tabs on who is where. Steel swords predictably fail to pierce my armour or skin as I yank my arms left and right, slamming Boar into Boar and taking smashes of opportunity with my cudgel. Rendering them too injured to fight back takes a little over a minute. Another minute to scan them to make sure that they aren't imminently going to expire-

Your humanitarian credentials are impeccable, Corpsman.

-and I stride back toward the fallen Lion. He's managing to sit upright, but the fight still seems to be knocked out of him.

"What was that in aid of?"

"You... Invader! Mistress's land-."

"I came here because I want to talk to her, not brawl with her." I generate a construct harness and use it to drag him to his feet. "Now take me to her. We have things to discuss."

2nd September
15:27 GMT +2

One leisurely stroll later -with just enough tugging on the leash by me to remind the Lion who's in charge and just enough resistance from him to remind me that he's a thinking creature with opinions of his own- and we arrive at a grand-looking stone structure. The pillars and general shape of the roof say 'ancient Greek' to me, but I'm hardly an expert in architecture. A handful of Mulemen are tending the gardens, but they limit themselves to one nervous look in my direction before bending themselves to their tasks once more. The pathway leading up to the palace proper -or should that be manor?- is lined with statues, alternately bronze-cast and stone carved. Not of the gods, but beyond that I couldn't say.

The whole place actually looks pretty nice. I suppose that if you've got near-infinite time and resources then you aren't going to live in a sty, but I was a little worried that she'd have gone for the full 'dark sorceress with skulls on spikes' style. This is classy. And more importantly, suggests that she's capable of being rational over a prolonged period of time.

"Mistress is inside."

I nod without looking at him. "Are you banned from going inside?"

He grunts. "No."

"Glad to hear it." I use the tether to shove him forwards, then let the construct evaporate as he staggers up the steps leading into the palace. "After you."

His head turns, letting him glower at me with one eye for a moment. Then he shakes his head slightly and stalks up the steps into the portico. I follow on behind him, utterly unhurried. It's important to seem at ease; Circe doesn't know me and might do something regrettable if she senses weakness. The stone.. doesn't look enchanted, or at least not exceptionally. Probably just a little something to make the stone more resilient to erosion, or perhaps to regenerate over time. Yes, that's more likely. Given the era and the lack of other magic users at her level to study with I imagine that she'd find elementalism easier than anything truly original. A shame that she grew up in this part of the world; if she'd been born in Atlantis she could have been another Ahri'ahn.

Ah well.

No glass, I note as I step from the sunlit portico into the entry chamber. The Ancient Greeks had glass, but not of a quality that it would have been practical to use in windows. And it looks like she hasn't bothered to modernise…

I stop, looking around. Ambient lighting with no opening other than the doorway. It should be dingy in here, but instead it only appears shaded. I suppose that I shouldn't have expected her not to have some work-around for the problem of darkness.

The illumination allows me to more easily see the painted borders around the top and bottom of the walls, and the frescos painted between them. One wall is covered by a depiction of a garden party. A cheerful scene, until I realise a moment later that every participant save one has some minor animal characteristic somewhere on their person. Teeth, ears, a tail… It adds a strange and disconcerting air to the image. The one person shown to be physically perfect is Circe herself, reclining on a couch in a gazebo and being fed grapes by a king with cloven feet.

Another wall shows a mountain, tiny figures that might be people or rocks or smudges barely visible against the grandeur of the rock formation and the landscape surrounding it. A third wall appears to show a battle, but rather than the neat ranks that Greek infantry were famous for it depicts men striking one another without rhyme or reason. A fourth wall shows a goddess -Circe herself, with a few added indicators of divinity- walking through a city inhabited by unaltered animals who offer her tribute as she passes.

Puzzling. I wonder who painted these?

The Lion has already gone ahead, but I take a moment to look over the pictures for things I've missed. No sign of Diana and I don't.. think that any of her old cronies are shown either. I wouldn't necessarily spot any really old cronies, but there aren't any from her original fights with Diana in the forties and fifties. Or any modern ones. Circe playing up her power is hardly surprising, and the animal motifs..? How she views people?

Sadly, it turns out that I'm not Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Oh well, conversation it is then. I turn away from the artworks and slowly walk through the doorway to the next chamber.

"Greetings, stranger."

Circe herself is lounging on a large throne set into the centre of the far wall. The throne is wood with fabric-covered panels and cushions, while the surrounding dais is artfully carved stone. It looks like a single piece. Was it brought here? Did they build the palace around it? Or did she create it with magic?

The rest of the room is richly decorated in a tasteful way. There are shelves upon which set impressively bound tomes as well as racks for scrolls. There are stands and display cases for ancient or valuable artefacts -some of those do have glass fronts. There is a area with seating and a table arranged before a beautifully upholstered chaise longue. The walls are less intricately decorated here than the ones outside were: a simply decorative pattern so as not to distract from the treasure trove which the mistress of the place has chosen to display for her guests.

The Lion man is already abasing himself in front of the lowest step when I take in the sorceress herself. She can alter her appearance to more or less whatever she wants; illusion sometimes, genuine shapeshifting at others. At the moment she's choosing to appear as a tall, pale skinned and dark haired woman. Her dress -which looks like it could fall off with one careless motion- is peach in colour and artfully draped to not only enhance her own beauty but to pleasantly contrast with the colour and texture of the wood and stone around her. Her feet are bare, while her hair is elegantly draped around her shoulders.

All this for me? I'm touched.

I proceed across the floor until I'm only a few metres behind the Lion. Then I bow.

"Forgive me for not addressing you by title, but I am uncertain as to how you style yourself."

"I've long since outgrown the need for titles. Please address me as Circe. And you are Grayven, I believe."

I straighten up. "My reputation precedes me."

"You fought a Lord of Chaos and emerged victorious. I would be a poor sorceress not to be aware of the man who achieved such a feat of arms."

"Two Lords of Chaos." I smile. "But who's counting?"

She raises her eyebrows slightly. Polite enquiry rather than genuine surprise. "Really?"

"Mordru proved to be no more capable of seeing reason than his erstwhile colleague."

She leans back slightly. "It seems that they were less immortal than I had been led to believe."

"I don't believe that there's any such thing as absolute immortality."

The tiniest flicker, gone before I can learn anything from it. "You may well be right. Tell me, Grayven; what brings you to my home?"

"You, naturally. To the best of my knowledge you are the Earth's greatest living practitioner of magic. I am.. seeking to put together a coterie of talented individuals. Naturally, your name came to mind immediately."

"Hah!" She tilts her head back, her eyes leaving me for the first time since I entered the room. Her amusement seems genuine. "It's been some time since anyone tried to interest me in something like that." She shifts position, leaning a little closer as she returns her attention to me. "Do you seek to conquer the Earth, Grayven?"

"No, Circe. The nature of Earth society is such that it could not be conquered by people like us without depriving it of the very things that make it worth conquering. I was thinking of.. a… Looser alliance, each of us pursuing our own interests while cooperating with one another where such a thing could be profitably done in concert. Coordinating our efforts, rather than working on a single task and getting in one another's way."

"I see. And what is it that I would get out of this alliance?"

"That rather depends, O Circe, on what it is that you want."

2nd September
15:41 GMT +2

Circe lounges languidly on the chaise longue while I maintain a more upright position in the solidly-built chair opposite her. Impressive work; it doesn't look like anything special but it manages to bear my weight without complaint. I must get the name of her…

What's the word for someone who makes chairs?

Chairbler.

Right, thanks. A man who looks like he's now part Goose places two amphorae -one of wine and another of water- on the table between us with two clay cups.

"One quarter."

Circe doesn't look at her servant as she gives the order, and he in turn doesn't look at her as he pours a mix of one part wine to three parts water into the cups before standing and backing away. Once he's far enough away that she no longer considers him to be intruding, she reaches out and picks up her cup. I'm underselling it there, it's a beautifully decorated piece and its presence probably means that I'm being treated as an honoured guest. I mirror her action, picking up my own cup and raising it slightly to her in a silent toast. That earns me a small smile as she raises hers to her lips to drink. I do the same. It tastes… Like wine, only weaker. It's probably an excellent wine but I'm afraid that it's rather wasted on someone like me.

A slight motion of her left hand and the floor extrudes a tendril of stone for her within convenient arm's reach for her to set her cup upon. "I'm puzzled by your enquiry."

I lower my cup. "It's a straightforward enough question. The better I understand what it is that you want to get out of a working relationship, the better able I am to arrange things to ensure that happens." I wiggle the cup around slightly in my right hand. "I realise.. that… For people like us, a request for that sort of personal information from someone you barely know… Sets off all sorts of alarms. I assume that this room is warded?"

"Naturally."

"Then let me go first. I seek allies because at some point -not soon, probably not for years- I'm going to have to fight my father. He's the Apokoliptian God of Tyranny and he's every bit as powerful as his name implies. A little over two months ago he rendered me catatonic for two weeks simply by speaking two words to me. I need to become stronger, to have access to better weapons, technologies, magics… So, I need Earth and its people to become stronger, and that is what I am trying to arrange. Admiration?" I shake my head. "I don't need it. Direct control over others?" I shrug. "As long as I can get the things I want I don't much care what else is happening. But what is it that you want? Legions of admirers? Wealth? Political power?"

She smiles. "Those are pleasant enough."

"Then we'll see about ensuring that you get them. But what do you want most of all?"

"Are those not enough?"

"I was a student of Princess Diana's."

"Oh please." She looks away, rolling her eyes. "I don't obsess over the girl."

"No, I…" I shake my head again and put my cup down on the table. "I mean to say that I've read her mission reports. Including the ones concerning your earliest confrontations. I… Believe that there was mention of a prophecy..?"

Circe's smile fades slightly and her eyes harden. This is the point at which things could go badly wrong, depending on how much umbrage she decides to take. "What do you know?"

"I know little. Supposedly, Hecate gave you… At least a portion of your powers, with the proviso that under certain conditions they would be revoked. I understand that you came to believe that Diana might be capable of fulfilling-."

"Her and… Thousands of others over the centuries." Her face tightens and she snatches up her cup, taking a drink. "Do you have any inkling as to why I made that accursed pact in the first place?"

"I'm well aware of the allure of power. Particularly power as.. immediate as the arcane variety."

"Hah!" There's no humour in her pronouncement as she downs the rest of her cup before returning it to its pedestal with a degree of force. "I had wondered if you might know the truth of it, given how you boasted of slaying two Lords of Chaos."

"In point of fact, I only killed one myself. One of my allies killed the other while I served as a distraction."

She looks at me with piercing curiosity, trying to decipher my expression for any trace of deceit. After a moment or two she relaxes slightly, perhaps finding in my favour. "When I was a young woman, recently inducted in the mysteries of Hecate's cult, I met a third. You most likely saw a painting of him outside; close-cropped curly blonde hair, heroically proportioned chest, cloven feet?" The grape-feeder. I nod. "My skill with magic was slight, but my beauty was enough to draw the eye of a being who styled himself as Oggar, the Earth's Mightiest Immortal."

I nod. "I think I've heard of him. Didn't he used to work with Shazam?"

Circe nods. "Yes. He tried to impress me with his magical feats, and failed utterly. Seeing what power magic could bring, all I could think was that one day such power would be mine though my own efforts. Finally, he offered me a gift to prove his power beyond doubt. I knew that the leaders of Hecate's cult were strong in magic, but bowed and wizened of body. Why not have the best of all things? So I asked for immortality. He waved his arms, claimed to have given it to me and asked me to reconsider. I refused again." She shrugs. "I was immortal. What was he going to do?"

"I think I see where this is going."

"Do you know what a woman looks like at two hundred years of age? Three hundred? One who knows of no magic by which she may rejuvenate herself? How swollen and arthritic her joints, how dull her eyes, how clouded her mind, how racked with pain and confusion her every moment?"

"No. But I can imagine."

"I begged Hecate for relief, even death. And for her own reasons, she-" Circe indicates her body with a wave of her right hand. "-gave me this. A portion of her own soul for power, arcane knowledge far in advance of any other in Greece… Divinity."

"Generous of her."

"And the certain knowledge that at any moment it could all be snatched away in an instant with no warning. Have you heard the phrase 'those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad'?" I nod. "It worked. Homer thought that I was exiled here. I wasn't. How could a mere king exile me? I simply grew too paranoid to stand other people."

I glance aside. "Apart from..?"

She follows my eyes to the Gooseman. "Oh, they're hardly 'people'. Why do you think I change them?"

"Okay." I sit back, looking thoughtful. "And that's why you picked fights with Diana?"

"Yes." Her eyes move off me for a moment. "Mostly."

I wave the qualifier off. "Don't worry, I know how it goes." Sounds simple enough to fix. Rejuvenation I can do. Though… "Can you choose to end your pact with Hecate yourself?"

She frowns. "Probably. Yes. But why would I? I have no more desire to become a feeble undying cripple now than I did thousands of years ago."

"You fear this outcome? You fear it greatly?"

"Yes."

I raise my left hand slightly, displaying the Sinestro ring's sigil. "This is a power ring. Its energies are strengthened by fear. If you could undo your pact, I believe that I could use it to restore your youth. Not permanently, you would begin to age again-."

"You could restore a woman thousands of years old to youth? You'll forgive me if I'm sceptical."

"This ring isn't magic, it's technological. Ontological inertia has no effect. Altering your current divinity-infused form is.. awkward. But were you to reassume the form of a mortal woman, it becomes feasible."

"And my power?"

"That power you derive from Hecate would be gone. However-" I tap Mother Box. "-it is within my power to alter the structures of your soul to allow for unlimited growth. I have tested the method, and it works quite well. You would be able to attain godhood through your own labours somewhat more easily than most mortal mages, though clearly you would be weaker in the interim. The important thing-" I lean forwards. "-is that you would no longer be beholden to the prophecy." "Grasp the power that lies before you!"

"That…" Her eyes flick down as she considers the offer. "Would be a great boon. And in return you would want my participation in your.. group?"

"No. A little of your time today, a few minor pieces of arcane assistance, and for you to hear my full spiel when all of those I wish to invite are assembled. I have no desire to trap you in a compact that no longer suits you."

"And if I say no?"

"That of course remains your prerogative. The offer would stay open indefinitely. A 'no' now could become a 'yes' later, once you have more information. While a fit of childish pique from me could alienate you permanently, which is contrary to my interests."

"I.. am.. interested. But putting myself into your power and trusting to your good intentions-."

"I gain nothing from harming you."

"I think…" She looks pensive for a moment, then reaches a firm decision. "I will accompany you and agree to help you in small ways, while I gain a better understanding of your character. Then, perhaps, I will accept your aid."

I smile. "That, Circe, suits me perfectly." I rise to my feet and extend my right hand to her. "Shall we?"

2nd September
09:01 GMT -5

"Did you know that this is the only place in the United States where it's legal to produce, buy and sell proper absinthe?"

Circe looks around as we promenade along the tree-lined avenues of the curiously named Rainbow Gardens Park, just off Pyle Avenue in Opal City, Maryland. She actually condescended to link arms-. Or rather -given the size disparity between us- lay her left hand on my right arm. She seems interested but not stunned in the way those Amazons introduced to modern technology tend to look. She's even altered her dress to something a little more modern, though she left the general cut and colour the same. I had thought that she'd want something a little more 'queenly' while engaged on a professional occasion, but perhaps something that serves to draw attention away from her face is better for a known supervillain. As it is, we're drawing looks from morning joggers and they're not all being directed at me.

"I never developed a taste for it. For those acts of magic that are aided by hallucinogens, there are far better options." She looks up at me as I lower the guidebook. "Why are we here?"

"Have you ever met a man made of shadows?"

She frowns. "Yes, several times. I've even created one or two. Why do you ask?"

I nod at the figure sat on the bench in front of us as he throws breadcrumbs to a crowd of Pigeons that don't dare to approach within two metres of him. He's wearing an unseasonable black greatcoat and a black top hat, with some sort of white.. demi-doily thing hanging from his neck providing the only real break from the sheer tone of his clothing. He's also wearing dark glasses, and there's a black cane with a silver handle propped up against the side of his bench.

Despite the morning sun, the ground around him is noticeably darker than the rest of the path.

Circe stops dead. "What is he?"

I smile faintly. "No one really knows. Though he is at least a century old. I'm a little surprised that you haven't run into him before, actually. He was fighting The Flash while you were fighting Wonder Woman in the fifties..?"

"I don't-." She cuts herself off, frowning. "The Shade? I had heard of him, but I thought that he was a dilettante, a minor practitioner at best. Not… That."

"He isn't under a curse. He picked fights with superheroes to keep himself amused."

"He isn't touching his cane."

"He's never needed to before. Why would he start now?"

She hesitates for a moment. "I feel… That I may have missed something rather important."

Mister Swift shakes the last few crumbs out of his bag and then rises, the black edges of his clothing seeming to flow and stick to the bench like a gelatinous liquid for a moment before returning to normalcy. His cane doesn't even pretend, a clearly visible black solid lifting it from where it lays and holding it out to him. The Pigeons back the heck off, one or two of the braver members of the flock darting around behind in order to get at the remaining bread without having to go anywhere near the man-shaped abomination.

He looks around, and his gaze alights on the two of us. He doesn't smile, but he does look… Interested. He takes a few steps in our direction and raises the head of his cane to tip his hat. "Mister Grayven."

I nod politely back. "Mister Swift."

"And…" The skin around the edge of his glasses pinches slightly. "Miss Circe. A queer couple, to be certain, but not so strange as some this city has seen."

Circe's eyes glow faintly as she studies him. "Shade."

"Might I enquire as to what it is that brings you to my fair city? I don't believe that I'm aware of anyone who needs to suddenly find themselves encephally challenged." He glances down at my brochure. "Simple tourism? I could recommend a location or two, if you're interested."

"Actually, I… Wanted to talk to you."

He holds out his hands slightly, palms upwards while his cane remains upright. "And here we are. Do you have some particular topic in mind, or should I simply point out the sheer number of warrants Madam Circe has outstanding in the United States?"

"I wanted to ask you about Mister Simon Culp." A flicker of something passes over his face. "I understand that you knew the man?"

"To my regret, yes. What did you want to know?"

"I was thinking about tracking him down. Do you remember the last time you saw him?"

He hesitates, then shakes his head. "The Roaring Twenties, I think. Some… Scam or other he was running. I can't imagine why you'd want to talk to him-." Circe pulls her head back slightly. "Is something amiss?"

She turns her head towards me and frees her hands. "You knew."

"Naturally. Did you think I'd do something like this without being certain?"

Tenebrous strands of oily black rise from the ground around Mister Swift. "Look, I think I've been quite gracious considering who you are, but I don't appreciate-."

"Mister Swift, I understand that you've taken it upon yourself to take over Mister Knight's role as the city's 'superhero in residence' since his retirement?"

"I… Yes? Look, is this about that DMA training scheme thing? I already informed their representatives that I have no interest in taking part."

"And if you had to summarise Mister Culp in a few words..?"

"A.. savage thug with delusions of civility? A blight upon the life of all who knew him and myself in particular? What possible interest is a long-disappeared criminal to-?"

Circe yanks, eldritch purple fire briefly enveloping Mister Swift and incinerating his shadow constructs. His cane falls to the ground and he staggers back, the flames concentrate themselves at his chest, his whole body highlighted and looking increasingly less like a man and more like a man-shaped shadow. His glasses melt, his eyes stare widely in horror-.

And then a white-haired dwarf precipitates out of his chest, stumbling on the pavement and then falling onto his hands and knees.

Circe waves her hands to the side, flames dying as she does so. "That was novel. I assume that was what you intended?"

I smile and raise my right hand at the fallen Mister Culp. "Like you read my mind."

"Decades of work!" He turns his head to glare at me. "Ruined." He raises his right hand. "But I can begin…" His eyes widen. "I can begin-!" He looks at his right hand in horror. "What did you do to me, bitch!?"

"Hah!" Circe smiles. "With the two of you bonded like that, it was a simple enough matter to ensure that your shadow-control abilities remained behind." She affects a look of mild affront. "I am a goddess, after all."

"No…"

She turns to me, not even bothering to keep watching him. "Does anyone actually want him, or should we just leave him here?"

I nod. "A little tricky under American law. But possession is a crime, and I'm certain that-"

"Hahaah!"

"- we could…"

"Hahhahhahhah!"

We turn back to where Mister Swift is lying on his back, top hat and shades having fallen from his head.

He's grinning like a lunatic.

"Hahhahhahhah!"

Um. What?

2nd September
09:06 GMT -5

Mister Swift manages -with some effort- to push himself into a sitting position, all the while grinning like a loon. He's recovered his glasses and they dangle loosely from his left hand while he wipes his eyes with his right.

"Oh, my word. Hahaha-. No, no, mustn't start again."

He makes a sort of choking-gulping noise, ducking his head slightly to avoid seeing anything that might set him off.

Circe gives me a puzzled look. "Was that supposed to happen?"

No. "I was about to ask you that."

She gives her head a small shake. "I was quite careful to merely extract the dwarf. I felt nothing which suggested-."

"There some kinda problem here?"

A dishevelled man dressed and coiffed like a detective from a seventies television-. Sinestro, who is-?

Detective Sergeant Matthew O'Dare, Corpsman.

"Matthew! Matthew!" Mister Swift scrambles to his feet and with an unsteady gait walks towards the man. "Wonderful news!"

"Oh yeah?" Detective O'Dare takes a moment to size me up, his eyes moving briefly over Circe and Mister Culp before returning to Mister Swift. "What's that then?"

"I don't know!" Mister Swift lays both his hands on Detective O'Dare's shoulders. "But it's really good!"

"O-kay. Dickie, if you were anyone else I'd ask if you'd been drinkin'."

"No! No. No no. Quite… Quite the opposite. It's like a veil has been lifted from my temperament and I can finally see the world for the wonder it is!" Mister Swift steps back, arms falling loosely to his sides as he stares upwards at the skyscrapers around us.

Aah. That might-.

Detective O'Dare glares at me. "Did you do somethin' to him? And who's the midget?"

I half-turn to where Mister Culp is sprinting across the park, then grab him with a construct glove and pull him back. "This is Simon Culp. He was possessing Mister Swift, and may have been influencing his actions for some time."

"And you know that how?"

"I'm a god. When someone's motives aren't their own-" I take my goggles out of subspace and tap them with my left hand. "-they don't look the same."

"But of course." Circe nods to herself with a minor huff of irritation. "It's obvious. So many mortal supervillains waste excessive amounts of time in revenging themselves on their foes. The way they were interfaced would only allow him to take control some of the time, but if he were prepared to reduce that then he would be able to exert constant influence."

Mister Swift's cane shoots after him on a wave of shadow sludge as he strides towards Pyle Avenue. He spins as he catches it, his greatcoat morphing into a tailcoat as he does so. "I love to laugh! Loud and long and cleeeeeeear!"

I watch him go. "So rather than use Mister Swift's godlike power for something productive, Mister Culp focused on making him feel miserable instead. Which he is now not feeling, perhaps for the first time since the Second World War."

"And I'd've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you and your stupid bitch-whore girlfriend!"

Violet lights dance around Circe's right hand as she turns to where Mister Culp hangs in the air from my construct. "What a curious idea. I've never made a Slug-man before."

I gently push her hand down. "Why.. don't.. we just hand this grubby little miscreant over to the lawful authorities." I raise my eyebrows at Detective O'Dare. "I'm reasonably confident that possession is illegal in Maryland?"

"Not specifically, but controlling someone by the use of super powers is." He takes a pair of handcuffs off his belt and approaches Mister Culp, who-. My goodness, who curses him in no uncertain terms. "Mister Culp, you're under arrest. Grayven, I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I don't think Dickie should be wandering around on his own."

I lean to the side and watch Mister Swift as he prances up to a flower stand and grabs a bucket of roses. "No problem. We'll keep an eye on him."

"Be sure you do. Dickie's got a lot of friends 'round these parts." I drop Mister Culp at his feet and the Detective gives the man his full attention. "Mister Culp. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?"

"…monkey-sodomising pederast!" Mister Culp focuses his ire on the Detective. "And you!"

"Do you understand!"

"I will shove my hand into your throat and pull out your still beating heart!"

"I'm gunna take that as a 'yes'. Second part: anything you do say may…"

Circe and I proceed in the direction of Pyle Avenue ourselves. "Where is he going?"

"Not sure." I watch him step into an alley and disappear into the shadows. Ring?

Subject 'Richard Swift' has appeared in 'Opal Gem', a jewellery shop in Fattata Plaza.

Okay, I'm going to say 'hush tube' this time, because this is getting str-.

Subject 'Richard Swift' has appeared in the Central Precinct of the Opal City Police Department.

Huh. I wonder why-? And Circe's gone. Talking to your power ring in your head is not a free action. Ring-.

I'm trying not to feel ignored, Corpsman.

Oh. Sorry. Hush tube to where he is.

Certainly, Corpsman.

The tube opens in front of me and I pass through at an amble.

"…darling, the light of my life!"

Mister Swift is kneeling at the front of a briefing room full of police officers, the bewildered officer giving the day's assignments warding off a shadow hand which keeps trying to thrust the flowers he purchased into her chest. I think she's blushing slightly.

"I would like it very much if you would agree to marry me."

He opens the ring box and looks up at her longingly.

"Richard, are you drunk?"

There's a collective groan from the watching police officers.

"Never more sober or sane. At least not for the past seventy years. I am in fact completely serious."

She goldfishes for a moment, then looks at the smiling police officers, then at me and… Circe disguised herself as an officer.

"Right, EVERYONE OUT!"

2nd September
09:18 GMT -5

"…thought you were doing bursting into the briefing room like that!?"

Mister Swift glances mournfully at his ring case. "I thought I was fairly clear. I love-."

"Stop!" Captain O'Dare holds up her hands, palms facing her over-amorous paramour. "Just… Stop. I'm-. We didn't-." She pulls herself together a little. "This wasn't supposed to-."

I step out of the hush tube next to her. "Sorry to-"

"Jesus!"

"-barge in." I'm not. "Mister Swift?" He tears his eyes away from Captain O'Dare and I hand him a slip of paper. "If you're interested. I'll see myself out."

"Ah. Thank you."

A glare from the Captain. "Yes. Get out."

I raise my right hand to an invisible hat brim, then step backwards through the hush tube and to a room adjacent to the briefing room which contains a remarkable number of police officers who are completely occupied with their work. The one with 'Circe' on her name tag stands up and walks over to me. "That was interesting. Where to next?"

"Fawcett City Prison. The supermax unit." Sinestro.

Interesting choice, Corpsman. Hush tube available.

We link arms again as we walk through the hole in the air, appearing in the newly rebuilt part of the prison.

2nd September
08:19 GMT -6

They had to do a good deal of work on the place after Ishmael Gregor attacked it to kill his literal predecessor. Our next candidate was transferred here because they could contain him using the same systems as were put in place for the late Mister Karnes. In the event that he ever becomes compos mentis again they can try him for his crimes against the city and its residents. In the mean time he can't hurt anyone if he thrashes about.

I lead Circe in the direction of his cell. She's smiling about.. something.

"I trust that our sojourn to Opal City was acceptably interesting to you?"

"Oh yes." She nods. "It's been a while since I've seen a man on that end of that conversation."

Yes, because we're all deceitful libidinists. "He managed better than I did. My former girlfriend tried to stab me when I proposed to her."

"Really?"

I shrug. "It was a normal knife, so it wouldn't have hurt me physically."

"What did you do to deserve that?"

"I forgot to remind her that I always planned to betray our allies shortly before I did it. She'd convinced herself that I'd changed my mind." Actually… I should probably talk to her again. Just to be clear… Where we stand.

"Was she fond of them?"

"Maybe some. Only one of the inner circle. But an awful lot of people got killed, so it's rather hard for me to be sure if there was one death or other she was particularly perturbed by." Though quantity has a quality all of its own… "I think it was more me kicking out the foundations of her world that offended her. Ah! Here we are."

I bring us to a halt outside a heavy titanium vault door. Through my Apokoliptian goggles I can clearly see the threads of Shazam's magic bound into the thing, though the really powerful stuff is focused on making sure that the outer pieces are never needed. If the occupant wakes up and starts hammering on this then it would only be a matter of time before he broke out. And the only thing that could prevent him escaping would be if the Marvels were alerted.

Circe pulls her hand free as she reaches forward to touch the door. "Who-? No, I recognise this. Order magic. Nabu?"

"Shazam."

"Hm." She steps back. "Do you want to forcibly release whoever is inside? It seems somewhat contrary to your stated aims."

"No." I take my identification paperwork out of subspace as the prison's governor approaches us down the corridor, along with a small entourage of riot-equipped prisoner guards. "I'm going to ask nicely."

Glad to know that the DMA stuff I sat through yesterday was worth something. I was also quite impressed with how quickly this was set up. A quick reminder of exactly who it was that brought him down in the first place was all it took to arrange a meeting through entirely legitimate channels.

The governor nods at me, but frowns at Circe. "DMA didn't say anything about two operatives coming in here."

"My colleague is a civilian consultant. Given that the wizard Shazam is also technically a civilian consultant, I thought that there was an… Acceptance that skilful magic users were entirely too rare to fuss too much about their paperwork. In.. any case, I am empowered to bring along anyone I consider-."

"Fine, whatever. What exactly are you planning to do with this bastard? He hasn't said a thing since they shoved him in there."

"My understanding is that he has so far been ruled unfit to stand trial."

"A technicality."

"Actually, it isn't. I'm no soft touch, but I draw the line well before executing one man for another's crimes merely because they look similar."

This appears to baffle him. "What? He's a look-alike?"

"No." I point to the door. "Might we continue this inside? I'd like my companion to begin work as soon as possible."

"No. Look, I… I respect you, I like what you've done for this country. But my sister, her husband and their three kids got killed by that bastard. So either you explain the whole thing to me or you can shove that Federal warrant up your ass." He folds his arms across his chest.

"Okay. I can respect that. Briefly, then. A very long time ago the wizard Shazam empowered a mortal to act as his champion. Prince Teth Adam of Kahndaq. They had a falling out and Shazam killed him, then bound his soul to his corpse so that he couldn't visit his gods in the afterlife and appeal the decision. About five years ago, a man named Theodore Adam visited his tomb, ritually murdered two archaeologists and bound Teth Adam's soul to a scarab pendant in order to hijack the power the wizard bestowed upon his former champion. He then rampaged on and off for the intervening period until finally being brought down in Louisiana by yours truly, something I achieved by destroying the pendant and so allowing Teth Adam to sabotage Theodore Adam's efforts."

"So you know how to remove.. this.. Theodore Adam's power?"

"Yes, in theory. However… In this case my preference here is to allow my colleague to ascertain the possibility of 'suppressing' him."

"'Suppressing'? What'd'you mean?"

"Locking him inside his own body and allowing the hero whose powers he stole to use his body instead."

"Is that legal?"

"Executing two people who share a body isn't. Leaving him as he is results in a constant risk of the wrong soul winning and killing more people. Imprisoning a serial killer in his own body is unusual, but doesn't result in much of a change from his current status of indefinite detention. Enabling a secondary personality to use the body during that time…" I shrug. "I don't believe that there's any relevant law on the subject. As someone directly affected, how would you feel about it?"

He looks away from me as he considers the matter. "I don't think I'd believe it. I know.. weird stuff like that can happen, but… I saw the bodies."

I nod. "Makes sense. How about if you observed what we're going to do directly?"

2nd September
09:45 GMT -5

First time I've seen Mister Adam since the fight in Louisiana. They've clearly made some effort to keep him clean; the mud that coated him as we crashed through the swamp at speed isn't there any longer and he hasn't become covered in dust or anything. His cuts and bruises have healed, but they would have done by now even at normal rates so that doesn't indicate anything about how active his powers are. The mundane chains binding him are thick titanium and the enchanted ones appear to be… Copper? Hm, but I think I can guess which set would survive longer if he actually decided to try to leave.

"Mrugnhrhrruuh."

The guards tense for a moment, each taking a half-step back towards the doorway. That took a bit of getting used to as well; he isn't exactly comatose. He doesn't have one mind that isn't working quite right, he has two separate minds which are competing for control of his body. So far, prison records show that no momentary advantage one or other has been able to wrestle has resulted in more than two semi-coherent words. And no one here speaks Ancient Kahndaqi. The downside is that it's clear that one side could win and that if they did the prison would have no warning until he ripped his chains off.

"I'm ready." Circe lowers herself into a cross-legged seating position… About a metre off the ground behind Mister Adam's head. "Grayven, you should sit near to his feet."

I nod, walking around from his side to the indicated position. "Any special reason?"

"Because if he wakes up hostile then he will attack you first."

"Heh." She's not wrong, and I probably am best positioned to tank his attacks… And she'd probably need a few moments to access combat-useful spells. "Fair enough." I take a chair out of subspace and plonk myself down.

"And you're sure this won't mess around with Shazam's spells..? What did you say your name was again?"

Circe huffs, closing her eyes for a moment presumably to avoid the governor seeing her roll them. "These are spells of containment designed to keep a very well defined entity in one place. They would react to another champion whom Shazam had empowered, but unless you've denied me some fairly pertinent information that does not include you. As long as we do not attempt to release him while inside, we should not be in any danger."

"Yeah, but-."

"There is no better explanation I can give a man with your total ignorance of the arcane. Either accept my expertise or go running to Captain Marvel."

He looks at me. "I wouldn't have brought her if I didn't have every confidence in her abilities."

He takes a deep breath. "Alright. Where do you want me?"

"It doesn't matter. Your soul is so weak that it's impossible that you'd make any difference to the spell."

"Excuse m-?"

Circe's eyes glow a faint grey and hands made of stone lance upwards from the floor, grabbing the governor's arms and legs and firmly planting him on the ground. "There." She smiles at me. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Your nature as a New God makes it.. difficult for me to draw you in. You will need to unfocus yourself a little as I cast. And you will probably be able to break out as an act of will."

I nod, taking a deep breath and stilling my mind. Heed Your Loyal Servants.

Circe raises her hands, purple gas flowing and billowing across the room and obscuring our surroundings. "Hear me O Phantasos, and guide us to the realm where these two do battle."

Hah, yes. No entreaty, no offerings and not even a 'please'. That's how you deal with jumped up Elementals. Just as she described, I feel a slight tug as a new battleground opens up.. somewhere nearby. I reach out with my spirit to grasp-.

The floor, walls and ceiling are grey metal, coloured red by the dull light issuing forth from a thousand towers. Most of the wall in front of me is taken up by a window, while behind me I know there stands a doorway. Circe stands behind me, her body radiant and ethereal. My own… It is as if my armour had replaced every part of my flesh, grey skin vanished before black metal. I actually look a little like Gonzo's true form, but… More.

"Where are we?"

The governor on the other hand is almost entirely immaterial. I can just about make out his face, but the rest of him is visible only as a vague shimmer in the air.

"An interpretation of what the two minds here are experiencing." She floats forward towards the window. "What do you see?"

"Apokolips." I take a look at the towers visible through the window, but I can't precisely place them. I take a few steps forwards and look down at-. "The Furies' training arena. I see two.. men, one in a kilt and the other in loose trousers. They're fighting barehanded, with more than Human speed and strength."

One is clearly Theodore Adam, and the other… Looks Arabic. Teth Adam, presumably. I watch as he turns aside a kick from Theodore and then grabs for his ankle. Theodore uses that as an opportunity to twist in the air in a way which normal physics would make impossible, his leg flashing past Teth's guard and striking him hard enough on the forehead to send him flying backwards, dust billowing outwards as his body skids across the ground.

"The same, but the arena's Roman. How about you?"

Circe floats a little closer to me. "Well, there they are. What do you intend to do?"

"Where does the
bouncing ball land? Hit
with your snout!"

My daiklave appears in my right hand as I launch myself at the window, passing through it with no difficulty and hurtling through the air towards the combatants. I extend my left hand and the ground leaps up to meet me, cushioning my landing as I drop into the centre of the arena.

Theodore watches me with fury in his gaze, while Teth Adam considers me more dispassionately. "What manner of creature are you?"

"I'm the one who destroyed the scarab. Want a hand?"

"I would be grateful."

"Rrragh!"

Theodore crosses the ground between us in three bounding leaps, right fist blatantly telegraphing his punch. I crouch slightly, pushing off with my right leg and timing my strike so that my left fist smashes into the side of his outstretched arm!

"nYaaagH!" Strike Down the Unworthy!

I hear his arm snap as his body slams into me, knocking me aside as he tumbles to the ground. He rolls with it but Teth Adam is already there, stamping on his break-

"A-ahg!"

-and dropping to hammer him in the head with his right fist! Teth Adam goes for a second blow, but Theodore somehow manages to muster enough strength to grab his wrist with his unbroken arm.

Which is when I run my sword through his chest to the hilt.

"Bwlwhgw!"

He convulses, then tries weakly to rise. He's not actually bleeding…

I turn back to the box. "Circe!"

The air between the box and Theodore's fallen form is briefly illuminated by her glowing body before she lands next to him. "A simple matter to bind him. Perhaps…"

She clenches her fists, then raises them high. In response the ground of the arena flows over Theodore, solidifying and hardening… In the shape of a sarcophagus decorated with a scarab. Hah!

Teth Adam regards it for a moment, then turns his attention to us. "My thanks, to both of you. What.. happens now?"

"Now?" I smile and lay my right hand on his left shoulder. "Now you wake up."

3rd September
08:31 GMT -5

Miss Parish and I watch through the gymnasium window as Cranius puts his squad of US army volunteers through their paces. Only three of the initial batch of twenty have had their oolitic kidneys implanted, and at a glance I can't see much difference between their performance and that of their colleagues. But then I suppose that's the point.

"Had any problems?"

"One of them tried stroking Tigira's tail." She smiles cruelly. "Once."

I can imagine. "Honestly. You don't just grab a woman's tail. That's at least a second date thing."

She arches her right eyebrow. "I remember someone stroking my wings on our first date."

I raise my right forefinger in a finger-wagging gesture. "That was in the spirit of honest anatomical enquiry."

"In the future, you might want to be careful whose anatomies you're 'honestly enquiring' into. Your girlfriend might get jealous." I'm not sure exactly what it is about my expression which clues her in, but she stops smiling and frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"We're.. separated. An unfortunate miscommunication which rather… Grew out of proportion. Is Cranius going to be available today?"

"I, ah… Not for a meeting. He's been doing everything he can to make sure this project goes smoothly, and that means overseeing every aspect of the implantation personally. But.. I can.. probably help you? Or Janus Senior, or… Crassus?"

I look sceptical. "Really? Crassus?"

"He's…" She visibly strains trying to come up with something positive to say. "Getting better with people. It's like he knows how a conversation is supposed to go but can't quite work out how to get there. But as a bioengineer his skills and instincts are at least as good as Cranius's."

I chuckle quietly. "It comes to something when Cranius has better people skills than someone."

"Oh, he… Grows on you. What was it you wanted to talk to him about?"

"I'm… Having a bit of a get together. A few… Like minded individuals discussing ways to… Coordinate their efforts in the cause of improving Human civilisation. Cranius's name was one of the first that came to mind."

Down below, I watch him jump off Otto's shoulders and take a position on parallel bars while… He's laughing, apparently sharing a joke with a soldier who is laughing right back. Is he bantering? And that isn't one of the augmented soldiers. Remarkable.

"I'm sure he'd be honoured, but…" She looks down at the volunteers below. "I'm not sure that now is the best time. How… Much time would it take up?"

I shrug. "I'm happy to tube him in and out. I doubt that the initial meeting will take more than an hour or two. After that, how much he decides to involve himself is entirely up to him. I scheduled the meeting for the ninth, and I… Heh. I booked a conference room in the Hotel de Bilderberg in Oosterbeek."

Her eyes narrow slightly as she recognises the name. "Isn't that-?"

"Yeah." I grin. "Bit childish of me, but I wanted somewhere neutral and… Once it occurred to me I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"And.. how many people will be attending?"

"Myself, six others, and one more by video link. We might expand later, depending on how things go." I shrug. "Or everyone might hate everyone else and this will be the only such meeting. But I'm hopeful that won't happen."

"And… Do they.. know… About..?" She circles her right hand-. Or, her hand, I suppose, indicating Aberrance as a whole.

"Most of them have seen stranger things."

Miss Parish blinks. "Really?"

"Oh, you're welcome to come along and meet everyone yourself. I imagine that Cranius will have you doing most of the liaising anyway, so you may as well introduce yourself."

She nods. "Do we get to see the guest list in advance?"

"Mmm. I'd rather leave everyone equally disadvantaged. Be a bit of an ice breaker, getting everyone to talk about their aims and abilities. Listen, there… Were a couple of other things I wanted to talk to you about." She looks attentive. "Have you had any luck tracking down the Un-woman Magna Mater?"

"I don't think I've heard of her."

"She's fairly distinctive. Two tentacles for legs. Six extremely large breasts. An overwhelming pheromonal aura."

Miss Parish laugh/coughs a little uncomfortably. "We don't have anyone like that, but I'm sure you could find someone in the red light district who could dress up-."

"She's also Janus Junior's mother." Miss Parish blinks in shock, a look of slowly dawning horror moving across her face as she considers the idea. "Or father, depending on which way you look at it. It was during the period in which Arcane was trying to create a better body for himself, though… Exactly what he was trying to achieve…"

"I'll…" Miss Parish gets her face under control. "I'll.. get in contact with our investigators. See if they've… Heard of anything matching that description."

I nod. "Thank you." Then I turn so that I'm looking through the window. Not at the people below, but at the far wall. "The other matter… I spent some time investigating a… An old murder, yesterday."

"Anyone I know?"

"I don't think so. The victim's name was Mitchell Byrne."

I feel the sudden shot of fear run through her, but I pointedly avoid looking at her.

"I… Flashed my snazzy 'DMA Federal Agent' badge around and spoke to the detective who headed the investigation. I was expecting to have to lambaste the man, but, actually? He'd run a competent investigation. They had a pretty good idea who the perpetrator was and… Thanks to the 'victim' not cleaning the carpet or her clothes well enough to fool modern forensic tests, they had a pretty good idea why. The file is -technically- still open, but he mostly wanted to speak to the perpetrator in order to close it. He told me that he had no intention of pressing charges."

I can feel it through the ring as her heart rate drops from 'racing panic attack' to merely 'elevated'.

"He tried to.. sound me out. Find out if I knew where she was. He sounded sympathetic. I'm… Not sure that I do know. Have you..? Heard anything about the case?"

"I… Ah… I think I remember the 'wanted' posters. They sure looked like they intended to press charges."

"Yes, I asked about those. They were produced in the gap between them working out the killer's identity and them establishing the motive. He was quite apologetic." It takes an effort not to look around. "He realised exactly what having something like that hanging over a person could do to their mental state, particularly if they felt that they couldn't ever come into contact with officialdom again. But… I suppose after this much time… If Mina Byrne wanted to formally clear her name… She'd have to want to come forward. And if she didn't… Then she'd probably made a new life for herself, and with any luck she doesn't think too much about the old one." I wait a moment. "I loathe the idea that I can't fix any problem I encounter, but if I sought her out I wouldn't want to upend her life. Do you have any..? Thoughts on the subject..?"

"I, um. Not-. Not right now."

I nod, and give her a moment to regain her composure before turning back to her with a friendly smile. "I suppose that may be for the best." I smile pleasantly. "I was wondering..? Do you have time to show me around your research laboratories? I think it might help my presentation if I have a slightly better idea of what your current projects are."

3rd September
17:22 GMT

I take a moment to look around Dox's new office. Not a lot of effort gone into decoration as yet, though I do rather like the view out of the windows. "I'm a little surprised that you moved up here."

Dox doesn't look around from his monitors. "We're no more exposed here than on the surface."

I walk towards the closest window and look out towards Maltus. "Still. You're in a building entirely controlled by another intelligence, rather than one whose construction you controlled."

"You rather took the decision out of my hands when you recruited Lantern Ranx. His core programming requires the presence of a commanding officer in order to be satisfied. Our officer corps consists of precisely two individuals. Do you intend to remain here?"

"I'd… Rather not. But a senior Darkstar-."

"I ran the schematic calculations myself. The Darkstars are reconnaissance. Ranx was a battle station. His loyalty is reasonably secured with a Lantern, but is better secured using a fleet officer. His multiprocessing abilities are sufficiently good that I find him to be an adequate source of labour. This is… Acceptable."

I nod, watching as an engineering detail begin attaching the first parts of what will eventually be Ranx's first shipyard. "Alright. What next?"

"Next, I want you to look over the second level of potential Orange Lantern recruits." I turn back towards him, frowning slightly. "Now that the first class have been taught your self-focusing techniques, they can instruct others in turn. Your time is more profitably spent testing exactly what degree of psychological divergence from our baselines can use rings satisfactorily."

"Without going on an insane rampage."

"Without going on an insane rampage against anyone other than the Reach." He tears his eyes away from his monitors for a split second. "We are building a military force."

"Insane Orange Lanterns will be powerful but stupid. The Reach will beat them."

"I'm not planning to defeat them through a series of duels."

I don't see him press a button, but a copy of the Darkstar's map of the Reach interior appears in the middle of the room. Thousands of dots for inhabited worlds in the nebulous 'periphery zone'. I could look up which ones are only just coming into Reach 'influence' and which are actually being settled, but it isn't all that important. Thousands more dots lie outside that zone, marked in accordance with our expectations of how the Reach are prioritising them. Small silver star shapes for Reach Periphery Fleets maintained in the periphery zone and larger silver stars for the Reserve Fleets lurking back in what is firmly Reach territory. We've got a pretty good idea of their locations and composition, as well as their maximum speed and range. The Darkstars may not have the force necessary to stop the tide, but they are good at what they do.

"A group of vengeful Orange Lanterns powerful enough to disintegrate a periphery fleet would be an extremely useful strategic tool. They could be recovered by a more stable comrade after the action is concluded. Planets on the periphery are far more able to support our ongoing campaign than worlds further in, and worlds still outside the Reach sphere of influence will be more likely to support us once they observe our ability to hurt the Reach significantly. Time is an issue."

"If the Reach didn't recover them and take their rings in the meantime."

"Do you have an alternate idea?"

"We have a phrase on my homeworld. 'With blackjack and hookers'."

"I'm… Not sure..?"

"It means, 'I'm going to do what you do, but better'. Without all the mistakes you made. We're not the Green Lantern Corps -we're not going to lose to the Reach- but ultimately I want their structure. The respect they get. And I want future generations of Orange Lanterns to look back at their forebears with pride, not thinking 'those guys were really fucked up'. And I want our allies to be able to do the same thing."

Dox give me something approaching his full attention. "You still haven't given me an actual proposal."

"We don't need people with lots of desire. We need people with… Stable.. desire-structures."

"Which only you can see."

"Which at the moment only I can see. But if I'm getting higher quality recruits, why would that matter? I go to them, offer them training and a ring."

"Using this… Apparently universe-wide teleportation ability you recently developed."

Hinon was pretty clear that taking other people with me wasn't a good idea, but getting to them? That would work. "To reach them, yes. I wouldn't know who I was going to, just how stable their avarice network was."

"You are welcome to try. I am interested in learning to better model your exotic abilities."

"Sensors online, Commander!"

Dox nods. I stare at him. He notices, the skin around his eyes tightening slightly as he tries to work out why. I flick my eyes up. There's a confused moment where he pays no attention to his monitors at all.

Then he gets it. "Thank you, Lantern Ranx."

I smile as I float into the air and raise my hands out to the sides, palms upwards.

And the universe fades out. Dox is there, and the other people working on Ranx… And of course the neatly contained and nearly totally satisfied desires of Ranx himself… I pull back further and further.

And I listen. I listen for… Harmonies. Great symphonies played out in orange light. Patterns within patterns, perfectly balanced and-.

There!

I move-

"…doing to him!"

A cave, a forest, a.. desire set that I've felt before. Soldiers in blue and white armour, humanoid, an officer in familiar-looking robes… A near-humanoid with a slightly pointed oval head. The boy has black sclera, an unusual trait, but one which-

"Another one! Shoot him!"

"No!"

-is relatively common amongst Daxamites! Orange armour shimmers into being around me and construct filaments lash out at the soldiers. I thought I recognised the style. This is Daxam! And if they're using-

My filament burns through the robe and is turned aside by the crystalline armour underneath.

-relic weapons then someone has really made them angry.

The boy I heard grabs the other alien's hand and pulls him away as the soldiers turn towards me.

That shouldn't be completely modern armour; the Daxamites went their own way long before Krypton died. And I don't think that they're-.

There's a yellow flare from the officer's hand as he activates a white solar flare.

And now they are.

3rd September
17:26 GMT

Okay, Daxamite soldiers getting what is probably-

I yank myself backwards as three sets of heat vision flash through the place I was standing. They had to stop and stare, and there was an appreciable build up. Ring, watch for that.

Compliance.

-their first taste of full Kryptonian might. They're probably not going to be better fighters than Kon was-

One flies through the air at me, firing his gun with his left hand while his right hand balls into a fist. The plasma bolts are soaked by my construct armour without doing too much damage, while I sidestep the punch and press both of my hands against the side of his forearm, turning his forward lunge into a groundward plummet. I fly back as the rock beneath us pulverises and explodes.

-when we first started training, and that small amount of solar radiation won't be enough to fully empower them. I can't remember whether or not comic Daxamites were vulnerable to kryptonite, and I can't entirely credit how vulnerable to lead they were in the one comic I saw them in. I know that Daxam Sixteenians are literally just slightly altered Kryptonians…

Try it. Ring, green kryptonite radiation burst.

Compliance.

Green light explodes outwards from me, prompting the soldiers and their commander to brace… Nothing appears to happen to them. The soldiers, okay, they might have kept their armour in sufficiently good repair to keep the radiation shields working, but the commander isn't wearing full protective gear. Daxamites don't like using their advanced technology, so while he could be wearing a concealed force field he probably isn't.

Another round of shots blast from their guns, prompting me to backpedal and erect a construct shield. They're getting used to moving through the air under their own power, trying to spread out and apply their training to a new situation. Their heads are covered, so I doubt that a light or scent based attack would work. That leaves-

A flying kick towards the back of my head prompts me to drop to lay just above the ground, the soldier who made it flailing in the air as they try to get the hang of the physics of the situation. I generate a construct claw and grab them around the torso before slamming them into their dazed comrade pulling himself out of his punch-inflicted hole.

-sonics, since the officer was clearly communicating by speaking out loud.

Sonic screamer.

Compliance.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

The Daxamites wince, several dropping their guns to stick their hands over their ears in an attempt to keep the horrific sound out. More modern Kryptonian armour would include sound baffles. Heck, these might if the officer had bothered putting on his own suit. But the lack of combat experience means that the soldiers might not know about it and the lack of command experience means that the officer doesn't know what to do about it.

The youth… Grabbed the alien and did the sort of flying leap which Kon used to do to travel longer distances. On the edge of my sonic attack he stumbles his landing, and the alien supports both of them as they continue moving away.

A flash of wide beam heat vision flashes over my construct armour, destroying my amplifier constructs. Okay, the objective here isn't to beat these soldiers in a fight, but Daxam has pretty good interdiction systems. Heck, that's how it's remained isolated this long. It's nothing that I can't bypass given a few hours, but I can't just grab my targets and leave in a flash.

The officer grabs a pair of earphones from underneath his robes and I shoot them with an energy pulse, disintegrating them. He looks enraged at my action, which only confirms my belief that he doesn't have a great deal of experience.

Hang on. Daxamites are weakened by their own red dwarf. Lead probably… Interferes with their own internal radiation… Whatever, they've never let anyone study them in any detail. Would red light weaken them back to-

Two soldiers lunge in concert, constantly moving as they jab at my armour with their fists. My construct armour starts cracking at once. There's the demi-Kryptonian strength that I haven't missed at all. I take six x-ionised knives out of subspace and slash out. The soldier in front of me backs off at once, while the one behind takes the opportunity to punch me in the back of the head-. Ow! The construct armour fails and my environmental shield merely managed to turn a lethal attack into a painful one. On the positive side, the knives slid neatly through his armour and into his right arm, right leg and chest and from the way he's bleeding I don't think he's going to try attacking me again. I reconstruct my construct armour and take out my kinetic shield.

-normal levels? Or do I just keep going with the knives?

No. I'm a gosh darn superhero.

Ring, 1000 nanometre wavelength burst.

Compliance.

And -okay, the youth is out of line of sight- power armour.

Compliance.

My armour's display shows me the infrared burst cover my attackers, one incoming heat vision attack suddenly flickering and failing. Ah excellent!

"You'll never win, alien!" The officer stares at me, left hand touching the blood leaking from his left ear. "Our ancestors provided us with more terrible weapons than you can possibly dream of!"

Ring, translate this into Kryptonese.

Compliance.

"I greet you on behalf of the House of El."

He jerks in surprise. "What?"

"The House of El." I extend filaments to the bleeding soldier just behind me and start sealing the holes I just made. And add a glowing orange 'S' to my chest plate. "I was hoping to establish contact-."

"We have no desire to communicate with the worst of our old world's monsters!"

"Whatever they did, they're dead now. Krypton is destroyed, and a mere handful of survivors-."

He smiles cruelly. "Praise Rao for their destruction. If they dare come here then we will finish them off."

"My lord was newly born when it happened. There is no way he could have played any part-."

Alert. Spatial anomaly detected.

What sort of anomaly?

If this ring could characterise it, then it would not be an 'anomaly'.

Fair point. And I've learned that the Daxamites won't exactly be overjoyed to meet Kal-El. Time to leave.

The air bends around me as I fly after the youth and his comrade. I come to a stop just behind them, about three hundred metres from my previous position. The alien crouches, fists ready. The youth's eyes are glowing.

I hold up my hands. "Peace! Please!" I send my power armour back to subspace, and reduce the strength of the construct armour covering my face. This appears to calm him down a-.

"I can understand you! You have a translator!"

The alien looks overjoyed at the notion.

"Yes, and I can evacuate you from this planet if you like. But I'm mostly here for-."

"What did you do to my father?"

"That was your-? Ah… Made him… Really angry? And partially deaf. He's not seriously hurt. Um, what's your name?"

"Sodam Yat."

Ah. Well, I hope Atrocitus wasn't too attached to that prophecy. But…

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to try to stop my father murdering my friend. What do you want?"

I smile. "Funny you should ask… "

4th September
07:02 GMT -6

Lynne prods listlessly at her porridge while Miss Shimmer fiddles with her mobile phone. I'd say something, but she is an adult. The.. lad and one of his younger brothers are at the table as well. The younger boy is called Stephan, and he keeps staring at everything in a way which I'm really going to have to teach him not to. All of the boys are reacting well to the anti-monster treatment, while the girls… The younger ones have taken to their version just fine. Bethany and Mary -the ones who have hit puberty- are… Being problematic. At this rate I'm going to have to authorise the use of some sort of libido binding, and I'd much rather avoid that if at all possible. Those sorts of spell can have all kinds of adverse psychological effects, and you'd have to be some sort of idiot to rely on them in the long term.

I beam at my daughter. "Looking forward to starting school tomorrow?"

She scoops up a chunk of well-congealed porridge and puts it into her mouth. I'd.. complain about her avoiding talking to me by starting to eat something she showed no desire to eat a moment ago, but I know full well that I did the exact same thing at her age and… Frankly, some normal child-behaviour from her is something to encourage!

The… The lad -I've got to find out if he's got a middle name or something- on the other hand nods enthusiastically. "Yes, Mister Grayven. Um. Mister Grayven?"

"Yes?"

"Um… Why are we going to school?"

"In order to learn things."

"Um. Yes. But…"

"The G-Gnomes already covered the school curriculum as well as a variety of things you ordinarily wouldn't be taught until college?" Didn't have much choice, really. Up until the US military handed Lynne over to SHADE they at least made some effort at schooling. The Succupires on the other hand never had any. The older ones were able to teach the younger ones to read using food packets left behind by the germ warfare people, but beyond that? Almost nothing. The G-Gnomes had to spend weeks just building up the fundamentals so they could learn the rest. "Is that what you're wondering?"

"Yeah. That's… Were there things they didn't teach us?"

I nod. "Almost certainly. G-Gnomes can't teach you things which they don't know themselves. And one of the things they very definitely don't know is how to be Human."

"Well..? I'm not Human."

"How to pretend to be Human, then. I mean… Which lifestyle do you prefer?"

"Oh! Human!" His eyes flick to Stephan for a moment. "Definitely."

Yes, he'd have been eating you in a year or two, wouldn't he? "I should probably say that there's nothing wrong with being who you are… But in your case, there clearly was. The point of sending you to school is to teach you how to be able to act like a normal Human. You're learning social skills which the G-Gnomes can't teach you, not knowledge they can implant. And, eventually, your personal curriculum will include learning how to use your particular supernatural abilities."

Gloria was not happy to see me. But as I said to her: tough. Don't kill small animals and eat them raw if you're afraid of getting found out. Mrs Briggs was a bit more positive, if 'disturbed and horrified' can be parsed as a positive feeling. She was at least willing to share what little her coven taught her before being slaughtered. Should I feel worse about assuming that I'm going to be training a generation of child soldiers? But… A weapon you don't know how to use is a weapon that belongs to your enemy. If I get them to the point where they can live normal lives, I would of course help them do so.

But I can't deny that a group of super charismatic shapeshifting magic users would be very useful.

Miss Shimmer gets up without either saying anything or making eye contact with anyone, and heads towards the door.

"Oh, Miss Shimmer!?"

She stops. "Hm?"

"We might have a magic user staying with us for a little while. Would you mind showing her your work?"

She looks up. "Ah, sure. I'm not doing anything super-critical right now." She blinks, then frowns slightly. "Wait, this isn't some kind of friendship thing, is it? 'cause I think Zatanna was kind of a fluke."

"No, she's a potential ally of mine and I want to convince her that we know what we're doing as far as magic is concerned. Her practical knowledge is excellent but her theory may be a little behind yours. And… She's quite a bit older than you."

"Oh." She shrugs. "Sure. Just give me a day's warning or whatever."

"Will do, if reasonably-" I've lost her to the phone again. "-practical." She starts walking away. "Have fun!"

"I'll be working."

"Doesn't mean that you can't have fun doing it!" She's almost out of the door. "I generally do!" When I'm not being shot, nuked or Anti-Lifed.

"Daddy?" My attention immediately focuses on Lynne. "I'm… I'm… Worried."

I smile benevolently down at her. "Of course you are. It's a big change of pace. I myself was quite nervous before I started Secondary School, and that was knowing that there would be people I knew in my classes. But you'll adjust, just as you adjusted to being taught at the Center for Paranormal Studies."

"And people..? Won't think I'm weird?"

I nod reassuringly. "Of course they'll think you're weird-."

She sags, but in a good-humoured sort of way. "Daaaad."

"I imagine that people will find a trainee superhero fascinating. You… Might want to avoid talking about some parts-."

"I figured that out for myself."

"But… You might find that a little light touch telepathic probing will help guide you through some of the initial confusion. Just so long as you don't let it become a crutch." Lynne nods, then gets up to carry her bowl to the dishwasher. I honestly think I've done all that I can to prepare her. Except her wardrobe, which I left up to Miss Amane because… Look at me. "You know, you and the boys could try going to the park today? Make a start on that socialisation thing?"

"Yeah. Maybe. What are you doing today, Dad?"

I gently push my chair back and rise to my feet. "More networking. With Adam-. Adom awake and himself they need someone around who can translate for him and explain the modern legal process. I'm mostly just sitting in a room while other people talk to each other. Not very interesting, I'm afraid."

She nods, then she leads the way out of the room with the lad and Stephen following close behind.

I wait until the door shuts.

"Mother Box. Boom tube to Fawcett City."

Ping. Ping.

It's got to be done.

Ping.

The portal opens, and closes again the moment I step through. I don't even bother looking around; the cheery disposition of this place will just make what follows worse.

"Mother Box. Boom tube to the Tower of Rage."

Ping.

I give myself a quick once-over as the portal opens. Armour, weapons, tough looking… I should be able to get past the Lowlies without too much difficulty.

But it isn't the Lowlies that you're worried about, is it Corpsman?

No. But if I can't even bring myself to stand in his presence…

Then he's already won. Quite right.

I take a deep breath, harden my expression and then stride forwards.

4th September
07:07 GMT -6
Self=Null

I look around as the boom tube closes behind me. The brief image I saw when aiding Teth Adom doesn't do it justice. The flicker as the fug that makes up Apokolips' breathable atmosphere causes the lights of a distant industrial complex to twist and dance. The disturbingly grey-brown sky made of industrial effluence and reflected light from the fire pits. Apokolips doesn't actually have a sun. If that… Vertigo comic about suns being sophonts was correct, I suppose… They've just got better taste.
Self=Null

Either that or Father killed it.
Self=Null

The ring is filtering out most of the stench, for which I am quite grateful. In most cities there's a graduation of squalor; the slums on the outskirts, then tenements, middle class housing before you reach the splendour of the central business district. On Apokolips, Father had the Tower of Rage built in the middle of the Armagetto so that he could be just a little closer to the misery.
Self=Null

I angle my head down slightly as I float down the main boulevard towards the Tower of Rage. It's… Reasonably well maintained, the workers not daring do anything less than everything they can when within line of sight of Darkseid. As I glance from side to side I catch a glimpse of a few of them; haggard and half-starved wretches who freeze or flee the moment they see me. I try to avoid giving any indication that I've seen them; not because an Apokoliptian Elite necessarily would behave like that, but because I don't want them doing anything-.
Self=Null

"I die for Darkseid."
Self=Null

Anything like that. I keep my face carefully blank as the man lands chest first on the stone slab in front of me, the fall smashing everything. Death must have been near-instantaneous, though given where we are I doubt that physical death marks the end of his suffering.
Self=Null

I hate this place so much. Revulsion From Contradiction.

Steady, Corpsman.

Why? Sinestro, why? If he decides to make a fight of this I've got next to no chance with you anyway. And staying myself, retaining my own emotions in a place like this is a far better defence than a slight buff to my environmental shield.

There is always a way to win, Corpsman. Even against a foe such as Darkseid.

Apokolips is one of the few worlds to have flat out beat a Green Lantern Corps invasion. Father keeps one of your predecessors around so that he can perfect his Green-Lantern-breaking technique. There are treasure rooms full of defunct personal lanterns and power rings. I like to think that I'm pretty dangerous but I'm not a Lantern Corps. Oh, why do I even bother? There's no way that the Guardians left that little snippet in the Book of Oa. It's full of rules and inspirational tales, not arse kickings.

You are correct on that score, Corpsman. But as First Lantern, I was privy to a great deal that is kept from the rest of the Corps. I know about Raker Qarrigat. The last time I cried was when I watched the recordings of a generation of my Corps being slaughtered on the killing fields of Apokolips. I know the evils of this place.

Sinestro…

I look up as a flight of three aero-troopers spot me and begin their attack run.

As you are now, can you still hate?

I do not believe so, Corpsman. But perhaps I will tolerate you hating for me.

"Trespasser!" The lead aero-trooper comes to a halt in the air a little way above me while his wingmen hang back. Ah, Apokoliptian NCOs; he's claimed the right to first blood. If he thinks that I'm someone he can kill, he'll do it merely to increase his personal kill count. "Halt and make yourself known!"

I hate this place so very much…

I stop and smile pleasantly up at him. "I am Grayven, son of Darkseid." The signs of his fear are obvious. The slight widening of his eyes. The movement of his mouth as he suddenly finds it entirely bereft of saliva. "I am here to visit my father. Would you be so good as to-?"

"Blasphemer!"

Oh. Not scared of me. Scared to be near to someone claiming kinship with Darkseid. Scared to consider Darkseid's retribution against an obviously false claimant and anyone near him.

But still. Fear.

Darkseid-shaped construct armour forms around me, easily absorbing their volley of blaster bolts. I let my eyes glow for a moment, then send twin beams lancing through the air in the towards the squad leader. He attempts to evade for a few seconds until it becomes clear that they're following him regardless, then he… Just stops, turns, and lets them hit him with a smile on his face.

I can't even begin…

The others drop their guns, drop out of the sky, barely manage to prevent themselves falling off their flight discs in their hurry to fall on their faces before me. They grovel… Something. Between their armour and the stone slabs they're mashing their faces into their words are a little indistinct.

I stop looking at them and return my gaze to the Tower of Rage in the distance. Is it..? No. It's like the thing with the Mona Lisa's eyes. I don't believe for a moment that the representations of Father's face are actually watching me. Or smiling. Though I suppose that for a New God as strong as Father it's perfectly possible…

"Get up. You are not Lowlies; you are soldiers of Apokolips." "Feel pride in your strength!"

They raise themselves very slightly from the ground. The aero-troopers are elite soldiers, not beasts like the Parademons or techno-organic perversions like the Suicide Jockeys. Technically they're New Gods as well. Just far weaker ones than me. And not likely to grow stronger in a place where I can feel the Anti-Life in the very air.

"My lord." / "My lord."

"Oh, stop." I walk past them and then come to a halt. "Arm yourselves."

I don't look, but I do hear them picking up their blasters and remounting their aero discs.

"I have no need for an escort, but it would be convenient for me to not have to bother with anyone who was not a member of the Elite. Clear my path, that I may complete my journey and greet my father."

"At once, my lord!"

And they're gone, which is probably for the best. I don't want them to… I don't know, ritually disembowel themselves or something. You know, you'd think that living in a place like this they'd just do what Humans do and grow accustomed to pointless killing. I'm afraid of Darkseid because I value my life, my relationships, my sense of self. But if pain's normal and Darkseid is wonderful… Why were they so afraid?

There is a Human expression, Corpsman. Even a Worm an inch long has half an inch of spirit in it. Perhaps what they truly fear is that one day they will stop fearing. That one day they will truly understand the mind of the one who rules them, and that on that day they will be the ones stepping off the roof.

Don't bother, Sinestro. I know that fear is your thing, but I don't think that I want to understand this.

I used fear as a tool with which to create order. This… Is a very long way from my vision.

I smile humourlessly.

Oh, but you haven't seen the best bits yet.

4th September
07:51 GMT -6

I hesitate as I step out of the shaft and onto the level of the Tower of Rage containing Father's throne room. Assuming that he hasn't moved since Father Box was last informed of the layout his actual chambers are elsewhere, but every so often he does actually hold court in the way Queen Hegra did. The difference being that she did it because she actually needed the support of her Elite retainers. Darkseid most assuredly does not. At a time like this I can't help but think of Lonnie Machin's confrontation with Darkseid, and that stupid Blasphemy demon, oh so subtly claiming the authority of God for itself and so undermining the very concept of God. Honestly, the whole thing was so obvious that it was somewhat puerile-.

I force myself to take another step, then another. See, not so hard. My 'escort' did their job. I certainly wasn't troubled on the way here and I-.

"…defy Prince Grayven's orders!"

I look around at the sound. Oh, who are they shouting at now? That is in the direction of Darkseid's chambers, but it isn't really on my way. Have they decided that my request also covers cleaning staff who happen to be in the same general area?

"The Master has ordered me to-."

"Silence. wretch!"

I hear a dull thump. So far, so Apokoliptian. I doubt that Father would be impressed to learn that I stuck my neck out for one of them-

-but then this whole exercise is about testing his boundaries, isn't it? I turn aside from my path and head in the direction of the sounds. Darkseid's actual quarters aren't all that large. They're the same ones that he had as Crown Prince Drax's younger and less favoured brother. I'm not completely sure why he didn't change. Perhaps stubbornness. More likely because he doesn't care any longer about trivial things like that.

Heh. I know where Darkseid shits.

"I-I was told to-."

"You dare to-."

"Alright, that's enough."

I step around the corner. A New God -a weak one by the feel of it- is laying on the floor, not daring to rise. Her skin is alabaster white and her hair raven black. She's wearing a purple and gold fifties swimsuit sort of garment, accessorised with purple and gold gloves which go up to the middle of her upper arm and similarly coloured thigh boots. A black and red… Cap? Headdress? Decorated with a golden skull has been knocked from her head and lays beside her on the floor. There's a purple choker around her neck with a red stone over her windpipe. Her eyes don't leave the floor and rich rivers of fear flow from her, but none of it is directed at her attackers.

No prizes for guessing who it is for.

The two aero-troopers back off, bowing to me as I approach the fallen woman. Mother Box, who is she? Her face looks familiar, but I can't quite place it.

Ping.

Oh. Wait, how many does he have?

Ping.

Oh sssshazbot.

Darkseid has absolutely no need for political marriage. The last woman anyone can remember him being intimate with was Tigra, and he hated her so much that when Justeen killed her he gave her a promotion. And yet, Grayven exists and gets recognised as being Darkseid's son. There are only so many places he could have come from.

I reach out to her with my right hand. "Mother."

I ignore the cringing and cowering of the aero-troopers to study her face as she turns her face upwards towards me. I can see what DeSaad was going for, and the facial structure is more or less there. But the ears are wrong, and-. She was Human?

"Grayven?"

I nearly say 'No, I'm Orion in disguise', but I think better of it. "Indeed. It's.. been a while. But it is good to see you again." I pointedly look at my hand and then back to her. "Will you take my hand?"

"Thank-thank you, my lord." She reaches up with her right hand-

Ping.

-which is the one that can cause sleep, and grasps my palm. Gently as I can, I help her upright. Now, what to do about the other two?

I don't look at them. "You buffoons have exceeded my orders and assaulted Father's bedmate while she was executing his. If you are dead before my meeting with him concludes I will not consider it necessary to inform him of that fact. Now, begone."

They bego and I take a purple healing ray projector from my armour and point it at Mortalla. "Hold still."

She holds completely still as I play the beam over her wounds. They don't heal as quickly as they would for a Human… Given that she's weak for a New God I imagine that's more to do with the presiding atmosphere of Apokolips instead of her innate resistance, but I don't know enough to be sure. Hm. I take my personal mana infuser off and offer it to her.

"Please, accept this as a gift. I'm sure that I've missed a few Mother's Days. It should make it a little harder for Father's thugs to-."

"You-." She gingerly touches her lip where it was bleeding as I lower the ray. "G-Grayven, you should not call him that. He does not like it when-."

"When Kalibak does it, yes. If I'd sired Kalibak, I doubt that I'd like being reminded of the fact either. I'm sure that if he had a problem with me doing so, he would have mentioned it during our last meeting."

"V-very well." She gingerly takes the mana infuser and holds it to her chest with both hands.

"It's… It's designed to be worn around your.. arm."

"Darkseid commissioned this for me." She crouches, picking up her headdress with her left hand and restoring it to its place upon her head. "I dare not modify it, save by his leave."

"Alright then. I'll ask him about it. Um. Are you alright.. here?"

"I-." Her eyes go to the floor again. "I am where he has bade me be."

Okay, well… It's not like I ever thought that I was the only one whose soul he'd crushed. Even if DeSaad did most of the legwork with this one. I go to turn away-

-and then turn back, bend down slightly and envelop her in my arms.

"It is good to see you again, Mother." "Consider yourself under my protection."

I think she might be trying to hug back, but she's under six foot tall and normally proportioned while I'm huge. Then I step back, smiling as friendly a smile as I can manage. Her smile is slight and hesitant, as if the muscles in her face were new to her. But it's there.

I turn away and head in the direction of Father's throne room.

4th September
07:56 GMT -6

My, what big doors you have.

I stand outside the doors to Father's throne room and look at them for a moment. No ushers or heralds here, apparently. Should I knock, or-?

I raise my hands and stride forward, pushing the doors open as I proceed inside.
Self=Darkseid
Father notes my arrival with apparent disinterest from his seat on the dais at the far end of the room. The seat itself is a simple 'U', unostentatious in order to direct the eye towards its owner.
Self=Darkseid
Which at this point is quite unnecessary.
Self=Darkseid
I walk towards Father's dais, arms folded behind my back. A quick look around the room reveals a standard crowd scene of the Apokoliptian Elite lining my path to the throne. This is the first time most of them have seen 'Grayven' in a very long time, and I want the resemblance between myself and Father to stick in their minds. From the slight tinge of fear I can feel in the room, I think I might be successful.
Self=Darkseid
DeSaad's lurking at Father's right hand, looking… Crap as ever, but he doesn't appear to have suffered any long term effects from my last meeting with him.
Self=Darkseid
Kalibak is closest to me, his smouldering glare giving me a pretty good idea how he feels about the situation, the nails of his left hand visibly drawing blood from his left palm and his right clenched tight around the grip of his beta club. This iteration of Kalibak has little in common with his moronic Apokolips 12 alter ego; while not one of the universe's deepest thinkers he's a good tactician in addition to being strong and remarkably fast and agile. He's the second biggest immediate threat to me in this room.
Self=Darkseid
I stop in front of him, meeting him face to face. "Kalibak. Brother." I extend my right hand. "It's been a while. How are you?" "I greet you as my equal."
Self=Darkseid
Kalibak merely bares his teeth. "Father's protection is the one thing that stops me grinding you to paste."
Self=Darkseid
I nod sadly, then lower my hand. "Dear brother, please know that I bear you no ill will. If you should find yourself in the vicinity of my home, I would consider a visit from you to be an honour."
Self=Darkseid
I turn away and continue down the line. Three of Doctor Bedlam's animates stand to my right. Two are dressed like Lowlies while the lead member of the trio is dressed in the manner of the escapologist Baron Bedlam from the Seven Soldiers series. Steppenwolf-. Great Uncle Steppenwolf and Virman Vundabar stand on the opposite side, apparently having only just broken off their conversation in order to look at me.
Self=Darkseid
"Great Uncle. Commander." "It humbles me that great warriors such as yourselves have made time to greet me at my homecoming. Thank you."
Self=Darkseid
Steppenwolf gives me a smile and a nod, while Virman looks less impressed. Though given the set of his face, I can well believe that's the only expression of which he's physically capable.
Self=Darkseid
The others… No Kanto, Amazing Grace is dead, Devilance… Don't know what happened to him after I sent him back, though if I'm officially in Father's good books I doubt that it was terminal. No Glorious Godfrey… Need to keep an eye out for that one. Justeen's standing close to DeSaad, though whether to protect him or backstab him I can't be sure.
Self=Darkseid
Granny Goodness stands a little further forward on Father's left, smiling affectionately down at me. She… Actually looks like a slightly buffer version of my late grandmother on Earth Prime. Maybe with slightly bigger hair. And far more abusive, obviously, and a New God.
Self=Darkseid
So not much like gran at all, really. It's the grey perm that put me in mind of her.
Self=Darkseid
Bernadeth, Stompa and Knockout stand just behind her, the only representatives of Father's 'bodyguard' present, and… Huh. No other soldiers. Not that any of the people here couldn't outfight, say… Ten aero-troopers each without too much difficulty. Just strikes me as a little odd.
Self=Darkseid
"Grayven." Granny Goodness steps towards me just as I reach her, her arms open in a way that implies a desire to embrace me. "Granny has missed you. And I hear that you have a little one of your own now? You've grown up so quickly." "You will allow Granny to educate her and turn her into a proper Apokoliptian, won't you."
Self=Darkseid
"Granny. You appear to be keeping well." "She's already been broken by the Anti-Life directly. Breaking her further serves no useful purpose to me."
Self=Darkseid
She manages to mostly keep the disgruntlement from her face. Hm. She didn't get Kalibak, she didn't get Orion… She got Scott and failed completely. Her Orphanage does have relatively conventional education facilities as well as random torture. I wonder where other Apokoliptians go to learn things?
Self=Darkseid
"Though -if you will forgive the impertinence- I do have a favour to beg of you? Lynne starts school tomorrow, and I need to arrange a bodyguard for her. Someone skilled, determined and reliable. And preferably not known to any local groups. Naturally, your Furies were the first people I thought of. If you and-" My eyes move to the figure at the top of the dais. "-Father could possibly spare one?" "I find the prospect of adding such warriors to my retinue delightful."
Self=Darkseid
Granny smiles. "Dear boy, has one caught your eye?"
Self=Darkseid
"Where such fine warriors are concerned, I find myself spoilt for choice. But Barda-" Her face twitches. "-did have a few choice things to say about Knockout in particular. I find the words of one's enemies to be an excellent guide in such matters."
Self=Darkseid
Granny Goodness recovers, clapping her hands together. "Then no one else will do for our glorious sovereign's granddaughter."
Self=Darkseid
I nod respectfully. "Thank you."
Self=Darkseid
Next…
Self=Darkseid
Then I reach the foot of the dais and I kneel, head bowed. "Darkseid." "My liege."
Self=Darkseid
"Please, my son. Rise. No such formality is necessary between us."
Self=Darkseid
"Thank you, Father." I rise, looking him in the eyes for just a moment before aligning my eyes to a point just below his own. "And thank you for granting me this audience at such short notice."
Self=Darkseid
"Think nothing of it." He leans forwards slightly in his chair. "I see that you have already adapted to the Anti-Life fragment which I bestowed upon you. It may interest you to know that I gained comprehension of the particular fragment which I gifted to you through DeSaad's work. After your encounter with him, it seemed to be the most appropriate."
Self=Darkseid
Oh. That makes sense. There's a slight shifting in the crowd. I'm not sure if it's due to Darkseid willingly giving part of the Anti-Life equation away or that I still appear to be functional despite him having done so.
Self=Darkseid
"Tell me, how do you feel?"
Self=Darkseid
"To be frank, Father, I feel a biting bitterness in the deepest part of my soul. A constant reminder of the lowest point in my life, and I fear that I may never feel anything quite so intensely or so freely again. And I feel that I now carry within me a bane that might at any moment reach out through me and crush everything I've built, everything I've valued. It is horrifying."
Self=Darkseid
He smiles faintly. "Then it seems as though you have adapted well. Without being weakened by the exposure. This pleases me."
Self=Darkseid
Does he..? Think that I've integrated it as he has done? How would he respond to-? "I apologise if I misinterpreted the nature of the challenge, Father. Scott and I used my soul to build a cage to contain it. I try to avoid interfacing with it as much as possible."
Self=Darkseid
"But you have done so, have you not?"
Self=Darkseid
I nod. "Yes. Briefly."
Self=Darkseid
"Then all is as I intended." Oh shit. "But tell me, my son, what brings you to Apokolips so long after your pointed leave-taking?"
Self=Darkseid
"Oh, a few things." I turn my head to the left and then to the right. "I thought that it might be wise to say 'hello' to a few people, remind anyone who'd forgotten me of my existence. But, more importantly, there are one or two articles I was hoping that you would be willing to provide me with."
Self=Darkseid
"For the help you have already given me in studying the Anti-Life, I believe that it is only appropriate that I be accommodating. Tell me what it is that you desire, my son, and I will see that it is provided to you."
Self=Darkseid
"Thank you, Father."

5th September
07:56 GMT -6

I clap my hands together, smiling at the assembled munchkins.

"Everyone ready, children?"

Jean looks mildly offended at the idea that she'd have allowed things to become so disorganised that they wouldn't be, but most of the Succupires smile as they hold aloft their backpacks. A good job that they aren't all the same age, otherwise Rifle Middle School might have needed an extra class this year. Sad to say, for purely academic achievement it isn't actually a particularly good school. Certainly not compared to places to which I could send them. But for learning how normal Humans interact with each other it's near-perfect.

I considered trying to sort out a camera system for Bethany and Mary, but I don't think that it would really be possible for them to learn the social interaction lessons properly that way. I've stuck them on duty monitoring my wildlife habitats, and generally doing whatever Jean wants them to do. As sexless creatures Genomorphs don't set them off, so that should be reasonably safe. Nothing else I can do that I'm not doing already. Assuming that things go well on Friday I'll ask Circe to have a go at fixing the two of them.

"Lynne?"

She gives me a little eye roll, then half-heartedly holds her satchel up as well. "Ready, Dad."

"Alright then." A boom tube appears next to me, the far end opening a little way from the school entrance. Stephan dashes forward, but I reach down and stop him by picking him up and holding him against my right shoulder. "Just a minute. Knockout?"

Knockout strides forward, fists balled and eager for affray. I'm not sure that she entirely understands the nature of her assignment, but unlike whatever it was that led her to Earth in the comics this is an official Darkseid-sanctioned mission. As long as I don't ask her to do anything outside her nature and throw the occasional fight in her direction I'm reasonably confident that she'll do as she's directed.

Quite what effect the sight of the buff, 6 foot 1 tall, auburn haired, 200 pound super strong alien woman will have upon the good people of Rifle, Colorado, I'm not entirely certain. But they've adapted reasonably well to the other oddities that come with me living here so I doubt that there will be any huge problems.

"Alright, file through."

I put Stephan down, and he giggles slightly before scurrying through slightly ahead of the pack. The Lad -responsible chap that he is- follows through after his brother, making sure to keep an eye on everyone else as well. Then Maeve, Christopher, Clare and Sarah head on through, with Lynne bringing up the rear.

I hold out my left hand to Mortalla. "Mother? Shall we?"

She's stepping towards me to take my hand even before she's decided that she will. She's just so used to obeying that her body is in motion before her mind entirely registers the instruction. Which has been useful, as I didn't get all that much information on her background from Father Box and I don't remember her from the comics at all. It turns out that one of the modifications DeSaad made to her removed her memories of her life on Earth. And since he clearly altered her face and her genes I can't track down where she came from originally. It was quite a while ago though, certainly over five hundred years as she remembers when Kanto first joined Father's retinue.

Sadly, one of the other modifications DeSaad made is a strictly limited version of my Awakening. Intentionally. The energy systems are arranged in such a way that after a certain point they shed power rather than gathering it. Mortalla will never reach full power. Mother Box was quite dispirited when we realised that we couldn't fix it without… Basically unpicking her whole soul. I mean, she doesn't need more power or anything, but… Why not be as strong as you can be? The March of Progress Shall Be Eternal.

We walk out into the morning sun and the boom tube closes behind us. Knockout is eagerly scouring the crowd for potential threats while The Lad is busy dispatching his siblings towards their teachers. Lynne looks up at me and I bend down to envelop her in a hug. "You'll be fine, poppet."

She holds onto me for a moment, then pulls away and gives me a nod. "Okay Dad. I love you."

"I love you too. Now, run along."

She nods, and then looks up at Mortalla. "Bye, Grandma!"

Mortalla hesitates for a moment before nervously smiling at Lynne. "Goodbye, Lynne."

Mortalla hasn't really adjusted to Lynne yet. She clearly doesn't know how to interact with her: nothing in her Apokoliptian life giving her any experience as to how to handle it. So far she's opted for a sort of nervous politeness as if dealing with someone related to someone important. Lynne was surprised to be introduced to a mother I had never previously mentioned, but she at least knows how that sort of thing is supposed to work and has taken it in her stride.

"Morning, Grayven!"

I stand, looking around as I do so. "Good morning, Clara." She works at Wingnutz Bar and Grill, and since making a policy of spending at least one evening a week there we've become friendly. "Doing the school run as well?"

"Today and every other day." We both turn to look at the children stream in and I catch sight of her elder son, Patrick. "Was that whole swarm of rugrats yours?"

"I… Sort of? They don't have any other surviving family-"

That I know about. Their father's DNA had broken down by the time I scanned his remains. I don't know enough about Vampires to know if that's typical or not. I suppose that their mother technically had however many thousands of sisters.. and quite possibly brothers as well, but I doubt that they'd show much of an interest in the upbringing of their nephews and nieces.

"-and I've taken it upon myself to look after them. I haven't actually adopted them."

Clara stops smiling, looking serious and… A little impressed. "I.. think that's a really good thing you're doing, Grayven. I mean, it's not-."

"Not cutting someone's head off." I nod. "Yeah, that's-."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you don't usually see superheroes doing that."

"Robin's adopted."

"Right. And Batman has him fighting violent criminals on the streets of Gotham."

"Superboy and Match were adopted by Wonder Woman."

"Sure, but they were already teenagers. Younger kids take a whole lot more effort." She frowns at Knockout, who is following Lynne into the school building. "Who was that?"

"Knockout. Lynne's bodyguard. I wish it wasn't necessary, but after what happened in Metropolis I don't think it would be safe for her or for the other children if there wasn't someone on hand. Oh, and this is my mother, Mortalla."

Clara takes a look at the lithe, white skinned goddess standing next to me. "She's-? You're his mom?"

Mortalla glances at me, uncertain how to respond. "Yes?"

Clara grins in a friendly sort of way. "Hope I look that good when I'm your age!"

"I.. am.. over five hundred years old. I mean no offence, but it is unlikely."

Despite having nothing to work off, Clara has another go. "You wouldn't have a big folder of Grayven's baby photos, would you? 'Cause I've been wondering what he looked like back then."

"I-. No. I have no photographs, or other images." She appears to shrink in on herself slightly. "I was not… Permitted…"

Clara clearly doesn't know what to make of that. "Er..?"

I lay my right hand on Mortalla's shoulder. "My father is a loathsome man and I am very glad that my mother is now living with me and not with him. And that is all I want to say on the matter."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry-."

"It's fine." I rotate my right hand slightly, directing Mortalla in the direction of the boom tube I just generated. "I will see you this evening."

And I'm going to ensure that Mortalla is surrounded by decent people like you for as long as she's here. No one deserves Darkseid.

5th September
14:58 GMT -5

"You know… I had a plan. And you were going to be a part of it."

For the first time in some considerable time, I make use of one of Guy's mental exercises. I take control of my breathing, close my eyes, count to five… Picture something happy…

"I know I'm not… My people skills… Need work. I can be persuasive, beguiling… But I generally associate with people on my wavelength. Killers. Or, at least people who understand that killing is sometimes productive. You didn't, you weren't… That wasn't you."

My conversation partner remains entirely silent.

"And… I excluded you. I didn't think you had anything useful to teach me. I'm not… Not sure I was wrong, but I should have-. I should have given you the opportunity to demonstrate… One way or the other. Especially after I left the team. I think… I think you'd have liked being involved with Lynne and.. the other girls and the boys. And after… After my undercover work finished… I might have done something then if Father hadn't decided to pay a visit, but afterwards I just… I needed to get away from Earth for a while."

An unamused laugh escapes through my teeth.

"And then I came back and I thought… 'Now's the time'. 'Seize the day'." I bow my head. "And everything-."

I'm shaking as I glare at Alan Scott's grave.

"And you have the temerity to die in my absence! You managed ninety years, could you not manage a single month!?"

No, no, it's-. It's stupid. It didn't even occur to me to check! This isn't a comic; named characters can die here!

We weren't even that close, why do I feel like… Like some important opportunity has been snatched from me?

"I'm a little surprised to find you here."

I don't look around as Diana walks up behind me. "He was a good man."

She doesn't say anything, just stands there beside me.

Gah! I tilt my head back, twisting my head back and forth. "He was a good man and he deserved better than me as his heir!"

"I don't think he saw it like that. He gave you back-."

That makes me turn around. "Yes, well, he was wrong about lots of things. Don't try and pretend to me that he actually wanted someone like me. He shouldn't just have-. He shouldn't have had to give everything and get nothing back, like..."

I look away from her, standing in silence for a few moments. Then I crouch down and pick up the box at my side. "You served as the executor of his estate, did you not? You may as well have this."

I pass it to her and she carefully takes it in both hands, looking it over carefully. A simple polished wooden box about nine inches square at the base and fifteen tall. She frowns slightly, then holding the base with her right hand opens the lid with her left.

"Hera."

I look away. "Not that there's any point without him."

She reaches up and pulls out the green personal lantern with her left hand. "Does this mean that the Green Lantern Corps recruited you?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. They'd never recruit an Apokoliptian, and I'd be far too fearful to pass their selection criteria if they did." Something… Some uncertainty enters her-. "No, I didn't kill anyone." I shake my head. "The last Green Lantern to use that was killed during their attack on Apokolips. The Guardians themselves recognised it as being Darkseid's war prize. He was free to dispose of it however he liked."

"He gave it to you?" I nod. "Why?"

I throw up my hands. "Because I asked nicely. Why does he do anything? He's probably learning all sorts of interesting things about the Anti-Life from me this very minute."

"And why did you get it for Alan? I'm sure that he would have appreciated the thought, but he was an old man-."

"No. He wasn't." I shake my head. "Didn't you notice?"

"Alan was in his nineties."

"Alan was becoming a god. Whatever the Guardians did to his ring and lantern, he was-. He was absorbing the green light into himself, empowering his soul-. Didn't you notice how much younger he'd started looking just before I got here?"

She considers for a moment, then dips her head. "I… I hadn't thought about it. We hadn't been seeing as much of each other as we used to. How long had you known?"

"I'd suspected that something was up for a while. But it wasn't until I got back from Earth Fifty… What I did to their John Stewart… That I was sure. And before you ask, I didn't say anything-"

"I wasn't going to-."

"-because I didn't have any way to fix it. Once Guy told me the Guardians were avoiding recruiting him intentionally, once I checked that Qwardians and Controllers can't make green personal lanterns, there was only one place I could go for one."

"You went to Apokolips?" I nod. "You said that your father terrifies you."

"He does. He'd terrify you if you actually used your divine abilities. You know. Near him."

I sigh. Did he actually know, or did he just not care? This isn't the sort of pain that Jade… Jade caused, but it's still… In theory, I could have repaired my relationship with-. If Father hadn't appeared. If he hadn't appeared I might well have decided to do so. I'd assumed that it was about appearing before me at my lowest ebb, but… Did he assume that I'd manage? And he just wanted to encourage me to isolate myself from someone I loved? No, there's no way for me to find out. I can't assume that he's fixated on me in that way. The point is, Alan's dead. I can't improve our relationship now. Opportunity well and truly lost. Well done, Grayven.

Diana closes the box. "What would you like me to do with it?"

"I don't know. The whole reason I got it was for Alan." Think… "Do you still have his ring?" She hesitates. "If Jordan took it-."

"No, he didn't. And yes, I do. But I don't think that wearing a power ring-."

I hold up my right hand. "Don't even finish that sentence. You're wrong, but… Whatever. You could find someone to use it, or…" Huh. "The Watchtower was originally a Sector House, wasn't it? You could probably bring a whole lot of its advanced functions back online with a personal lantern."

"I think that the Guardians might find that insulting."

"What, that it's being used to aid a group of heroes rather than being displayed in an Apokoliptian trophy room? They're a pretty logical bunch. I'm sure that they'll get their heads around the idea."

"I will discuss it with the rest of the Justice League." She looks me over, then her eyes drift in the direction of Alan's grave. "There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, but I'm not sure that now is the time."

"Oh, you may as well. He's not going to get deader."

"You were seen in the company of Circe. Given-."

"Given that you apparently aren't prepared to kill her, I thought that acting as a civilising influence would be a good thing. See if I can… Solve her whole 'prophecy' problem so that she doesn't feel obliged to kill you any more. It's surprising how many supervillains have a great deal to offer the world but don't. Did you know that Leonard Snart, his sister and their mother were regularly beaten by his father for their entire childhoods?"

"I-. No, I didn't."

"So I thought, if I've got to keep an eye on Lex to make sure that he stays on the straight and narrow… Why don't I try that with other people as well?"

"Orin mentioned that you were on good terms with Queen Clea."

"Right. And I'm sure Billy will get around to mentioning Teth Adom eventually." I shrug. "I need something to do, working with the League… There'd be some fairly major trust issues. But if I can solve a few intractable problems, maybe that'll go some way to repaying my obligation to Alan."

Diana smiles, and for a moment everything feels right. She does know how to use it!

"I think he'd have approved greatly."

7th September
02:31 GMT

I step out into.. a small room and oh shit. Four construct wire clippers manifest around me and snip at the sinuous robotic limbs pinning down the shaking jellyfish-like alien on the slab in the room's centre. Despite their slender design, they manage to resist for a couple of seconds before the severed ends flop and the metal parts fall to the floor with a clunk. The one carrying what looks like a cross between some kind of surgical implement and a circular saw I simply disintegrate with an orange bolt.

What kind of fucked-up world is this?

I try to make eye contact with the jellyfish, and fail when I can't spot its eyes. "You alright there, chum?"

"What? What's happening? Who are you?"

"I'm-." Somewhere outside the room-. Ah, a cell. I suppose that makes a certain sense. Through a ring round window in the door I see flashing blue lights and the ring lets me sense the vibrations that are almost certainly an alarm. "I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps."

He? Yes, that's a 'he'. Or.. close enough. He rises off the bier, the robot clamps that had been holding him in place falling from his prehensile tentacles. How is he holding-. We're under water. I actually hadn't noticed. Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, space, methane: environmental shield. Water, same answer. Exactly what was around me just stopped being relevant some time ago.

"Orange..? Lantern? I have heard of Green Lanterns. They are some sort of universal enforcer."

"Partially true. Do you know who your local one is?"

"No. We don't have crime here. Other than..." Two of his more powerful tentacles make a figure of eight gesture. "Social… Deviants like me."

"Social deviants? What could you possibly do that would justify maiming you?"

I can see, of course. Following the same overwhelming drive that drew me here. A forbidden life style. Quite a few of the people I've been recruiting have been the same, and you'd be amazed what gets forbidden in some places. But I've also found that getting them to talk about it eases them into the idea of taking me up on my offer.

"We are a zero tactility culture. We practice total physical isolation. Aside from when I was arrested, this is the closest I have ever been to another living creature." He experiences a whole body twitch. "You are… Real..? Aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm real. Is there a convenient way out of here?"

"I-I don't know. They put me in an isolation unit to move me here. Can I..? Um."

"Can you what?"

"Can I touch you? I haven't ever really touched anyone before. We were… There were a group of us, and we… They arrested us before we could."

Ah. "I'm wearing an environmental shield and my species isn't aquatic, but if that's good enough for you? Go right-."

I'm enveloped in a mass of tentacles, the stronger ones wrapping themselves around my chest while two smaller ones prod and poke at my appendages and face.

Well.

This is…

Novel.

Um.

"Wrut?" I gently tug aside the tentacle rubbing itself over my lips. "What's your name?"

"Ratchetohthisisgood."

It's a minor relief that as far as I can tell this isn't a sexual thing for him. He is literally just this desperate for the touch of another living being. But he was intelligent enough to suppress it, then disguise it for-. Ratchet. The Red Lantern jellyfish. I'm not seeing a lot of-. I pull a tentacle away from my collar. I'm not seeing a lot of anger in him right now. Presumably this is from an earlier point in his timeline.

"Why did you come here?"

"I'm here to rescue you and offer you a job somewhere where touching people isn't a crime." Ah. "Where touching people with their permission isn't a crime."

"Are you still alright with me-?"

The door drops open and an armoured drone swims in. "Deviants will cease-."

I disintegrate the drone, then I fly-. I use constructs to lift Ratchet off me, then fly over to the doorway and cut though the metal of the door structure with an orange guillotine construct. "Do you know how far your planet's interdiction fields extend?"

"Three times the distance to our outer moon, but they aren't designed to stop Lanterns."

"Excellent news."

I tune my empathic vision to his particular desire and look around us. Seventy six individuals whose desire sets are a close match. And absolutely nothing to stop me grabbing every single one! Ah, I want to visit more planets not absurdly well equipped for fighting Lanterns, it makes my life so much easier. Beams of orange bore through the walls around me, blazing through armour, weak force fields, pipes and wiring -huh, they seal their maintenance ducts against the water, interesting- and into the other cells. The surgical devices have… Done their work with some, while others remain whole. Extend environmental shield… And one blast directly upwards.

And transition.

Space. A place that stopped being a final frontier for me some time ago. Toward the planet I see… Oh, that's… Slightly disturbing. They've set up a network of hologram satellites, and from the projections… They can't see space from the planet any longer.

Why would anyone do that intentionally? That sort of network can't be cheap to maintain-? No, focus.

"Hello everyone." Most of the shoal of jellyfish floating in my environmental shield turn to face me. "I'm the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. I am extending to you an offer of sanctuary on Maltus, where touching people is allowed. If you would prefer to return to prison, please indicate that desire now."

No one indicates that desire now.

"Please stand by for warp. We should arrive in about half an hour, then any of you with injuries will be provided with medical attention. Warp in three, two, one." Space bends as we leap away from the planet. "Warp."

And Ratchet has grabbed hold of me again. "I don't want to sound ungrateful. I like having all of my tentacles. They're my favourite part of my body for holding things. But why did you rescue us?"

"I don't think that what you did should be considered a crime, and it certainly shouldn't be punished in the way you were being punished. But mostly, because your desires are strong and stable and I think that means that you would make a good Orange Lantern."

"How so?"

"Orange Lanterns are powered by our desires."

"My strongest desire is for real social contact. How many people are there on Maltus?"

"About fifteen billion. And virtually none wear environmental suits."

"So… Many… People…"

Ratchet collapses.

8th September
21:03 GMT -5

Circe fidgets in her seat. "Why isn't she here?"

I look around the bar, full of people who are curious but nonetheless careful not to come too close to either me or the shimmering figure in the seat next to me.

"Amazon culture has many virtues, but punctuality is not one of them. Probably to do with the lack of-" Diana -wearing a trouser suit rather than her armoured bustier- pushes open the café door and walks towards us. "-accurate clocks."

Circe takes a deep and calming breath, which hisses a bit more than I suspect it was supposed to. "Couldn't she dress up a little?"

"She doesn't have a lot of clothes that don't draw attention. You did specify-."

Circe tosses her head as Diana passes through the ward before treating her long term foe to an almost believable smile. "Diana!"

"… Circe." Huh. Never heard Diana hesitate like that before. She pulls out a chair for herself and sits down. "I must say, I was somewhat surprised when Grayven told me that you wanted to meet with me."

"'Want' is…" Circe looks away for a moment. "Probably too strong a way of putting it. Having.. taken… Advice… I reached the conclusion that it really was the best way forward."

"Why the change of heart?"

"The most significant reason for me setting myself against you was to escape Hecate's prophecy. Having.. been given an alternative escape, the only reason I have left to fight you would be pride and I'm too proud to allow myself to be defined by my relationship to someone else."

Diana looks decidedly uncertain about what she's hearing, her eyes moving to me in suspicion. "Grayven's awakening process."

"Yes. I thought that… Meeting with you before undergoing that would serve to draw a line under our adversarial relationship. Certainly, one way or another I'm not going to want to fight you any longer."

Diana shakes her head slightly. "That isn't the only reason. You still have about a hundred people enslaved on your island. I'm not going to simply pretend that they don't exist."

"They're free to go." Circe actually sags slightly as she says it. "I have already returned the more recent ones to their Human forms. I even.. sent them back to their homes, or, well, close by at least. With a compensation payment."

And wasn't persuading her to do that a mission.

"But the older ones, the ones who have been like that for more than a mortal span… They're… Stuck. But they're free as well. Would they be welcome on Themyscira?"

Diana nods. "I will speak to my mother. But I believe so, at least on one of the smaller islands."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll be.. staying with Grayven for a few days." Circe stands with an imperious motion and I put a fifty dollar note on a plate in the middle of the table. "Send word when you have news."

"I will. And… Circe." Circe ceases turning away and glances back with her eyebrows raised. "I'm glad that you're doing this."

"Yes, I'm sure that you are. Grayven?"

I come to my feet, turn away from Diana and open a boom tube back to Miss Shimmer's heavy duty research laboratories. Miss Shimmer more or less threw us out this afternoon after giving up on politely trying to dissuade Circe from poking her machinery. She may have gotten a wee bit possessive, but she's got cause. She designed and built most of these machines herself. Circe seemed to find everything here fascinating, though whether that was simply displacement activity or a genuine concern that the machines are going to be used against her in some fashion I'm not sure.

Circe walks though first, heading towards the prepared centre of the ritual space. I walk through after her, letting the tube close behind me as Miss Shimmer makes final adjustments to a rather complex thaumic resonation monitor control system. She's still interested in attaining Alicornhood and hopes to get some good readings from the process of deconstructing and reconstructing a demigoddess.

"We about ready over here?"

Miss Shimmer turns away from her device, flickering lights reflecting off her goggles in a slightly unsettling way. "I've been ready for days."

Circe scowls at her, but her heart's not in it. "I-. Yes. Yes, I'm ready."

"Good show." I take my orange ring off my left ring finger and put it into an equipment pouch. "Since you're clearly still worried about this, I'll be using the yellow ring. Give Hecate the bad news whenever you're ready."

"And this..?" Her eyes move swiftly over the machinery, over Miss Shimmer and then back to me. "It will take moments?"

"A heartbeat. You probably won't even be aware of it." She still hesitates. "Circe, this is why you are here. A chance for a life free of fear. You've spoken to my employees and you've checked the mechanisms that will be employed. Either you're ready now, or… This is it. You'll feel this fear permanently until your fear is finally realised."

She nods. "I will… Need a moment."

I settle slightly as she begins muttering to herself. I appreciate that this is a big step, but she's had all week to get her head around the idea. This is why I'm using the Sinestro.

"Ah-!"

Pink mist rises a little from Circe's skin before being viciously pulled towards the floor! Miss Shimmer's machinery chatters wildly while Circe stares at me in horror! Various sigils form momentarily on the ground as the mist pools briefly on the floor before… Apparently being pulled down and vanishing. Circe jerks as the rate of transfer increases and her body starts to wither, her skin wrinkling and eyes dimming.

Okay, that's my cue. "Sinestro, rejuvenate. Aim for the mid-thirties."

"Small problem with that, Corpsman." Three thick streams of yellow energy reach out but struggle to pierce the mist. "Perhaps you shouldn't have spoken of your intent where Hecate could hear it?"

Circe realises that there's a problem as her flesh shrivels and she collapses to the ground. She gapes at me, desperation clear on her face, unable to form words properly.

Sinestro!

She is immortal, Corpsman. But with your own fears fully engaged… The streams of energy glow brighter, punching through this mist and connecting with Circe. Golden lights shimmer under her skin as the withering ceases and slightly reverses. I-. No, hold onto the fear, the cold sickening sensation flowing from the idea that I might have just killed a highly valuable ally.

Keep feeling it.

Circe's skin is in a state of flux, healthy one moment and wizened the next. She's not saying anything, but she appears to at least be a little more aware of her environment than she was a moment ago. She gasps and attempts to stagger to her feet before another pink mist ejection sends her crashing chest-first onto the floor. This collapse appears to be the trigger for the final surge, her whole body pinking over for a moment and severing my no! I WILL NOT BE DENIED!

The mist finally vanishes and the yellow light surges in to replace it, lifting Circe to her feet and… Making good on the repairs. She wobbles and I step forward to offer her my hands with which to steady herself.

"Circe?" She pants as she grips my hands for dear life. "Circe? Are you with us?"

"I feel… Hollow. But… Yes. Yes!" She beams at me. "I'm f-finally… Finally free!"

"Are you ready for the next stage, or would you rather remain mortal for a spa-?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She pulls her hands back and readies herself. "The sooner I gain your empowerment, the sooner I become-"

I reach forward and tap her lightly on the forehead. "Awaken."

"Ping."

"-a goddess agai-. Was that it?"

"The process itself doesn't grant you power, it merely makes-."

"Yes, yes. You said." She looks away for a moment. "And the best way for me to regain my power quickly is to use your mana infusion chamber, correct?"

8th September
21:14 GMT -6

I gently push open the door to Lynne's bedroom and stick my head around the opening. "Poppet? Are you asleep?"

"U-uh? Dad?"

"I'm sorry I didn't read to you. Circe just turned up, and then.-" I push the door open further and come fully into the r-. Mortalla next to her bed, a guilty expression on her face and.. The Ship of Adventure held in her right hand.

"That's okay, Dad. Grandma read it instead."

"I-I'm sorry if I overstepped bounds, but you-."

"You did exactly what I wanted you to do." I smile at the poor woman in an attempt to reassure her. "Of course that's perfectly fine."

"See?" Lynne shuffles around in bed to look at Mortalla. "I told you it was the right thing to do."

"Mother, the system is that Lynne goes to bed at nine and gets a chapter read to her. I make an effort to be here, but that isn't always possible. You're family." I consider that statement for a moment. "Whom we actually like. Lynne poppet, you're happy with Grandma Mortalla reading to you, aren't you?"

"Yes, Dad."

I smile at Mortalla. "See?"

"Then…" She looks nervous, but a little more confident than she was a moment ago. "I had just finished the chapter. I will leave you to say goodnight." She starts to walk around the bed, then freezes. "If.. you do not object..?"

I smile, nod my head and motion to the door before approaching Lynne's bed and sitting down on the floor. Mortalla risks a small smile in return before heading out of the room.

"Good day at school?"

"It was okay. I… Think I made a friend?"

"Sounds like progress. What's his or her name?"

"Her name's Imra. She's starting school this year too." She wriggles around to face me. "Dad, how common are telepaths? You know, Human ones?"

"Pretty uncommon. I don't have the precise figures, but I don't think there are a hundred worth talking about in the United States. And maybe a couple of them in your league. Why do you ask?"

"Um." Eyes drifting away. She's.. about to lie to me. Wonderful! She's not so dependent that she's unwilling to act like a teenager! "No reason. I just wondered."

"Okay. Well, because it's hard for them to get training, and because until recently psychiatrists weren't trained to differentiate between early manifestation telepathy and schizophrenia, there aren't really any reliable figures. I only have rough numbers because I looked into it myself." I lean back slightly and look away from her face. "If you.. did encounter a telepath, it might be a good idea for you to mention the Centre to them. Some of the things that happen when they don't get training-."

"I didn't say I'd met a telepath."

"And I didn't say that you'd said that you'd met a telepath."

She glares at me. "Dad!"

I snigger, then stand and lean forward to kiss Lynne on the forehead. "Goodnight Lynne. Sweet dreams."

"'night Dad."

I turn away and exit the room, the sound of Lynne's quiet breathing in my ears as I gently shut the door. That was a little surprising, but I am pleased. And not just because there's someone I can hand reading duties over to; Lynne accepting someone else in that sort of situation is a sign of just how far she's progressed, and Mortalla actually doing something without specific authorisation means that my worse case scenarios for her rehabilitation can remain purely theoretical. Lynne coping with a wider variety of social interactions is a pretty good sign as well.

Right. I'm up in six hours to sort things out in the Netherlands before everyone arrives. Bed time for me as well. In fact, Mother Box?

Ping?

Hush tube.

Ping.

I step through it and push open my door. It'll be nice to-.

Knockout is lying on my bed, facing the door.

I blink, slowly. "Did you get lost on your way to your room?"

"No."

"Because this is.. my room. Your status is now such that you aren't expected to share. Your room is-" I step back into the doorway. "-that w-."

The door slams into my face! I'm not really hurt, but it was so unexpected that I'm not up to speed as the door is shoved aside and Knockout surges out, knocking me back into the wall behind me with a shoulder charge and then bringing her right fist up under my chin! I get my left arm in the way, absorbing her blow with a small wince before my right hand shoots out and seizes her around the neck and slams her against the opposite wall!

Like me, she's far too tough to actually be injured by the impact, but I use her momentary disorientation to squeeze her throat while I pull her back and slam her into it again. This time I'm braced and this time concrete is pulverised and fractured by the force I employ!

I then wait, hand still around her neck, for her to regain her senses.

"What was that in aid of?" "You DARE raise your hand to ME!?"

"Thought-. You were-. Soft. One who hides-." I squeeze a little to remind her that she's winding up the wrong New God right now. "Hides behind others."

"What? Because I can hold a civil conversation? Because I have retainers who don't live in terror of me?" But okay, if she likes the traditional Apokoliptian style so much… I pull back my hand and slam her into the concrete again. This time it fractures the whole way through, metal mesh keeping the fragments more or less in shape as a section the size of my fist crumbles through on the far side. "Please do not assume that simply because brutal violence is not my first recourse that I am in some way incapable of utilising it." I pull her towards me slightly and loosen my grip a little. "Is that it? Was there some other reason for this visit?"

She blinks, trying to clear the concrete dust from her eyes. "Granny said that I caught your eye. I would not mate with a man who did not know how to fight. But I like a man who does."

Oh. Ew.

"Why would I-? No, I don't want to mate with you." And that's when it comes to my attention that she's only wearing her boots and gloves. Huh. No, irrelevant. "I didn't bring you here because I wanted a concubine. Your skills as a warrior are what impressed me. It is those skills which I wish you to utilise on my behalf." I turn in the direction of her room, raise my right hand and open it, depositing her on the floor. "Now go. I would have said 'please don't do this again'. However, since you don't appear to understand basic courtesy…"

I step forward and kick with my right foot, catching her in the chest and sending her flying down the corridor and into the far wall hard enough to crack that as well.

I wait a moment for her to look up. Then I smile politely.

"Please don't do this again."

8th September
19:57 GMT

I know… That I shouldn't be totally surprised. Standard pattern humanoids are standard pattern humanoids. It's a universal shape which comes with a wide variety of standardised features. There are exceptions, obviously, and social factors can vary wildly-.

The point is, patriarchy is not unique to Humans. Humanoid men are generally stronger than humanoid women wherever you go. It's part of the role-specialisation. This often -not always, but it does happen in far more places than the reverse- results in societies being male-dominated. If one group is where most of the war-fighters are coming from, that group are going to end up disproportionately in positions of authority. I don't think that it's 'good' or 'proper', but that's how it tends to go. And greater strength has advantages in other areas as well; pre-industrial farming and metalwork, for instance. That advantage largely disappears once heavy automated machinery starts providing most of the physical force, but by then the idea of 'male's work' and 'female's work' has set in…

Patriarchy happens. But it doesn't usually result in a continent of women having their eyes gouged out.

"Who's there?"

The mistress of the house doesn't wear a blindfold. Those are forbidden, as they might conceal eyes that hadn't been removed. And since they're removed with hooked knives with no anaesthetic-.

I'm very glad that enlightenment means that my rings aren't shutting down because I don't remember being this angry since I read Handmaiden's Tale. I like structure and as a result nothing gets to me quite like tyranny enthroned to the point where people think it's normal.

"Jerrd?"

"No."

She doesn't have a cane to help her get around. She's well into middle age, and I'm sure that she knows the structure of her own home far too well to need one.

"Who-?"

"I suppose you could say that I heard your prayers. Your eldest daughter was taken to the temple today, wasn't she?"

She shudders, then falls to her knees. Why-? No. No! "My Lord, I am sorry for my wick-"

"No." I land in front of her and place my right hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"-edness, but Taranna loves to paint and-."

"Stop." When I am confronted by the evils of the universe, I will rejoice. F-for when I am done, there will be one less. I know that the point of this is to motivate others, but in this case it's bloody hard not to deal with the situation myself. "I am not your god, or its servant. I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps, and I heard your need." I move my left hand to her left and pull, encouraging her to rise. "Why do you beg forgiveness for hating something you know to be wrong?"

"Because I shouldn't feel like this. It should happen, it needs to happen. All girls go through it-."

"The fact that something is common does not make it right." I look a little deeper into her. I see a younger version of the young woman I arrived on this fetid planet just a little late to save from going under the knife leading her mother over to a flower bed and describing them to her. "You know this is wrong."

"I-if she could be spared-."

"What's so special about her? What makes her pain different from the pain of any other girl? Yours, from any other mother forced to stand by while the Temple of Unseeing does its work?"

"I… Nothing, I'm not important, but Taranna doesn't need to-."

"It's too late." But that was a colour I can use. "She's already being led away into the-."

"No!"

The 'o' sounds like a yelp. Shame, fear, all useless.

"Do you think that's right?"

She's breathing quickly, water seeping from her tear ducts… Stress, no use to me. Come on, I felt you!

"What you feel now is the same as how your own mother would have felt. And her mother, and her mother before her. And in time, what your own daughter will feel." I lean closer. "What do you want?"

"I-. I…"

"I came here to help you realise your desires. But I can't do that if you won't tell me what they are. Not 'won't someone rescue my daughter', that wasn't what I heard. Tell me." Her mouth tremors, no words coming out. "You know what I'm asking. You're thinking it but you're not saying it. What do you want?"

"I want every bastard member of the priesthood dead. I don't want any girl to go through the Rite of Unseeing ever again."

"Coutara eh'Jerrd of Space Sector Four Nine Five." I step back as the ring I brought for her approaches her. "You have a great need in your heart. Join the Orange Lantern Corps, and see it realised."

I'm still not totally happy with the introductory spiel, but at least it's better than the version Dox suggested. Far too wordy.

Her breathing slows, her shoulders square and her back straightens. "You will help me?"

"That is this ring's function."

Doubt gone, Coutara reaches out with her right hand. "I want that."

The ring leaps onto her middle finger, shattering the grey stone ring that was there already before coming to rest.

"Lantern Coutara, welcome to the Orange Lantern Corps."

A wave of orange light runs through her smock and loose-fitting trousers, adding orange highlights. Hm. I'll need to talk to her about armour at some point-. Her head jerks around to face me, orange light flaring from her eye sockets.

"This ring has made me strong enough to kill them?"

"It's not all about physical strength, but none of their defences should slow you down all that much."

She bends her legs slightly, as if to leap into the air. Then she stops herself. "And what happens then?"

"In what regard?"

"To me, to my daughter, to… Everyone else. I can't just… Tear everything apart, and… Let our civilisation collapse."

I smile at her mindfulness. So many people would just leap right in… "Yes you can and yes you could. When a civilisation is this fundamentally disordered, tearing it down and starting again is a perfectly valid thing to do. But since you ask, I am prepared to offer sanctuary to you, your daughter and anyone else needing rescue. Furthermore, I am prepared to assign Lanterns to keep an eye on your country until things stabilise." Komand'r and Koriand'r in this case. Try gouging their eyes out, you living shits. "Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes." Her environmental shield flares. "Perfectly."

9th September
09:28 GMT +1

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Nearly time. Nearly time. I'll have my own Elite. True equals, not near-subordinates.

The monitor and cameras which Lex will be using to join in are all set up. Sunset created a few basic wards with pure magic and I added a few with Apokoliptian technology.

Ping.

Fine, we added a few with Apokoliptian technology. I'll have to strip it out once we're finished, but that's a simple enough affair. The seats are arranged in an arc, those of our invitees pointing in the direction of the main monitor, which I'll be using for my presentation. I was a little worried that we'd be a man short until yesterday, but I was eventually able to persuade the relevant authorities that I could order Adom's temporary release. Once this is done, he will technically be under house arrest at my house. Which is a pretty handy outcome for me, actually. Ah, glasses of water, air conditioning… Reasonable… I think we're good.

I turn and head through the doors into the antechamber, Knockout's fists balling excitedly as she sees me. "My Lord. Let me demonstrate-." "Fight!"

"Calm yourself, Knockout. This is a social event." "A bodyguard should be seen and not heard."

After our confrontation last night she's been far more eager to please me in the performance of her duties. I took advantage to compel her to change her 'costume'. Her.. green swimsuit was barely acceptable, but now that I've had time I've had her replace it with decent body armour. And a mana infuser. Heh. She didn't seem all that convinced about the armour but that thing is New God catnip. She's still been getting a few admiring looks from the staff here, but hasn't condescended to notice any of them. I don't think that she totally understands what a hotel is, but she appears to have pegged the staff as well-disciplined House Lowlies.

"But I do have a task for you."

"Someone to kill?" "Fight!"

"Knockout, if I wanted a mad dog I'd have hired someone local. I need you to take the measure of the retinues the others bring. The image they're trying to portray."

"How easy they will be to kill." "Fight!"

"Worth knowing, but not a priority. And before you complain further, I've scheduled your sparring session with Orana for Saturday. And if you really can't manage until then I'm sure that Adom will be happy to oblige you."

She nods, reluctantly. "And Barda?" "Fight!"

"I want to be more certain of your self discipline before I even tell her that you're on Earth. I brought you here to guard my daughter, not rampage at will."

"But-." "Fig-!"

"That's enough, Knockout." You Will Obey Me!

She shudders, her mouth working but no sound emerging. Then she smiles, bows her head slightly and steps back. Ugh, she's going to be like this all of the time, isn't she? Tiresome. I mean, if I had normal Apokoliptian attitudes it wouldn't be a problem, but I'm used to Human ways of interacting. Perhaps I could offer her services as a training aid to Komand'r? The princesses are skilled, but super strength combat has its own rules…

Mortalla rises from her chair as I approach, smoothing down her skirt and shuffling a little in place. It's going to be a little while before she's convinced that she's safe here, but I'm going to keep working on it. "And Mother, I would appreciate it if you could observe all other aspects of their behaviour. Family is.. important here. You will be acting in my stead." "You have my faith."

"I…" For a moment she looks a little lost. Then she nods and manages a weak smile. "Of course."

"Then all is in readiness. Mother Box?"

"Ping."

The disdainful sound-

"Ploong."

-from Mortalla's Father Box is drowned out by the sound of the boom tube opening to Aberrance. A brief moment passes, then Otto steps through with Cranius perched on the top of his spine. He looks around, then grins at me. "Grayven, my boy!"

I smile, stepping forward to shake Otto's hand. "Doctor Cranius. Thank you for joining us."

Niko steps through next, her missing arm earning a frown from Knockout. Of course, anyone with such a visible sign of weakness would swiftly be dead meat on Apokolips. Which to Knockout's way of thinking means that either Niko's so powerful that it doesn't matter, or Cranius is so powerful that his servants can afford to advertise vulnerability.

I nod to her. "May I present-."

"Hey, Gravy! Wassaaap, man!"

I just about manage to prevent myself wincing as The Face walks in behind the people I actually wanted here. Oh, why couldn't Cranius have broken him up for parts by now? "Mister The Face." I turn aside, allowing them to get a clear look at my own entourage. "May I present my mother, Mortalla." Cranius gives her a small nod, but I can tell that he's frowning inside. Trying to work out why her skin is white, and what other augmentations she might have. Niko smiles, her eyes moving to me for a moment. What, didn't she think that I had antecedents?

It's not hard to work out why The Face is leering.

"And my bodyguard, Knockout. Today she's here for your protection as much as mine."

Knockout's size and musculature make her speciality more obvious to a casual observer. Another nod from Cranius. "I am certain zhet we are in good hands. Are.. we.. zhe first to arrive?"

"Yes, but unless you're bringing anyone else I'll redirect the boom tube and bring our second guest here now."

Cranius leads his party away a few paces, then turns around with an air of considerable interest. "I am most fascinated to see whom it is zhet we will be doing business wizh."

"Ping."

The boom tube aperture collapses and then reopens with a double-bang. We wait a moment, then Adom floats through under his own power. Unlike what I had assumed, he wasn't interested in wearing a variant of Theodore's costume. In fact, he was quite definite that he didn't want to 'wear the Wizard's lightning bolt' at all. Instead, he's wearing a white sherwani with gold embroidery and loose cream trousers. I was surprised by his choice, but I suppose that there's a definite advantage to having a clear visual distinction between him and Theodore.

His gaze passes briefly over everyone so far assembled before settling on me, only The Face earning a mild frown of puzzlement. He lowers himself in the air slightly so that he's only centimetres above the carpeted floor.

"Lord Grayven."

"Teth Adom. Thank you for joining us." I offer him my right hand. He in turn reaches out with his right arm and wraps his hand around my forearm. Well, as much as he can given the size difference between us. I mirror the gesture, though I'm careful not to over-grip. He's grateful for my help, but we're not yet so close that he'd be prepared to ignore a significant breach of propriety on my part.

A moment passes and we separate, me turning aside to introduce the group. "This is Doctor Cranius, who will be taking part in discussions with us."

"Doctor Cranius."

A little tricky. The form of Ancient Kahndaqi which Adom speaks doesn't have a word for 'bio-engineer'. And its word for 'doctor' doesn't quite have the same connotations which the English word does. Still, we can clear up exactly what everyone brings to the table during the meeting proper.

"Mister Teth Adom."

"His aides, Niko Parish and The Face."

His eyes linger on Niko's wings for a moment, but his only formal response is a nod.

"My mother, the lady Mortalla. And my bodyguard, Knockout."

Knockout is looking at Teth Adom with undisguised interest while he seems less interested in her. To Mortalla on the other hand he lands and reaches out to take her left hand-.

"No!" I intercept him just before he touches it. He looks decidedly put out by my behaviour. "I'm sorry, but it amused Father to bind spells to her hands. The left one kills people. I'm not certain that it would work on you, but it would be an unfortunate way to start a meeting."

He nods, satisfied. "I see. I thank you for your warning. What does the right do?"

"It-." Mortalla responds, then clams up, looking to me for approval. I smile and nod. "It induces sleep."

Teth Adom takes that hand instead, kissing her knuckles to no apparent ill effect. Mortalla smiles a little confusedly. "My lady."

"My lord."

Mother Box, next boom tube.

9th September
09:35 GMT +1

Lord Cyprian comes through first, barely reacting to the dryness of his new environment. He's a Pureblood Atlantean man in his late fifties, greying shoulder length hair swept back with some sort of styling product that makes it look constantly wet. He's wearing the knee-length breeches and decorative jewellery common among the Venturian nobility, though I know for a fact that as well as being a capable administrator he is also a capable magic user. The jewellery is almost certainly enchanted, though it would be gauche of me to blatantly check it out now. His bare chest is fairly well muscled for a man of his age, and there are a couple of scars visible on his right side.

Queen Clea walks through next, her own clothing somewhat more modest but also more regal. She's wearing a small diadem rather than the full crown of state she would wear when taking an audience or the helm she used to wear while in combat. Four soldiers follow her through, three Purebloods and one Eelfolk. The Eelman has an enchanted pendant which connects to his gills with a glowing line of water, but he still winces as he comes into contact with the air.

I give Queen Clea a shallow bow. "Your majesty. May I present our colleagues Teth Adom and Doctor Cranius."

Cranius can't really bow while mounted on Otto, but he manages a nod. "I understand zhet I heff you to zhank for my supply of thaumaturgical literature."

"Are you a sorcerer, Doctor Cranius?"

"It would be more true to say zhet I am zhe product-" He stands on the tips of his fingers. "-of sorcery. I study biomancy by necessity as well as for pleasure."

"I imagine that is an area where we might profitably-" She looks askance at The Face for a moment. Fortunately he's distracted by Mortalla. "-cooperate further, Doctor. And Teth Adom."

"Your majesty. During my former life I had a productive working relationship with an Atlantean queen. I hope that our relationship will be similarly beneficial."

"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows slightly. "Who was she?"

"Queen Gamemnae of Poseidonis." Queen Clea twitches as she recognises the name. Wonder who she was? "We were allies for several decades."

"Yes… That would be useful."

Hm. If Queen Gamemnae is known in Atlantean society even after all of this time, they may also have records of Teth Adom himself. Might be worth looking up.

"If the three of you would like to follow me..?" I turn away, the three of them walking alongside me as we head into the meeting room.

Clea takes a moment to look over the rest of us. "It seems that we're a little short?"

I nod. "Alas, one of those I had intended on inviting had died during my time away from Earth. The two others who will be appearing in person insisted that they could make their own way here-."

Shadows pool in the far corner of the room, then Mister Swift marches out of them as if climbing a staircase. "A wizard is never early or late, Mister Grayven. He arrives exactly when he means to." He reaches up to the brim of his top hat with his right hand and raises it slightly. "Your majesty, my lord, doctor."

I send a filament behind us and close the doors with it, before heading towards the monitor. "Presenting Mister Richard Swift, also known as the Shade."

He holds his hands out to the sides. And then another set of hands made of shadows. "For reasons which I think are quite self-explanatory."

"If you'd all like to take your seats, we should be able to begin once our last but one guest has realised that she is now fashionably-" Circe wafts into being, sections of her body appearing as if emerging from behind some invisible fabric that is being gradually tugged away. "-late." She's nothing like at full power, but apparently this little trick isn't too power-intensive.

"Circe!"

Queen Clea walks towards her old comrade, arms outstretched. Circe takes a barely noticeable moment to work out who Clea is, then smiles at her in turn. "Clea, darling! You're looking simply marvellous!"

They embrace, kissing one another on each cheek before pulling back slightly.

"I'm looking like an old woman. I know it full well."

Mister Swift smiles at the assemblage before having his shadows pull out a chair for him and dropping into it. "Is the gang all here?"

I nod. "Nearly." I flip a switch on the monitor, and Lex's avatar appears on the screen. "Our last colleague is unable to attend in person."

Cranius takes a seat near the opposite end of the arc from Mister Swift. "And we are not to see zhis person's face?"

"I apologise for the deception, Doctor." Lex's synthetic voice is as flawless as it is impossible to recognise as being his. It helps that he's speaking French rather than English and letting the computer handle the translation. "But I cannot afford to allow knowledge of my participation to become widely known. I have all too many enemies who would work against anything we produce were the fact that I have any input into its creation to become widely known."

Mister Swift lounges back slightly. "Or we could just work it out ourselves."

"Acceptable." Adom takes the seat on the far end, between Cranius and the door. "For now."

Walking past Clea, Circe takes the middle seat and leaves her old friend with the chair between herself and Mister Swift.

I smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I asked you all here today because I have a problem, and I believe that each of you could help me solve it. Essentially, my problem is that the Human species isn't living up to its potential. And despite the fact that I'm an alien, that's a problem for me because my father-" I put a life size image of him up on the monitor. "-is working on a plan to mind control the universe and I rather need to stop him. To do that I need weapons, technology, powerful warriors, all things that Earth has, but doesn't have in sufficient quantity. So: I need to improve Human civilisation. And to be completely clear, I don't mean by conquering it. The economic systems which I need are more or less in place. I merely need to ensure that certain things which are not currently happening start happening."

"Despite living on what is probably the most magic-rich world in the universe, ninety nine percent of Humans have never used magic and about thirty percent don't actually believe that it's real. Despite reliable Human augmentation having existed since before Atlantis sank, most Humans are little different biologically from the primitive ape-men who left East Africa three hundred thousand years ago. Despite having tried every form of government I know of, vast numbers of people live under corrupt and inefficient governments more interested in building palaces than roads, more interested in inflating their rulers' bank accounts than their nation's GDP. In other circumstances I might shrug it off. What does the stupidity of aliens mean to me? But with the threat of my father hanging over me, I need them, I need Human ingenuity and ferocity."

"I don't need Human stupidity."

"So here's what I want us to do. I want us to fix that and enrich ourselves doing so. And I'm willing to offer you whatever it is that you want if you'll help me." I look around. "Doctor, you want more people to use the augmentations you create. I've already been helping you with that, but we can always do more. Particularly-" I move my hand to indicate Queen Clea. "-with the aid of Atlantean biomancers. While you, Queen Clea, want more political independence and to avoid having to fight over your succession. A simple fix; I can extend your lifespan and build profitable bridges between yourself and various interested surface world groups. If you're doing what King Orin wants anyway, then he won't interfere. Particularly if no one else is. Circe, you've already received my aid. Would you agree that it will make your life considerably more pleasant?"

"It.. will."

"I can also ease your passage to the renown which you want, though you would have to put in a good deal of work yourself."

She tilts her head back, narrowing her eyes slightly. "How?"

"You would found a school and start teaching surface people magic. As more and more people become trained in sorcery they would know that the teacher of their teachers was you, that their entire magic tradition flowed from you as the traditions of Atlantis flow from Ahri'Ahn. And naturally, the governments of the world would call upon you to consult when faced with a question on magic. Teaching staff Queen Clea can provide… And I could locate one or two myself on the surface. You would probably have to use a false identity, at least at the start. But that's nothing you haven't done before."

"Me, a teacher?"

"A headmistress."

She smiles. "That is an interesting suggestion."

"Teth Adom. I've been dodging your questions about how Kahndaq is governed in the present day because I don't want you to fly into a rage. It's… Bad. I'll give you the full details after the meeting. But naturally, I'm sure that you'll want to change that. I have political good will in just about everywhere, and-." I gesture to the screen. "-my colleague has the economic infrastructure. But Kahndaq would just be the first country that needs some careful, considered and vicious regime change. Humanity deserves better than having myopic thieves in suits as its rulers."

Mister Swift purses his lips. "And what of me, and your good friend 'The Screen'? I'm happier with my life now than I've been for centuries. And he already has a SCART lead."

"I believe that the existence of the Justice League is exacerbating the problem Human society is experiencing. However, I do recognise that they are presently near-indispensable as far as protecting the Earth is concerned. If all goes well, we will eventually render them obsolete, but for now they must survive."

I stare him straight in the eyes. "So it would be most convenient if the most powerful superhero on the Earth were to join them."

9th September
09:40 GMT +1

Mister Swift smiles with his mouth slightly open, as if he were about to speak but is so entranced with the idea that he can't quite shape the words.

Teth Adom turns to look at Mister Swift. "'Most powerful'?"

Mister Swift shrugs. "One doesn't like to blow one's own trumpet… But I'd say so. Particularly with Mister Culp removed from the equation and the Great Darkness gone on its merry way."

"I will concede that you have some power. You manipulate shadows with a greater skill than I have seen before." Adom shakes his head. "But I have seen many great and powerful beings. What proof do you have that you stand so far above them?"

Mister Swift merely smiles, and raises his cane.

Then every light in the room dies and every surface turns black. I raise my right hand, orange light texturing the darkness just enough to pick out the edges of the walls. And then.. the edges become indistinct, fading away as the primordial blackness becomes at once nebulous and solid, my rings' own light visibly weakening…

And then the sheer black peels away, revealing a desolate greyscale landscape of bare earth and stones. The only hint of life I can see is a small copse of apparently dead trees, their bent and wizened trunks completely bereft of leaves. And the only light… I look up at the starless sky, wondering what light illuminates a place like this.

There's a… Hole… In the black sky. And along its circular boundary I can see flickers of light-.

I look down instead.

"The Shadowlands?" Circe nods in realisation, putting her elbows on the table and resting her head on her hands as she leans towards him. "A risky proposition."

"Oh, I know. Staring the Great Darkness in the eye… Such as it had, drove me quite peculiar on the first occasion. And whenever I went back I felt that I was as a mouse treading none too carefully around the lair of some great and malevolent beast. Which gives me far too much credit; I was far less than a mouse to such an entity. But, no longer. It is gone and…" He indicates the landscape with the head of his cane. "I am master of my own estate."

"Mister Swift." I indicate the Shadowlands with my right hand. "Would you mind..?"

"Ah, of course." He taps his cane against the sandy ground, shadows rising up around us and flowing in his direction, seemingly being sucked back into it. The landscape is only obscured for moments, but in the shadow's wake only our meeting room remains. "Your pardon, dear comrades. I did not mean to alarm you." He returns his attention to me. "But the Justice League. I am intrigued. How do you intend to make that happen? When last I checked, you weren't a member."

"No, but my brother and sister-in-law are. And I believe that you know Wonder Woman?"

"Yes, as do two of my esteemed colleagues." He glances at Clea and Circe. "And in much the same fashion. I don't think that I could expect a reference."

"Tell me, Mister Swift: does keeping Opal City safe require a significant proportion of your full power?"

He scoffs. "Pff. Hardly. I live there because I like it, not because it's part of my exercise regime."

"And if you were to exert yourself a little more? Could you develop a national presence? Perhaps..? A global presence?"

"I… Could…"

"Combine that with formally burying the hatchet with-." Ugh. "With the surviving Justice Society members, perhaps offering an explanation for your actions? You were working as a superhero even while possessed by a malevolent super dwarf. You're not a particularly bad fit anyway. They just need to be reminded that you exist."

"Hahahaha!" Mister Swift tosses his head back as he laughs in what sounds like a good-humoured way. "Oh my word. And what precisely would I be doing as this august assemblage's 'man on the inside'?"

"You would be making sure that they stay alive. As a beacon of heroism they're useful, as long as they're an example people are actively following rather than one to whom they are passing the buck."

He regards me for a moment, his head tilting slightly to the right. "You know what? The idea tickles me so-. Yes. Yes, I'll do it. I'll campaign as an unstoppable scourge of the underworld until the League let me in. Why not? I'm sure that the change of pace will do me the world of good. Hahaha! Oh, what a time to be alive!" He sort of flops to his right. "And you, your majesty? Will you be joining us?"

Queen Clea looks cautious, though whether that's because of the temptation I'm providing or the presence of the shadow god next to her I'm not certain. "Extend my lifespan to what degree?"

"You are aware that great magic users gain dramatically extended life spans due to their expanded metaphysiques?" She nods. "I can… Shall we say, remove the limiters on your spirit. Grant you the benefits without anything like the work. I've already tested the process; it's safe and reliable. Several of my colleagues already use it… Including Circe." Clea frowns at her and gets a shallow nod in return. "And if you want an immediate rejuvenation…" I raise my hands, displaying my power rings. "I can do that as well."

"And this airport? How do you intend to make that happen?"

"A little while ago an alliance of supervillains calling themselves 'The Light' did some rather unfortunate things. Most of them died, but one of them -a man named Lex Luthor- was an apparently legitimate citizen. President Horne felt that simply killing him would be setting a bad precedent." Heh. "And there were any number of ways Mister Luthor could have dodged criminal conviction. As such, he was told that he could either keep himself squeaky-clean from now on… Or he could mysteriously disembowel himself while shaving, if you get my drift. And I'm his parole officer, which means that I basically own the third richest man on the planet. Arm-twisting him into building an airport won't even be hard."

Not much point in not telling them who the monitor is if LexAir start flying flights to an airport built by LexConstruction. Not unless there's some other explanation.

"And I know that you've had your man Mister Valjek checking out potential trade opportunities. What is it you're most interested in?"

She looks at me. I think that she's making her decision-.

"Gold. High purity. Other metals too, but gold most of all. And I will agree to participate. Though I will want to see-" I start walking towards her. "-some evidence that-." She frowns as I approach. "What is it?"

"You want proof? I can augment you now. Do you want to be restored to your prime, or merely to early old age? A more subtle approach has its advantages, but then so does full physical fitness."

She sits up slightly, blinking. "And what do you want now in return?"

I grin. "Nothing! At worst, I help Atlantis avoid a distracting internal conflict. At best, you feel grateful enough to become an active participant in my project. Either way, I benefit." I look around. "This isn't a zero-sum game, a grudging trade between people who can barely keep their paranoia in check for long enough to have a conversation. This is to be an alliance serving our shared interests. Not merely can we all win, but the whole of the world can as well. Though obviously… We win by most."

She nods, pushing back her chair and standing. "Mild rejuvenation. If our alliance is supposed to be at least somewhat covert, it might be best if I didn't suddenly change my appearance."

"Very well." In the corner of my eye I see Circe watching with unconcealed interest as I gently reach for Clea's forehead with my right hand. "Please focus your mind on your fear of your nation collapsing and it all being your fault."

"Hm." She closes her eyes for a moment. "There's always a.. price, isn't there?"

Sinestro, Mother Box, we need to be somewhat precise here.

We can manage, Corpsman.

Ping.

Well, aren't you the overachiever?

"Rejuvenate."

Yellow light flows though her body, and the changes… Are subtle. Her skin smoothes a little, a small amount of colour returns to her hair, though the dominant colour is still white. Her muscle tone improves slightly… Good work, both of you. Now Awaken!

Ping.

Queen Clea's eyes snap open, and she staggers back a step. "I felt that. Is that-." She holds out her hands, studying her own skin. "Ooh."

I take out a bracelet-type mana infuser. "Wear this as much as possible. It will speed up the process."

She breathes in, regaining her composure. Then she takes the infuser and sits without putting it on. "Thank you. You have my consent to send your man Luthor to speak with Lord Cyprian. He will oversee the work on my behalf. And…" She turns her head to Circe. "Will you be requiring a teaching staff?"

Circe looks down for a moment, but that hunger makes it all too obvious that she has decided as well.

"I do believe that I will."

9th September
09:47 GMT +1

I back off a little towards my monitor. I have detailed economic and political plans, timelines and cost/benefit analyses, but it's far more important to get agreement in principle. "Teth Adom? Is there some further reassurance you need?"

His face is impassive as he regards me. "It would seem that I do not have an alternative."

"Not at all. Your bail conditions do require that you stay with me, but I am perfectly happy to offer you the use of my home for as long as you need it without any precondition. Getting a state prosecutor to accept that you are not guilty of Theodore Adam's crimes might take a couple of months, and then you would be a free man. In fact-" I take a deliberate step away from the door and pointedly look at it. "-you could choose to leave this very minute if you wanted. I am not bound to pursue you."

"I will not sneak out like a guilty thief."

"Well.. then… If it's me you're objecting to, I can probably talk a member of the Justice League into putting you up. William Batson owes me a favour for saving his life after he lost a fight with Sabbac."

"Who is that?"

"Sabbac was a demonically-empowered champion of Hell. I decapitated him."

"No. William Batson."

"The wizard Shazam's new champion." Teth Adom's hands clench through the table. "He's a good kid, as are his two similarly empowered friends."

"The Wizard-!" Something occurs to him. "Kid?"

"Yes, he's eleven. Frederick and Mary are still ten."

Mister Swift frowns. "You're certain? That.. seems a little-."

"The Wizard uses children?!"

I nod. "Yes, he does and yes, I'm certain. I think he said it was something to do with William being the most moral person the Wizard could find-."

"If he claims that there was not a single adult that could match the moral intuitions of a small child then he is a liar and a monster! He chose children because they would not have the wit to challenge him!"

I nod. "That could be the case. Would you care to see to his education yourself? I could set up a meeting, but I assumed that you would want to prioritise Kahndaq."

Teth Adom takes a few deep breaths as he attempts to regain control of himself. "Yes. Yes. That should be my priority. But the Wizard betrayed me in a way which I cannot forgive. I will have my revenge against him."

"I am not going to insist you give up your vendetta, but I would point out that not only do I not share it, I don't think that killing a man who has so little to do with the world actually helps anyone. I will however help you with Kahndaq. Normalising international relations, industrial development… Anti-corruption work?"

"Why would I not simply fly to the palace of its ruler and slay him?"

Queen Clea makes a scoffing noise in her throat. "Modern states are a little more complicated than that, Teth Adom. Present day Kahndaq has a population of ninety million. Simply slaying the president would create anarchy and most likely make the situation worse still."

"Ninety.. million..?"

I huff faintly. "Adom, the fact that you didn't know that underlines my point. I'm happy to bring you up to speed, but you'll need to hold off until everything is ready. Including you. It's been a long time. You need to learn about the modern world. My Genomorphs are uniquely well equipped to help you in that regard, but, I'm not insisting."

"It-." Adom rubs the fractured wood from his palms and retakes his seat. "It would speak ill of me were I to reject your hospitality when you have made an effort to aid me. I will make a firm decision once I am better informed."

"As you will. Doctor Cranius?"

"I… I would not reject any cooperation, but… I will need to discuss matters wizh Janus unt Crassus before making a firm commitment on a broader alliance. I heff.. only so much time, and a great many demands upon it."

"Not a problem. Alright if I visit you in Aberrance on Tuesday?"

He considers for a moment. "Yes… Zhet shoult be enough time."

Queen Clea leans forward slightly so that she can look him full in the face. "And is there anything the rest of us can do to persuade you?"

Cranius smiles. "Unless you have magics for making more time, I fear that you cannot. Though if you could lend me zhe services of an Atlantean biomancer… Perhaps zhere is an efficiency saving zhet I could make?"

"There are a few people in my employ who may be of use to you. If Mister Grayven could arrange transportation?"

I nod. "But of course."

"I still-" Mister Swift jabs the head of his cane at Lex's monitor. "-want to know what the box's angle is."

"About ninety degrees."

Neither Mister Swift nor myself can prevent ourselves making a sort of gasp-laugh noise at Lex's pronouncement. Oh, there's no way he came up with that himself. No way. He can make jokes, but that sort of off the cuff witticism is not him at all. Or perhaps he used it intentionally to further separate Mister Monitor from Mister Luthor?

Mister Swift bows his head slightly. "A droll observation, but I'm curious. What do you want, and what do you bring to the table?"

"I bring information networks, and what I want is more information. At present, data relating to the most advanced forms of science and magic propagate only poorly around Earth society. I want to learn more, and I want more Humans to learn more. This gathering presents me with the opportunity to spread knowledge myself and ensure that it is spread by the actions of others. This satisfies me."

Ah! Pretending to be an AI! That makes sense. It also gives them a ready explanation for the monitor; if he doesn't have a body he couldn't 'appear' in person. And I don't think he's actually outright lied yet. Lex certainly wants knowledge of advanced technologies to spread. Just so long as he's the supplier.

"Teth Adom, I am already contacting Kahndaqi groups who may be sympathetic to your efforts with a view to assisting you in forming a government post-takeover." Adom nods. "I will contact the rest of you with data I think will be pertinent to your operations as and when I have it. Development opportunities, avenues of research and useful personnel. I have every faith that our work together will be mutually beneficial."

Mister Swift considers for a moment. "Alright, I've got one for you. What is.. Jay Garrick's favourite liquor?"

"He keeps a bottle of five year Glenmorangie whisky in his home-" And the fact that Lex knows that isn't creepy at all. "-but I'm afraid that I can't tell you-" Mister Swift sticks his left hand through a pool of shadows on the table surface and pulls out a two-thirds finished bottle of Glenmorangie whisky. He notes the 'Five Year' label and nods approvingly at the monitor. "-whether that's his actual favourite or not. I don't know everything."

Mister Swift puts the bottle back. "Reasonable enough. If there's nothing else, I'd best make a start on this 'hero' malarkey. Any suggestions on where to start?"

"Caracas in Venezuela is the most dangerous city in the world. In pure efficiency terms, that would seem like a good place to start."

"And it will give me the opportunity to brush up on my Spanish! Marvellous."

"Otherwise, there are a number of active Kobra cells that you might like to target."

"They're like serpentine piñatas! The gift that keeps on bleeding!"

I take a look around my gathered allies. "If there's nothing else?" A few shakes, and no comments to the contrary. "Let's pencil in another full meeting for a month from now. Circe, Adom? If you'd like to accompany me, I'll get you situated."

10th September
19:47 GMT

Come on come on, where is she?

Maybe it was unrealistic to expect her to come here every day, but I'm on a a deadline and I'm.. getting the impression that Dox is losing patience with me. My recruitment campaign has -within our original parameters- been quite successful. My new Lanterns have been rapidly grasping the lessons I've been teaching. Lantern Yat in particular has grasped the opportunity with both superstrong hands, even if he is.. a bit younger than I really want to recruit. I wonder if he'd like to meet Kon or Kal-El? His friend Tessog was offered the opportunity to stay on, but he was rather keen on getting back home. Understandable, and his home is sufficiently far from the border of Reach space that I doubt we could persuade them to join.

Anyway, my 'mystical' technique has produced better matches than Dox's statistical technique, as confirmed by Hinon. But it has also left me responsible for a country full of blind women with no government, to say nothing of the hundreds of refugees with no medical records. I need someone who wants to heal, and who won't get bored with it after the first dozen.

I need Soranik Natu and I can't afford to soft pedal her any longer.

It's quite unlike my previous visits to Korugar City. With my rings on (under gloves) I can hear the background voices in clear English and as such I'm ignoring them as I would any English speech, rather than compulsively focusing on each borderline nonsense phrase in an attempt to make sense of it. I'm not even trying to act like a merchant or 'recruitment agent', even though -heh- this time I am planning on recruiting someone.

Ah, if the security forces can detect power ring scans that's just too bad. Ring, where is she?

Subject found.

Thank you.

I rise from my seat, nod politely at the waitress as I leave payment -the blank precious metal coins which are the standard way for visiting merchants without local accounts to pay for things- and head for the door. Okay, she's.. at a bar over there…

In for a penny…

I step out, and then back in inside an alley next to the bar before jogging back onto the main street and entering the establishment. Probably harder to detect than a transition, and without the orange glow. Civilian teleportation isn't allowed virtually anywhere in Korugar City, though as far as I know the locals don't have the technology. Ordinarily that would mean that they probably don't have teleportation detectors, but much like 'average speed zones' back home their camera network is perfectly capable of working out that I just covered more ground than should be possible. But since I'm not planning on coming back, there's no need to avoid committing crimes if their detection would require significant time.

I head towards her table as soon as I'm inside. She, Nakkoa and a man I don't recognise are drinking some sort of translucent purple drink from slightly-smaller-than-pint glasses. The man spots that I'm heading their way first, regarding me curiously as I approach. Nakkoa notices that he's seen something, turns to look at me and then smiles before elbowing her fellow doctor.

"Doctor Natu?"

"O-oh." Despite how well our last meeting went, she doesn't look all that pleased to be dealing with me. "Pawl." It was the closest I could do with written Korugari phonemes. "What brings you here? Killed anyone interesting lately?"

"No, they were quite dull. Look, I-."

"And apparently you're now fluent in my language. Or was it another translator upgrade?"

"Technically, a translator upgrade. I really need to talk to you about something. If your companions can spare you..?"

"I'm fine here." She takes a long sip from her drink.

"Okay, look, I was working up to trying to recruit you. I was going to take my time over it, see how you responded… But events have rather gotten away from me and I need to make my final offer now. Can we go somewhere-?"

"You know what? Yeah. Okay." She takes another glug and then rises from her seat. "I've had-" I transition us both to one of the pub's currently unused function rooms. "-about enough-." She blinks at the sudden change in location. "You can teleport."

"Yes. Shall we?" I gesture to a couple of nearby barstools, and after a moment's consideration she selects the furthest and sits down. "Doctor Natu, I recently overthrew the government of a nation which routinely gouged out the eyes of its female citizens upon them reaching adulthood. I desperately need someone-."

"What? Why would they-?"

"Some god or other, apparently. If I ever find them then I'll kill them too, but that isn't the immediate concern. I can give you all of the personnel and equipment you could want, but there's a country full of blind women-."

"You need an administrator, not a neurosurgeon. You'd be better off hiring Nakkoa-."

"You can hire her, if you want."

"And I still have my bond to pay off."

"Done. Anything else?"

"Why are you even offering this to me? You must have thousands of other people you could go to." She realises something. "Including doctors who are actually the same species as the patients."

"I'm an empath. There may be better doctors around, but of all of the ones I've met, you've got the closest emotional makeup to my ideal."

"What's that got to do with-?"

I palm a power ring on my left hand, lay it flat down on the bar and then slide it towards her. "Your signing on bonus." I lift my hand away-

-and she leans away from it as though it were a hissing cobra. "That's a power ring."

I pull off my gloves and allow my environmental shield to brighten slightly. "Yep. I'm an Orange Lantern. And since I don't like the-."

"What makes you think I'd want to touch that thing?"

I hold up my left hand, palm facing her. Then I generate a construct knife and sever my index and middle fingers. I let the wound bleed for a moment before recreating the fingers and disintegrating the severed ones. "There is no greater healing tool in the universe than an orange power ring wielded by someone who genuinely wants to heal people. And while I don't think you like power rings any more than most Korugari, I think that you recognise the utility of such a useful tool."

"I'd be exiled."

"Only if any other Korugari saw you with it. Sector Four Nine Five is a long way from here. No one need know."

Her eyes narrow. "How can you possibly think you know me that well after meeting me twice?"

"Because that's my job. I know things about you that you don't know."

She folds her arms across her chest. "Like what?"

"You know that you're adopted. And since you're a doctor, you almost certainly know that you're a hybrid." A shallow nod. "Do you know what species your other parent was?"

She frowns slightly, shaking her head. "No one knows that. But I guess you think you do."

"Your parents know. You're half Ungaran. And since a grand total of two Ungarans have ever been to Korugar..."

No backing up this time. She just freezes. "No."

"I imagine that they're keeping the information from you because they promised your natural mother. But it's too late; your natural father found out about you years ago. So-" I pat the ring. "-this isn't just about doing the Four Nine Five a good turn. It's also about protecting you. And everyone around you." I smile. "The pay and conditions are generous and you'll get to do far more good than you would in a Korugar City show hospital." I smile at her. "So how about it?"

And that's when she punches me.