I have sunk so low "Fallen," Sarah McLaughlin
I have messed up….
And there doesn't seem
a way to be redeemed.
Superwoman palmed away the lightning bolt and drove a spinning back kick into the ribs of the colorfully masked super-powered desperado who'd flung it at her. She followed up the first kick with a heel to the solar plexus, but the villain, who called himself Pillan, managed to toss off a tornado-like tongue of fire before he doubled over, gasping. The flames twisted around the tall blonde superhero, obstructing her view long enough for Pillan to recover and put a chunk of the blazing Chilean sky between them.
As she shrugged through the fiery helix, Superwoman glanced quickly landward and noted that Pillan's two dozen fanatical followers, pumped up as they were on some sort of herbal super-steroid, were less than a challenge for her seven teammates. Only a handful of the orange-masked, loin-cloth clad disciples of the self-styled would-be Mapuche god remained on their feet. The rest of Pillan's "huecuvus" – demon spirits – lay scattered on the earth like a weird mosaic of candy corn.
Pillan was soaring inland toward a cluster of small long-dormant volcanoes. Superwoman was glad to see him moving away from Arica, the resort city he had targeted for annihilation. In addition to tourists luxuriating on some of the nicest beaches in Chile, the city was thick with nightclub patrons and gamblers from all over the world – a hell of a lot of potential massacre victims. Superwoman felt more comfortable letting loose in the isolated mountain area surrounding Arica. She felt hot wind against her face and shoulders as she rocketed toward her adversary, determined that his first ride on the supervillain train would be his last.
She was faster than Pillan and mere meters from grabbing him when she felt a torrent of murky warmth push over her shoes, past her legs and finally over her torso and head. Lava. Damn. He'd waited until she'd flown over a volcano and triggered a sort of geological projectile vomiting effect. Now Superwoman was pissed. She was sure the molten rock had melted the soles of her favorite Reeboks.
Pillan was plummeting downward, skimming the body of one of the larger volcanoes in an attempt to obscure his escape. Apparently, he had not taken a potential need for camouflage into account when choosing his garish red and purple costume, opting instead to make some sort of warped cultural statement. Superwoman spotted him easily and plunged after him, effortlessly parrying a single, rather weak, lightning bolt he attempted to throw over his shoulder. Then she flew parallel to Pillan, locked her arms around his waist from behind and flipped backwards. She slammed heavily into the ground, taking Pillan with her. The impact did nothing to Superwoman, but the supposed South American deity was unconscious.
"Guess this ends your reign of annoyance," Superwoman said. She was sorry Pillan couldn't hear her. Hoisting him over her shoulder, she lifted off to rejoin the rest of the Justice League.
Her teammates had finished off Pillan's minions and were waiting for her. Arsenal and Flash were walking among the wounded huecuvus, most of whom where out cold. Midori, the League's newest member, was jotting notes on a handheld device, while Grendel Gardner, the League's Green Lantern, projected a giant inverted emerald arrow into the sky, alerting local authorities to the location where the bad guys were available for pick-up. Arican squad cars were tearing down a badly paved road toward the battle site. Not far behind them were jeeps bearing squads of military police.
Batman was standing with his back to a giant boulder, his arms folded over his chest as he surveyed the field of tangled bodies. Near him stood Quiver, Arsenal's daughter. Lian Harper, like her father, Roy, was an expert archer. She was smacking at the handle of her bow in an attempt to brush away some dirt when Batman seized her by the arm and lifted her off of her feet, swinging her in a high circular arc toward an attacking huecuvu who had seemingly come out of nowhere. Quiver recovered quickly from the unexpected lift and rammed the pointed end of her bow into the charging man's chest. Superwoman opened her mouth to shout a warning: a second rogue huecuvu had just leapt from the boulder behind Batman, who was still swinging Quiver into her assailant.
Superwoman should have known better; Batman was the ultimate combat multitasker. His left leg shot almost 180 degrees in the air, catching the second attacker with a thrusting sidekick that would end his reproductive capabilities, before setting Quiver gracefully onto the ground. The huecuvus' last holdouts lay crumpled at their feet.
"That was awesome." Superwoman touched down and dumped Pillan. She beamed at her teammates. Lian curtsied with exaggerated flourish. Batman reacted to the praise as he always did – by not responding at all. His eyes moved from Superwoman to the lifeless Pillan.
"I guess we're not going to destroy civilization in order to rebuild it," he said.
"Not today," said Superwoman.
As soon as the door to the Javelin-11 sealed shut, Superwoman dropped into a seat and touched a spot near her right hip. In a shimmering instant, the statuesque blonde transformed into a petite young woman with striking near-black eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. There was a device resembling a tiny MP3 player clipped to the hip pocket of her faded jeans. Martha Kent pulled off one of her pink and white Reeboks and winced at the mutilated rubber sole.
"These are out of stock," she said mournfully.
"You should wear something more practical," Batman said. He had taken a seat across from her.
Martha shrugged. "I like to be comfortable."
Flash, whose real name was Wally West, buckled himself into a nearby seat and glanced surreptitiously at them, an anticipatory glint in his blue eyes. Most conversations between Batman and Superman's daughter flared quickly into heated rows. Flash found these exchanges supremely entertaining. It took very little to set them off – Martha dismissing Batman's advice on combat attire could easily descend into an avalanche of acrimony.
"You're going to lose a lot of shoes," Batman said mildly, as Gren started the Javelin's engines and the shuttle began to shake. Flash frowned, then glanced over at Roy, who seemed as relieved at the lack of fireworks as Wally was disappointed.
Lian Harper scrambled to strap herself into the seat next to Martha's before Gren had them airborne. She barely made it, tumbling against Martha as the Jav lifted off and Gren pointed its nose toward the sky. Lian shook her long red hair free from where it had been trapped between her shoulder blades and the back seat cushion and wriggled into a comfortable position.
"Ready for tonight?" she asked Martha. Her roommate grinned, nodded and pulled a thick medical textbook out from under her seat.
"Tonight?" asked Midori, a green-skinned, blonde Coluan whose real name was unpronounceable. "Tonight's weapons inventory night." She received half a dozen puzzled stares. "At the Watchtower? We're going to have pizza."
Everyone's eyes shifted to Roy, who was struggling to hide an embarrassed smile. "C'mon now, guys. These things have to get done."
"I'm afraid it'll have to get done without us," said Martha. "We're going to a party."
"A BOHICA party," added Lian.
Although Wally was pretty sure Roy had set up the inventory as a strange sort of date for himself and Midori, he looked eagerly at Batman, in case the caped crusader had something biting to offer about Martha partying when there was Justice League business to be done. Batman said nothing.
"A what party?" asked Meera Buhpathi, the team's telepath. She pushed her shiny black bangs off of her forehead and some Arican dust flurried onto the floor of the shuttle.
Martha's dark eyes shone mischievously. "In late August/early September, most hospitals start their teaching cycles," she explained. "New medical students and residents arrive and the training process starts over again. The first few months can get pretty trying. Returning staff usually kicks off the year with a big party."
At Arkham Asylum, recruiting talented psychiatrists was always difficult, but this year had been a particular struggle, said Martha, who was a second-year fellow at Gotham City's infamous institution for the criminally insane. After the mass murder of dozens of staff earlier in the year by a psychotic technopath named Fray, most of the young doctors who had accepted residencies at Arkham withdrew to find safer training programs. It had taken Devon Persky, the asylum's director, months to find replacements, most of them only marginally qualified. The last of these nervous recruits had reported in yesterday at 8 AM and had been carried out on a stretcher, minus one of his big toes, less than three hours later. Persky had said to hell with it and declared his staff roster full.
"So now you get your party," Flash said.
"Yeah," said Martha, now searching through the contents of Biochemical Components of Sociopathology. "One of the senior fellows has a loft near the riverfront. He's throwing it."
"And it has a Polynesian theme?" Meera asked. Martha and Lian looked at her quizzically.
"The name you said: Bo – Bo-something. It sounds kind of…."
Lian giggled. "It's an acronym. Bend Over –"
Martha added, " – Here It Comes Again."
Next Chapter: A ride home and a bad dream.