JUSTICE LEAGUE
PART 1
New York City
Jose stumbled in and out of the long shadows cast by the sky-risers in the alley. Clumsily tipping his head back, he held the bottle above his wide open mouth hoping for one last drop. Nothing. Again and again he tried, nearly stumbling over his feet and narrowly missing garbage cans, empty crates, and hanging ladders. Eventually loosing his balance, and realizing there isn't any more booze to be had, Jose crashed face first into a pile of garbage bags laying next to a dumpster.
The smell is stale and putrid, but Jose is too far gone to notice. The bags are comfortable, comfortable and warm, and he lets himself go. He closed his eyes, hoping the world would stop spinning, and feels himself melt into garbage bags. It's peaceful and quiet, and he resigns to let sleep overtake him… until the shadows are suddenly whisked away by a bright light.
Ripping through the darkness, a flash of light briefly illuminates the pitch blackness of the alleyway before gradually dimming and settling into a swirling mass. Jose's eyes grow wide, his visions settles, his ears stop ringing, and his heart begins to race as three figures emerge.
The first is a woman. Clad in dark clothing fitted tightly to her body, she steps through with a two pistol looking devices clutched in each hand. She jerks her head left then right, then, apparently satisfied, she places one of the pistols on her belt while calling out over her shoulder, "All clear."
Another steps through, a man of medium build whose tight muscles show confidently through his dark clothing. Holding no visible weapons, he fingers begin tapping what looks to Jose to be an Ipad looking device before saying, "Checking atmospheric readings."
A third emerges right after the second. A shorter man who was also skinnier than the other, had a shiny bald head and red goatee. Waving his hand in front of his face as it twists into a distasteful expression, he said with disgust, "Phew. And I thought it smelled bad where we came from. Never thought I'd miss the smell of scorched fossil fuels."
"Quiet," the woman said. Her eyes were still sweeping through the alley as if she expected someone to jump out at them at any time. Jose remained perfectly still, hoping the shadows and garbage bags hid him well enough not to be seen. He was too terrified to move, too terrified to breath. He didn't know who these people were, but he'd read enough to know that in the Age of Heroes, anyone who came through portals or had advanced weaponry like there's was dangerous.
The woman pressed a button on a device strapped to her wrist, and the swirling light behind them disappeared with a blink. Darkness settled upon the alley once more and Jose swallowed.
"Atmospheric readings are consistent with year 2013," said the man with broad shoulders. "With weather patterns indicating sometime near the mid year…"
"Good enough," the thin man said impatiently. "Where are they?"
The woman placed the other weapon on her belt and reached into a fold of her garments. Jose watched her closely, fighting through the black spots that were beginning to invade the corners of his vision. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the woman only withdrew what looked to be a small leather bound book, like a journal.
It looked extremely old and worn, and she removed the binding carefully and withdrew what looked like an ordinary pencil from the spine. She flipped through several pages before settling on one near the middle.
"Target one, Central City," she said. "Location…"
"I remember," said the one with broad shoulders as he put his I-pad looking device back in his garments.
"Good," she replied. "I don't have to remind you to stick to the plan, do I?" she said. The man with the broad shoulders looked at her coldly, and she continued. "Your secondary target is in Metropolis. There shouldn't be any interference by then."
Jose could tell this was a woman who gave orders with a firm first as she stared at the man with the broad shoulders intently. The man kept his eyes steady, but said nothing and answered with only a slow now. The bald man smirked.
"Target two," she continued, turning a page in her journal. "Eastern coastal cities. I'll find a suitable target once I get there."
"Going to bait her out, eh," the bald man said.
"If it comes to that, yes," the woman replied.
"Better hope none of the others come out to play," said the bald man.
"If we all stick to the plan they should be plenty pre-occupied," she answered dryly.
The bald man smiled slyly. "Target three?"
She turned to another page, and Jose was surprised when her face became still and grave. "Washington DC," she said, hesitantly.
"Ah, the American capital huh," the bald man said with a grunt. "I'll be sure to take plenty of, what did they call them, pictures?"
"Will you please take this seriously," the broad shouldered one said.
The bald man cocked an eyebrow and turned to the broad shouldered man. "Just trying to loosen up."
"Let's move out," the woman said, stepping between them. "Move on your primary targets, then rendezvous in the arctic." Her eyes moved between them both. "This is it," she said. "Remember why we're here and what's at stake. Good luck to both of you."
"Good luck," said the broad shouldered man.
"Almost brought a tear to my eye," the bald man said with a snort. The woman glared at him. "Alright, alright," he said quickly while raising his hands defensively. "Look, in all seriousness, no one wants this to succeed more than me."
"Then lets stop wasting time and move out," said the broad shouldered man.
Relief washed over Jose. They hadn't seen him, and they were leaving. He didn't care who they were or what they were doing here; he just wanted them to leave. Then, he could go find another bottle and another alley without giant portals of light or mysterious strangers and live out the rest of the night in the peacefulness of intoxication. He'd forget what he'd seen by the time the sun rose and life would be normal again.
The three began to fiddle with their garments, checking other machines and gadgets he couldn't recognize, before turning to leave. But then the broad shouldered one suddenly stopped.
"Someone's here," he said in a muffled whisper.
Jose's heart froze.
Looking at a gadget on his wrist, the broad shouldered man began turning slowly. He turned with his eyes on the gadget until he faced the pile of bags Jose had fallen into. "There," he said, pointing.
Jose was yanked from the bags and lying face down on the ground with a boot pressing on his back in a flash. Unable to tell if it was the booze, or they were just that fast, Jose began to feel pain radiating from his ribs and back, then ribs as he was kicked and rolled over. He gagged as his stomach turned, and was shaking when he finally gathered enough of his wits to look up. But he nearly passed out when he found himself staring at the end of a hollow barrel.
"Who are you?!" the woman demanded.
It was the bald man who had kicked him and the woman who held the gun. The broad shouldered man stood behind them both looking uncertain. The bald man looked ready to kick him again, but was looking at the woman for a cue.
"Who are you!" the woman said, this time louder, threateningly, but not too loud as to yell.
"He's just a bum," said the broad shouldered man, calmly. "I can smell the alcohol on him."
"He heard everything we said," the bald man said.
"He's drunk," said the broad shouldered man.
"The mission," the woman said, uncertainly.
"Just let him go, he's not a threat to us," the broad shouldered man said.
"Sure we can risk that?" the bald one said. "A lot's at stake you know."
The broad shouldered man stepped towards the bald one. "Look at him. Nobody would believe a word he'd said. They'd excuse it as crazy paranoid rambling."
"But this is a crazy and paranoid era," the woman said. "All it would take is one person to believe this man, and we'll be hunted by every resource they have."
"Listen to yourself," the broad shouldered man said. "He's human, he's on our side…"
"Too much is at risk," the woman said.
"He's just a miscreant."
"Oh please," the bald man said over the others. "We don't have time for this. Here, I'll make it easy."
Jose watched as the bald one pulled a pistol of his own out of his garments. Then, after he heard a soft whine followed by a bright light, he saw the bald man squeeze a trigger before everything went dark and Jose couldn't feel anything anymore.
The Arctic
I was a teenager when most of my abilities manifested. Super speed, super strength, heat vision, icy breath, telescopic and x-ray vision, they might seem like every little boy's dream, but it in truth, it was a mostly a burden. They would flare up at the most random and often inappropriate and awkward times. I don't know how many times I had to dash away or rudely excuse myself to be alone while I tried to regain control. It wasn't easy, and I awarded such labels as freak, or spas, which I always heard even as they were muttered or whispered, thanks to the most difficult of all my powers, my super hearing.
In one moment I would hear nothing more than any other human would hear. The wind rustling through the cornfields, the birds chirping softly in the trees, cars passing by on dirt roads. If you've heard them your whole life you don't even notice them, they just become part of the background noise.
But in the next moment, I would hear everything, and I mean literally everything. Its like being assaulted by every single solitary sound from miles around. Every footstep, door slammed, shout and whisper, bee buzzing, bird calling, rock splashing, all at once blaring in my ears and into my mind.
The episodes would pass, and the sounds of the world would return to normal, but until they did it was miserable. I remember how I used run through the fields with my hands over my ears, hoping to outrun the noises. I would run and run for miles, as far away from everything as I could until the noises faded into whispers. I'd always be surprised to see how far I'd run. The miles and miles into the middle of nowhere where I could find solitude and wait patiently until the episode ended.
I think that's why I choose the Artic for my Fortress of Solitude. It's farther away from civilization than anywhere else on planet Earth, and when I'm here I don't have to hear anything.
Dawn is coming. It comes at a time of day when the rest of the world was is at its busiest. But in the artic dawn, dusk, and twilight are all the same; still, silent, and peaceful.
Until recently, I've managed to keep this place a secret from the rest of the world. But that secret was broken when H'ell broke into the Fortress and nearly destroyed Earth while trying to use its immense power source to send himself back in time (See H'el on Earth, Superman 13-18). H'el exposed the Fortress of Solitude to the rest of the world, and he exposed me as well.
It's why asked them to meet me here. Today, I'm breaking the peace and solitude this place offers.
At the coordinates I gave them, at the time I requested, the air begins to stir. A loud boom follows a few moments later which echoes through the glaciers, caves, and mountains of the artic. A pillar of smoke rises from it origin, but begins to clear moments later as two familiar figures emerge.
"Bruce, Vic. Thank you for coming."
"Sheesh Clark," Said Cyborg. "Its reading -60 degrees on my instruments. One thing I don't miss is the cold. And I don't want to be rude, but if I don't get out of the cold soon my circuits could freeze."
"Soon enough," I said. "I'm sure your circuits won't take too much damage."
"Yeah no worries," he said. "And I'm not complaining. The constant flow of information I receive has slowed down a bit up here. It kind of reminds me of what peace and quiet is. But how are you handling it Bruce?"
Bruce hides his eyes well beneath his cowl, but I know him well enough to guess what he's thinking. He's wondering why I invited them here, just the two of them, and not the rest of the Justice League. I can't expect any less, he is Batman after all. And its why I choose him.
"Thermal heaters," he said. "But they won't last long in these temperatures."
As brief and to the point as always, I meet his eyes and nod. "I know time is valuable to you both, so if you'll just follow me."
I gave them the coordinates a little south in case somehow, someway, someone had actually hacked into the Watchtowers computers systems. The chances of this are slim to none, but I don't like to take chances where the Fortress is concerned, no matter how small they might be. I wonder if Bruce is rubbing off on me.
We reach the summit of a moderate ice dune and the Fortress of Solitude comes into view. Cyborg let out a long and admiring whistle and I can't help but grin. Why not? The Fortress is made, no not made, grown, entirely of crystals from advanced Kryptonian technology my father, Jor-el, sent with me to Earth. The structure rests within the middle of an artic glacier and looks to me like a monument to a lost civilization.
"I know I've seen it before, but that was during battle," Vic said. "Didn't see it all to well then, and now, I just don't know what to say." (See H'el on Earth)
"Well hopefully this visit will be a bit more hospitable," I said lightly.
"You never brought anyone here before, and most of the world didn't know of its existence," Batman said.
"And I would have kept it that way if I could have helped it," I replied, dryly.
Inside, I lead them through the vast chambers and long hallways, past the menagerie, and through the anti-chambers. Everywhere you look there's advanced alien technology I've either recovered or confiscated. Some are familiar looking, making it easy to guess what their use is, but other's are more complicated. Most of these devices I haven't been able to determine what they're used for, and the other's I've kept only to make sure they don't fall into the wrong hands.
I give a brief explanation of each device as we pass them. Vic, like a kid in a candy store, looks at each device with wide eyes while listening eagerly. Bruce on the other hand, is silent.
I don't tell them everything, I can't risk it. Vic can interface with every computer on the planet, which gives him access to any sort data he wants, at any time wants, with a mere thought. Its what makes him a valuable member of our team, and why I choose him. But it also has risks.
If Vic can access any computer on the planet, then its also possible he could be accessed by any computer on the planet. It's highly unlikely, but still, I have to be prepared.
Bruce is more organic. I have no doubt he's memorizing every detail he can of every device here; every curve and twist, corner and straight edge, shape and models, even the layouts of buttons and switches. Bruce doesn't have any powers, like the rest of us. So he always prepares using his greatest asset, his mind.
Gotham city is one of the most dark and corrupt places on Earth; and Bruce calls it home. Going up against the likes of Hush, The Court of Owls, and the Joker requires him to think in the most extreme ways. He constantly strives to out-think his opponents, anticipate their next moves, learn all he can about their plans and motives, in order to get a step ahead of them. He's used to thinking about every possible outcome of any given threat, and expecting the worst of them to happen.
That's why I choose him.
The largest anti-chamber within the Fortress of Solitude is located on its lowest level. Here, I keep my more - sentimental - pieces.
In the center of the chamber is a statue of two figures, each extending an arm to support a large sphere reminiscent of a planet. I come before this statue whenever I visit, and today, I want Bruce and Vic to be apart of it too.
"Allow me to introduce you to Lara and Jor-el, of the House of El, of Krypton."
They stare silently, before Vic breaks it a moment later. "Whoa," he said. "Those were your parents?"
I nod. "I found this statue when Brainiac first came to Earth," I said. "It was the ship, his ship, that I used as my first fortress after I defeated him. (See Action Comics 8) When I found the device from my father which allowed me to build my arctic fortress, I moved them here, along with everything else from Brainiac's ship."
"You seems to know more about Krypton than anyone else on Earth," Batman said.
"Shouldn't I? I am one of the last few Kryptonian's in the galaxy.
"This place is just too cool," Vic says. "It's like Disneyland for robots."
"Or a mausoleum," Batman said. "There's a lot of people would do almost anything to find this place and see what kind of technology you have. There's also a lot of people who wonder why you haven't shared it with the rest of the world. "
Bruce always speaks plainly, always has and probably always will. But still, somehow he finds just the right words to hit deep. Regardless, I crack a half smile. "You're giving me too much credit Bruce," I said. "I've hardly scratched the surface in understanding any of the technology here. I may be from Krypton, but I was raised on Earth. Most of what I know about technology I learned at Smallville High and Metropolis Junior College. I've picked up some things along the way, but most of it is still way beyond me. What you see here is just as alien to me as it is to you."
"So then why did you ask us here?" Vic said. "You've never brought anyone here before."
"Good question," Bruce added. "You've kept the Fortress of Solitude a secret from everyone, even from the Justice League. We only found out about it when you needed us."
Bruce's eyes are locked on mine hard. I've had a lot of practice over the years of disguising my feelings by keeping a plain and aloof front, but right now I feel tired.
I asked Bruce and Vic here because I want them to help me with something; something I've been thinking about for several years now. I've thought long and hard about this; about the benefits and dangers, the risks and rewards. Even when I feel I've made my final decision, I wind up second guessing myself a short time later.
But now I'm sure I've made up my mind, and Bruce and Vic will not only work beside me, but will be my safeguards and hold me in check.
"I brought you here because I trust you, both of you, and I need your help," I said. "I want to restore Kandor."
Washington DC
A.R.G.U.S. Headquarters
"Colonel Trevor! Anthony Cartwright is on the line…"
"Tell him I'm out for the day," Colonel Trevor snapped as he strode past his secretary towards his office.
"But sir…"
"I'm out!"
He heard her mumble softly into the phone but didn't pay attention to what she said before hastily opening his office door. Today is a day just like any other for Trevor. He wasn't in a good mood, he hardly ever is these days. Stress and lack of sleep will make anyone moody or crabby, and Steve Trevor was no different. Last night was another restless one, and he spent most of it tossing and turning in bed. His mind was racing thinking about work, about Superhero's, about…
"Colonel Trevor! How good to see you!"
Colonel Trevor's heavy eye lids snapped wide open. Sitting in his chair, behind his desk, behind his computer, behind the files he'd left open from the night before and dressed in a suit too expensive to afford on a typical government salary and holding his phone with a smug smile stretched firmly from ear to ear, was Anthony Cartwright.
"Your receptionist said you were out," Cartwright said, placing the phone back in its holster in a way meant to draw Trevor's attention to it. "I figured I knew where I could find you though. You're so heavily invested in your work these days."
"What do you want?" Trevor said, his knuckles turning white from squeezing his coffee cup.
"Good morning to you as well," Cartwright said. "But if you insist on skipping the pleasantries, then so be it. But we both know why I'm here, and since you don't seem to be in the best of moods lets just get right to it. Are we a go for project Arctic Storm?"
"No," Colonel Trevor said. "Now leave."
"Still? I'd have thought you'd come to your senses by now."
"I have a lot of work to do. You got in ok, so feel free to let yourself…"
"You know, there's a lot of people questioning your judgment these days," Cartwright said He got up from Trevor's desk chair and began circling around the room. "Amanda Waller being the obvious…"
"Waller and I have an understanding," Trevor said, placing his briefcase on the ground next to his desk then sitting in his chair. "A classified understanding, so don't think you can go asking about that either." (What's he talking about? See Justice League of America!)
Cartwright held up his hands innocently. "Never crossed my mind. Nobody questions Waller's judgment. But yours…" he snapped his finger and winked "..well yours is just becoming regular water cooler gossip these days."
Trevor held his breath and felt his shoulders tense. It was an effort to resist an urge he felt to leap across the room and throw Cartwright out the window.
"Ok, I'm being a bit…rude," Cartwright said, insincerely. "You're dedicated to your work, everybody knows that. You were the liaison to the Justice League for close to five years. You were with them when they saved the world time and time again. I'm sure you think of them as friends…even though they kicked you out."
"They requested someone else be their liaison to A.R.G.U.S. and for the good of the relationship between them and the United States Government I stepped aside without complaint or quarrel."
"Oh, right, that relationship," Cartwright said, his smugness returning. "But a lot of can't help but wonder about your relationship with Wonder Woman."
Trevor slammed his fist on his desk. Cartwright didn't flinch. "That's a private matter, but since it doesn't make a difference anymore, its over. It's been over for a long time…"
"Oh yes, we know," Cartwright said. He reached into his jacket and withdrew an unopened file. "We defiantly know its over, but the question is, do you? In case you didn't, here's proof."
He dropped the file Trevor's desk and opened it. Inside was a satellite picture. Enhanced in high definition, it was an over head shot of two figures, standing, or actually flying, alone, and too close together to be merely talking. They were kissing, passionately. Trevor recognized the golden gauntlets, golden lasso, Amazonian fashioned tiara, and pitch black hair almost immediately. He also recognized the red cape and blue body armor of the other figure.
His throat became thick.
"Loyalty is a good thing, everybody knows that," Cartwright said. "But loyalty can cloud judgment. Things are changing, Trevor, and the honey moon is over. Not every one who was a Superhero yesterday is one today. And for every supposed good guy that appears, several bad guys seem to pop up right beside them. It's getting more dangerous by the day out there, and who knows how much more dangerous tomorrow will be. Hell, look at metropolis, home town of good ole blue. He fights a battle there every week against some freak and racks up hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage not to mention the lives put at stake by this street fighting nonsense. The Government has been trying to reimburse these people, after all its not their fault a so called superhero fought a so called super villain in their backyard, but its getting expensive. And with the economy the way it is, and the national debt already at catastrophic levels, well, its hard to just let these guys operate unleashed all the time."
Despite himself, Trevor chuckled slightly. "If you think you can get Superman on a leash, good luck."
"Oh no," Cartwright said, seriously. "We know better than that. My point is this. At some point, the Super hero's have to start giving back…"
"You mean protecting the public isn't giving back enough?"
"You call destroying half a city block every week protecting the public? We sure don't. But we also know we can't simply stop them. So we want something in return. Something that pays us back for all the damage and headaches they cause. You might even say they owe us."
"OWE YOU!" Trevor shouted. "Does wearing a suit cause your heads to be automatically shoved up your…"
"You know fully well what I'm talking about," Cartwright said, firmly. "Some of these hero's we've fostered aren't just highly skilled humans, but mystics, elemental avatars, vampires, the living dead, and Aliens from worlds with technology far more advanced than ours.
"They operate here, they live here, and we have fostered them without generously," Cartwright continued. "They bring their services, but also their baggage. And lately they've been leaving nothing but damage and destruction in their wakes. My people think its time we got a handle on this and got something in return. Something that could benefit not only the United States, but the whole world. For the greater good, Steve. Only for the greater good."
Trevor realized his fists were clenched so hard, he'd lost circulation. Unclenched them slowly, he felt the pins and needles racing up and down his arms as he calmed his thoughts. Then, he slowly leaned forward, placing both hands on his desk to hold himself upright so his eyes met Cartwright's. They glared at each other intently.
"I'm telling you right now," Trevor said. "I will never, repeat never, agree to any kind of mission such as Artic Storm. And I'll never allow the resources of A.R.G.U.S. to be used for such a mission, either. I see where you're coming from, and yes I see how the greater good could be served. But you try to go about it this way, and you'll just screw not only yourself over, but the entire world."
Cartwright nodded once, his expression unchanged.
"Well said, Colonel," he said. "You're a man of honor, integrity, and principle. I admire that, it's so rare these days."
He gathered up his files and stood. After straightening his suit, he extended a hand. "Thank you for your time Colonel Trevor. I gave it my best shot to try and bring you in, but you seem committed to your ways. So I won't waste your time any longer."
Colonel Trevor did not meet Cartwright's hand. Cartwright only smiled and slowly reeled it in a moment later.
He turned to leave, moving to take his file folder with the satellite picture of Superman and Wonder Woman with him, but stopped. Turning, he casually tossed the file folder's back on the desk, leaving it open. "I'll just leave this here for you to think about.
Trevor clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
"Meh, I won't lie," Cartwright said as he opened the door. "This was a desperate attempt to get you to change your mind."
He left and Trevor could hear Cartwright wishing his secretary a wonderful day.
Trevor buried his face in his hands. He tried to shut out the image of Superman and Diana, but knowing the picture was laying on his desk did not help. He clenched his teeth and felt his muscles tense as his arm lashed out. A can of pens and pencils, a stapler, a three hole punch, a phone, and all his files were tossed from his desk, crashing on the floor a moment later, the picture landing softly on top of the rest.
"Damn it," he said harshly under his breath. It shouldn't matter to him, it shouldn't bother him. It had been over for a long time, and who Diana spent her time with was none of his business.
But it did bother him. He couldn't say why exactly. Was it because he hadn't found someone to move on with? Or seemingly so soon? No, that wasn't it. It wasn't that simple. The truth spat at him as a cocky kid might.
She had moved on to someone better.
That was the plain and simple truth. How could Trevor ever stack up against him? How could Trevor ever compare to him? How could Trevor ever hope to win her back, against him?
The phone rang then, snapping him out of his stupor. Shaking his head as if to brush away his thoughts of her, he went to send the call to voicemail, but stopped when he saw who it was from.
Trevor quickly picked up the phone. "Trevor here."
"Colonel, we'd like to invite you down here to see something…interesting."
Trevor practically ran from his office to the elevator. He didn't even stop to answer his secretary who wanted to know what she should say if anyone called. As the elevator closed, he shouted for her to hold all his calls and make-up any sort of excuse she could think of. He didn't want anyone to know where he was going.
The department of Tele-dimensional research was Steve Trevor's personal secret. It was a department with a staff of exactly two people. Two very - different - kind of people. When Trevor first met Doctor's Day and Mickelson he had nearly dismissed them as weird, out of touch, and perhaps slightly insane. They were specialists in a sub-field of quantum physics few people took seriously; Trevor didn't know what it was called exactly, but he knew it had to do with alternate dimensions.
When A.R.G.U.S. was formed, Trevor wanted to have every base covered. After all, this was when a Super human alien, a man with a ring who could create shapes made of will, a man who could run at speeds faster than light, a woman who claimed to be a Demigod, a Cyborg who was linked to every computer in the world, a guy who could talk to fish, and a regular guy dressed like a bat had first saved the world.
Public opinion was high, and every politician and political leader was gushing to be these so called superhero's best friend. So whatever Trevor asked for while putting together A.R.G.U.S., he got.
Then, time passed, world threats became less newsworthy, public enthusiasm cooled, and the politicians moved on to the next fad they could associate themselves with. All the while, everyone began to wonder if tax dollars dedicated to meta-human affairs were being well spent. Like every other branch of the government, Trevor had to review A.R.G.U.S' costs and assets and look for items to cut. The Tele-Dimensional research division seemed obvious at the time.
As fate would have it, soon after there was an attack from beings who claimed to be from a so-called Fifth dimension. A feud of some kind had spilled over from their reality into the normal three dimensional reality and havoc ensued. (See Action Comics Vol. 2, Bullet Proof)
Superman eventually saved the day, thankfully, but the attack left an impression on Trevor. If there were other dimensions besides their own, then what else was possible? Thinking of every Philip K Dick novel he ever read, Trevor began wondering if worm holes, parallel universes, and even time travel were possible. And if anyone was advanced and powerful enough to manipulate time and space, then they would pose a threat to Earth, and Trevor wanted to be prepared.
Quietly, he reinstated the Tele-Dimensional Research Division. He kept it small, with only Doctors Day and Mickelson, and siphoned funds from other projects in small, barely noticeable amounts. The politicians and bureaucrat's ears had slipped into apathy by now, but if they knew he was still funding this department, they would shut it down and use it as another excuse to remove him from A.R.G.U.S., something Trevor suspected many of them had wanted to do for a while anyway.
The Doctor's knew the stakes, and they knew only to call him if it was of the utmost importance.
The elevator opened at the lowest sub-floor of A.R.G.U.S. headquarters. He raced down the hall to a rather ordinary looking janitorial closet. He looked up, making sure Director Waller hadn't installed any new security camera's without telling him, and after seeing there was none, he slipped through.
Taking a rather ordinary looking key from pockets, Trevor found a hidden slot behind one of the shelves and inserted it. The walls slide open to reveal a hidden room behind it a moment later.
Not used to visitors, Doctors Mickelson and Day jumped slightly.
"Colonel Trevor!" Dr. Mickelson said, bobbing up and down eagerly.
"What is it?" Trevor asked. "What have you found?"
"Here, here, looky, looky," said Dr. Day, who was sitting at his computer station.
Their stations were like something you'd find in the basement of someone's mother's house. Four computer screens sitting side by side at a curved desk, two computer towers underneath. Wires and gadgets were littered all about, along with half empty bags of potato chips and energy drinks.
Dr. Day began typing furiously at one of his key boards while Dr. Mickelson looked eagerly over Trevor's shoulder.
"We were doing our usual morning rounds," Dr. Day began.
"Rounding up the morning news by checking the usual websites for any strange appearances or phenomenon that is usually improperly dismissed as nonsensical conspiracy theories," Mickelson jumped in.
"There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for one scientist saying there was seismic activity in the Atlantic Ocean originating out of the northeast," Dr. Day said.
"Rather unusual," Mickelson said. "No fault lines out there."
"So we decided it was worthy of our expert attention," Dr. Day said. "Using the highly dumbed down Trans- dimensional wavelength reader provided for us so willingly by the every stingy bureaucrats of the Department of Defense…"
Trevor took a deep breath, and held it. They used to have a laboratory worthy of their genius before the cuts were made. Restoring their lab would be his first priority if he ever received his funding back.
"…we found there was a break in the normal dimensional vibrations around…" he finished typing and held his pointer finger high above his enter key before letting it fall dramatically. "….here."
The screen changed to a street grid map of New York City. It began zooming in giving the streets more detail until it paused over a three block radius. A dot appeared in an alleyway between two buildings.
"Happened at approximately 3:30 this morning," Mickelson said. "Dead of night. Clever beings we're dealing with here."
"Beings?" Trevor asked.
"Oh yes," Day said, nodding his head gleefully. "We hacked into a satellite to take a look at some overhead coverage of the time and location in question…"
"Which one?" Trevor asked, a bit alarmed. "Not the Governments?"
"Pshh, please," Mickelson said, indignantly. "Google's is the only one worthy of anything these days."
"And we found…" Day continued, drawing the attention back to him and his screen. "…this."
He let his finger fall on his enter button again, and the screen went black. A moment later, a satellite video feed came into view. It was of the alley way, clearly in the dead of night, and the only light was provided from some street lights.
That all changed in an instant.
There was a flash of light, and the alley way turned as bright as summer day. A large circular portal appeared in the screen, and three figures emerged.
Dr. Day extended his arms wide, and began shaking his hands as though he were a mad scientist. "They came from another dimension," he said in a voice mockingly reminiscent of black and white science fiction TV programs from the early fifties.
Trevor stared at the screen, speechless.
The Arctic
"I was able to revert Metropolis back to its normal size with only minutes remaining until Brainiac's bottling process was complete," I said. "Kandor was miniaturized a short time before Krypton was destroyed."
"So the window to restore Kandor closed a long time ago," Bruce said.
I've taken Batman and Cyborg over to Kandor. It rests on a stone pillar so I can see it every time I come here. Though large, it looks like nothing more than a model a kid might spend his summer constructing. But within the bottle is so much more; buildings and structures containing thousands of people, my people. You can't see them with the naked human eye, but I can with my telescopic vision. I', hoping even though Vic and Bruce can't see them, they'll understand anyway.
"Incredible," Vic said, leaning closely over the bottle's surface. "Even from here, you can see just how huge this place was. And advanced. It looks as though the entire city was imbedded with a intricate auto-matronic system. Looks really cool, but really complicated."
"So is the technology that miniaturized it," Bruce added. "Clark, how much do you know about the bottling technology and process?"
"Not much," I admit. "I've looked through Brainiac's logs and files and studied them as much as I can. But most of it is in languages I don't know, or encrypted using algorithms that would take years to crack. But what I can understand, though, is that the people in Kandor, my people, are alive, just in some sort of suspended animation."
"hmm," Bruce said. "That doesn't give us much to start with. And Brainiac said the process was irreversible."
"Brainiac never intended to restore his bottled cities, so therefore never developed a reverse technology," I replied. "But I don't believe that means it can't be done. I mean, what would be the point of preserving all the cities he preserved if not to one day restore them.
"So I have all his research and technology including what he used to develop the bottling process. If there's a way, I think it'll be found there."
Vic's cybernetic eye's continued roaming over Kandor while Bruce stared coldly me.
"You've obviously thought a lot about this, Clark," He said.
"Wow, those look like hover cars in there," Vic said.
"I have," I replied.
Bruce joins Vic in looking over the city, once again giving no clue to what he's thinking or feeling.
"But have you thought the rest of it through," he said a moment later. "Have you thought about what happens after?"
"Of course I have, over and over," I said, almost indignantly. "I've thought about it nearly everyday since I saved Metropolis and found Kandor. Bruce, while I was racing through Brainiac's ship trying to find Metropolis, I could hear them. They had become smaller than leaves on trees, but I could still hear them. I heard them shouting and crying and praying and arguing as they looked around and realized what had happened to them. That's not something I've forgotten."
I also haven't forgotten the fear of knowing that if I had only taken a few minutes longer, Metropolis would have been trapped in the bottle just like Kandor. Lois, Jimmy, Perry and all the others, all lost in whatever state Brainiac puts people in when he bottles a city.
"That's touching Clark, but its not what I meant."
My eyes narrow. "I've thought of every possible benefit restoring Kandor could bring, but I'm not naïve enough to think there aren't dangers either. That's why you two are here actually. I have a proposition. A proposition for you two and no one else."
Vic pulled himself away from Kandor. Standing beside Bruce, they both look at me intently. I've rehearsed this many times; going over and over what I would say and how I would say it. It hasn't been easy, and I know the potential Pandora's box I could be opening. I've second guessed myself plenty of times from day to day, or hour to hour, even minute to minute. I know what my heart wants - it speaks louder than anything else to me - but my mind speaks loudly too, and plainly. I've realized this isn't a decision I can make with just my heart, few things are anymore.
"I want to restore Kandor, give them a chance to live again," I said. "But I can't do it by myself, and I probably shouldn't. I need and want you, both of you. Vic, because you're a supercomputer who can access the research and technology of the greatest scientific minds on the planet instantly."
"Yeah, neat," Cyborg said, nodding his head excitedly. "There's a lot to learn, and it could be fun."
"Bruce," I said. "I need you because you are also a good mind, one who could sort and sift through all the research to help Vic focus."
That's one reason, but the only one I'll give him today. The other is more - complicated.
"Hmm," Bruce said. "Clark, what are we hoping to gain from this? There's still a lot you have to think through, or if you have, you have to tell us. For one, Kandor is a highly advanced city with highly advanced people. Have you thought about the worlds reaction to this, a city full of people like you? That's not even mentioning their technology."
"Yes," I said. "And here's the honest truth. I hope that Kryptonian technology can help advance Earth centuries ahead to benefit all mankind."
"You're assuming the Kryptonian's would willingly share their technology with us," Bruce said.
"Diplomatically, I believe arrangements and agreements can be made that will satisfy both people," I said.
"And if they aren't? Have you thought about the consequences?"
I knew he would go there; he always does. It's part of who he is, who he has to be. Thinking of every possibility, both good and bad, and always preparing for the worst.
"Giving advanced technology light years ahead of our own would be like giving a fully automatic rifle to a twelve year old," Bruce continued. "They'd be trying to wield and control power they had never dreamed of having before. Power they wouldn't understand, power they aren't ready for."
"The benefits far outweigh the risks," I countered. "Disease, poverty, war. These concepts were nearly absent on Krypton. Earth has advanced enough they could wipe out entire countries with Nuclear Missiles launched from anywhere on the planet. Meanwhile, there's still constant warring over territory, resources, and money. Earth is sitting on the edge of a knife and one step to the left or right and they'll tumble on down.
"But with Kryptonian technology, all that could be changed, and maybe humanity can get off the knife onto solid ground again."
I stare intently at him hoping my words pierce through the dark could he hangs around himself. I want him to see the world as I do. I want him to see the glass as half full, to see the bright side, to feel hope. I want him to see humanities potential, and not just its shortcomings. I want him to. I need him to.
"Don't you agree, Bruce?" I asked.
"Perhaps I do today," he replied. "But what about tomorrow? Do we know who will hold this technology in the future? Do we know they'll always use it wisely? History is full of despots, monarchs, and elected leaders who are just thieves, murderer's, and psychopaths. Ethnic cleansing, concentration camps, killing fields, genocide; all committed by people like this. History is molded and shaped by these people, and they would be the one's who'd have control of this technology. You know as well as I do a gun can be used to either save a life, or take one, what determines its actions is the intent of the one wielding it."
"You really have no faith in tomorrow?" I asked.
He looks at me with the same hidden and expressionless look, and asks simply, "Do you?" My gut clenched as my heart quicken. He has a way of doing this, all the time. He's right of course. Damn it! He's always right. I've never understood how he can see humanity so darkly. I've never even wanted to try. But then again, this is what makes him so valuable. The world needs people like Bruce Wayne. I need people like him. And as much as I hate it, it's the second reason why I choose him.
"Believe me when I say I hear you Bruce, and that's why you're here," I said. "Everything you said is true, so here what I thought of." I step back from them both, and allow myself to relax.
"First, all work done on restoring Kandor will be done here, in the Fortress of Solitude. Nothing can leave under any circumstance. None of the technology, none of your notes, not even scribbles made in notebooks or your hands.
"Second," I continued, my eyes shifting between them. "It stays between us. We don't tell our families…" I said looking at Cyborg, "…partners…" I added turning to Bruce, "…or the other members of the League."
The last sentence came out slowly; partly because I wanted to make myself clear, and partly because I know how serious it is.
Vic's eyes widened, but Bruce's stay still. Vic looked away for a moment, but then turned back. "Alright," he said. "I'm in. Not just because of the Technology, but for your people too. And I won't tell anyone or take anything with me."
I smiled. "Thanks Vic, this wouldn't be possible without you," I said, offering my hand for him to shake.
Then, Bruce.
"Tell no one, and bring nothing away from the Fortress," he said. "That sounds reasonable. But why not tell the others in the league. It could be bad if they found out from someone else."
"I know," I said. "I don't want to keep them in the dark, but I feel its best for the time being. We'll work together, try to find the answers, explore the possibilities, review the consequences. If at anytime any of us decide this is no longer a good idea, then I promise you, we will stop…I will stop. If, however, we are able to find a way, then we'll tell the others, and bring them in to help us decide."
"So tell no one," Bruce repeated.
"Yes."
"Agreed," Bruce said, then added coldly, "No one, not even Diana."
Washington DC
A.R.G.U.S. Headquarters
"Where'd they go!" Trevor shouted. "Quick, get the satellite feed up."
"Way ahead of you boss," Mickelson said slipping behind his computer. Windows began opening and closing rapidly while he typed as furiously as Dr. Day. "We began tracking them on satellite right away. Each of them went in different directions, traveling in -unconventional- means."
"Unconventional to the average human being that is," Day added.
"Just tell me where they were going," Trevor said.
"Well, after what looked like a struggle and some kind of random shot fired in the dark, one took off west," Mickelson said. "Another, the - uh - woman, headed south. Last we checked, they were still traveling."
"West and south, ok," Trevor said. "Keep on them. What about the third?"
"The bald one, yes," Day said. "Let's see, he went…where is it."
"What do you mean where is it?" Trevor asked. He clutched his fists tightly as his legs began to feel anxious.
"Well, that's the thing; he didn't leave like the others," Day said.
"He actually just hailed a cab and took off," Mickelson said. "It was hard to keep track of him in the downtown traffic of New York…"
"But last we saw…yeah here," Day said pointing to a screen. "He was heading south west, towards…well towards DC actually."
Trevor's eyes went wide and his hand squeezed his cell phone in his pocket. "What time did they arrive last night?"
"Um, the portal opened around three AM last night, so about six hours ago," Mickelson said.
Trevor's jaw clenched. These three people were obviously not here by accident. They had arrived in a dark alley and split up in three different directions. Whoever they were, they were here with a reason.
Trevor began spinning his phone in his hand. As much as he hated it, he had to call Amanda Waller.
"Make a copy of all this and get it on my desk ASAP," Trevor said, turning to leave.
"You mean walk around A.R.G.U.S. as if we're not your super secret weapon anymore?" Mickelson asked.
"Yes, yes, just hurry," Trevor barked, annoyed they didn't understand the severity of the situation. "This bald guy could be in DC any minute and we have to figure out where he's going and what he…"
The building suddenly began to rumble then shake. Down below, where they were, the vibrations were subtle yet obvious enough as sirens began blaring and the lights went dimmed for a split second.
"Damn it," Trevor said.
"What, what's that?" Day asked.
"The buildings going into lockdown," Trevor said, racing towards the door.
"Meaning what?" Mickelson asked.
"Ugh, civilians," Trevor muttered under his breath, then shouted over his shoulder, "It means we've been bombed."
Trevor stopped as his phone began ringing. He went to answer it, but didn't even have a chance answer before the screen went blank. The phone showed a missed call, and the number belonging to his secretary upstairs.
Mickelson and Day exchanged nervous looks with each other before turning to Trevor.
Trevor snapped his phone shut. "Quick, download all the data you have about those three and disconnect your computers from the network," he said, then began running down the hall towards the elevator.
"Then what?!" Day shouted.
"Stay here," Trevor shouted. He swiped his card on the elevator reader, it stayed silent. "You'll be safest here, no one even knows you two still exist," he said as opened the door next to the elevator.
Behind the door was a set of stairs that Trevor began racing up. There was no reason for anyone to come to the lowest level, and Trevor had deleted any references to his makeshift hidden room from any copies of the existing building plans. Racing up the stairs with the only light provided by the sirens, security cameras, and red exit signs, Trevor counted the floors. Reaching the main floor, Trevor tried the handle; it was locked, a good sign.
His and Amanda Waller's ID cards were the only ones who could open the doors if the building went into lockdown. The fact that it was locked meant who ever had bombed the building hadn't shut down the computer systems yet. By now Day and Mickelson's computer would be disconnected, their data stored safely, and their existence still a secret. A secret which was proving in real time to be more valuable than he had ever thought possible.
He continued running upstairs. He could hear shouts of panic and fear from the other side of the doors, but he didn't hear any gun shots, or explosions, or sounds of struggle. Another good sign. He ran too the fourth floor where the computer mainframes were.
He swiped his card and the door clicked open.
"Colonel Trevor!" someone shouted.
From behind the desks and chairs, tinted by the red of emergency lights, were several members of the A.R.G.U.S. team. They had hid themselves behind the desks, chairs.
"Can someone tell me what's happened?" Trevor asked.
"Someone bombed the lobby," a nervous technician said.
"Who?" Trevor asked carefully while holding his breath.
"Just some guy," said another. "Didn't get a good look at him before he blew out the camera's, but he bombed the doors open and just walked in."
Trevor clenched his teeth. "We have some of the best security in the country," he said. "Tell me how one person can set off a bomb and just walk it."
"We don't know, but he did, and was whistling while he did it."
Trevor's mind began racing. There was only one person this intruder could be; the bald man from the portal. But why come here? At first Trevor had feared the bald man would go after the President; an assassination or blackmail attempt. After all, why else come too Washington DC?
But instead the bald mean had come here, and Trevor couldn't imagine why…
It hit him like a stack of books.
"Sir?" one of the tech's asked.
"Lock down the main computer," Trevor ordered. "And hurry! We don't have much time. Upload all our data and hard drives to the secure backup server's, then delete everything here."
"But sir!" one of the tech's shouted.
"DO IT!"
They began to scramble, and Trevor ran to the nearest computer. He began typing in codes that would give all the employees access to the mainframe when another explosion ripped through the building, and the room. The blast knocked them all off their feet. Trevor was hurled to a corner in the back of the room. His eyes came into focus just in time to see several towers, monitors, and mainframe shelves come crashing down on him.
He lost his wind, and his legs burned as though they were on fire before going completely numb. Pins and needles began to flow up and down his arms, his breathing labored, and black spots began to fill his vision. It was difficult too remember where he was, but he managed to turn his head just enough to see the man, the bald man, stroll into the room.
Many of the techs had been wounded from the blast. Some were able to stand, but many were laying still, with rubble or blown computer equipment covering them. The few who were unharmed stood perfectly still, their hands in the air showing themselves to be unarmed.
A smirk appeared on the bald man's face. "Well then," he said. "This must be the place."
He walked non-chalantly past the tech's holding up their hands to show they were not resisting and were unarmed to the mainframe computer. Trevor tried moving, but his body wouldn't respond. The taste of blood seeped his mouth, and breathing was becoming harder. He tried to fight through the cloudiness, through the pain, managing just enough to focus on the bald man's voice.
"You there," the bald man said, pointing to one of the techs, a younger looking kid. He motioned with his fingers to come closer. The tech did, nervously. "I don't want to hurt anyone, well anyone else at least- understand?" the bald man asked, casually. The tech nodded, and the bald man smiled. "Good," he said, nodding. "I mean we're all on the same side, or at least we will be. Human race you know, we've only got our own back."
Though it hurt, Trevor nearly gasped. The voice, it was - familiar- but he didn't know from where.
"So then," the bald man said turning to the computer. Trevor's heart froze. "This computer, pretty important, right?" he asked.
Please, tell him no, Trevor thought, loudly.
The tech stood perfectly still. The bald man frowned.
"Come now," he said. "I know this computer is very valuable to you. It's also valuable to me. You see…" the bald man said pointing to the computer. "…I know this computer has all your information about every single member of the Meta-human community."
Trevor saw the tech swallow and say nothing, but there was enough of a change in his demeanor to confirm what the bald man had said.
"Good to know," the bald man said. "Now, why don't you be a good lad and save us all some time and trouble, and uh, enter your passwords."
The tech, who looked as though he were in his mid-twenties, hesitated. The other tech's behind him were staring wide eyed with a mix of fear and apprehension. A few moments passed, and the tech began to tremble, but otherwise did nothing. Trevor watched helplessly under his pile of rubble admiring the boy's courage, but afraid for him at the same time.
The smile faded from the bald man and he nodded sympathetically. "Alright," he said. "You're a good lad. Duty, honor, loyalty. Those qualities always seem to be in such short supply. But I've always disagreed with that you know. The problem is people just never know where to place their duty, honor, and loyalty, and that's a damn shame."
The bald man flicked his wrist, and out came a small, circular object. The object drifted towards the middle of the room with the techs and Trevor all watching. As it ascended it began to glow, and tiny spots of little lights illuminated forth from its surface accompanied by a dull hum. Then, as it began to descend, light shot forth from the ball in all directions. The techs all collapsed to the floor a moment later, tiny curls of smoke rising from their chests.
Trevor's heart chest froze, and he willed himself to stay as perfectly still as he could. Meanwhile, the bald man turned towards the computer and began typing. Taking several objects from his garments, he plugged them into several sockets and ports, one by one, while watching the monitor. Trevor could hear the hum of the fans and hard drives within the computer as it began working. He could only guess what was happening.
Soon enough, the computer stopped. The bald man replaced all the objects he' plugged into the computer back into his garments and withdrew one more. He placed it the one of the USB ports and left.
As he approached the door he pressed a button on his wrist. "Lionel here," he said. "Phase one is complete. Hopefully the rest of the mission goes as swimmingly as this one did."
"Acknowledged," said a female voice from his wrist. "Meet us at the rendezvous point, phase two and three are about to begin."
"Understood," he said. Just as he was beyond the door he stopped. "Oh, almost forgot," he said. He turned and withdrew a remote of some kind, and pressed a button.
There was another explosion, smaller than the others, but from the computer mainframe. It rattled the floor, Trevor saw another tower fall towards him, and then everything went dark.