Another chapter, another round of wondering what is going on. I know that it's evil. But I'm evil, so it works out. :D

Thank you to all of those who've been reading. Cookies to those who reviewed. (And not M'gann's cookies, because I'm not that evil. Yet.)

Now for my warnings of this chapter:
-Another couple is revealed in this chapter. However, I'm not sure how everyone takes this couple. If you've read "Eden" (another one of my crazy stories) you should know the couple. If you don't, and you get down to the part where it's revealed and hate it, either you continue on or you can stop. I won't be offended. But I promise you that there is an actual point in the grand plot of this story that involves the couple. I did not throw in this pairing for the hell of it.
-Apparently, "pyroead" is the name of fire nymphs. Not sure how accurate it is, but I needed a name for this guy here, so... Pyroead :)

Remember, there's a reason that I don't own Young Justice: something like this would have happened.

Enjoy!


July 11, 5:34 PM
Happy Harbor

Nymph had thought that the name of the mountain was lifeless-

(not like us)

-the first time she heard it. Out of all of the names that the Justice League could have come up with for the first base, they had named it Mount Justice. It was unoriginal and fell off of her tongue as cinder blocks. Even the Watchtower had a title sounded better than the mountain's name. It was a pointless thing for her to ponder over, but it had stayed with her all of the years.

She had only been into the original headquarters once in her life. It was back at the time where she was in a wheelchair.

(still out fight)

Her boss-

(poor Bruce)

-had taken her there with the others. No one else had occupied the numerous caves; it was the holiday season and the other heroes had families and friends and illusions to keep up. Their tour was extensive, even delving into the dark corners that the rest of the superheroes did not know to exist. But they were trusted. They knew each other's secrets.

(died together)

It only made sense that their fates afterwards were tied together in the complex knot. They survived the world, only to get their revenge together. And even the situation that they were buried beneath was not separation. The League had simply delayed the killing.

Her steps were quiet as her eyes searched the darkness. Lampads did not leave the clues that they had hoped for. His paranoia, in either version of his existence, had only gone so far. He could have not planned on every moment.

But he had planned far enough to begin their searches.

"Red Tornado, if only you weren't such a fool." Her muttered words filled the air ahead of her path. Memories created mere minutes ago came back to flood her conscience. It was not meant to haunt her, but to entertain. "A broken record just saying the same old thing. Restriction... restriction. A meaningless word. We want our answers. We want Father and our siblings."

(revenge)

Somewhere amongst the rough walls, there was a silent call. It was a harsh whisper that filled her head. She could hear the breathless sleep of all of the bodies, but only one was worth anything to her. The others were simply corpses, waiting for nothing in the preserving fluid they were drowning in. Their purpose, in both life and death, had been fulfilled.

It was the one of dead heartbeat that interested her.

Muse stepped behind her. The sound of her footsteps was as foreign as Nymph's in the cave. However, hers did not press against the walls demanding freedom. They were simply following the path laid in front of them.

"I am surprised that Lampads had thought so far ahead," she muttered softly. Her thoughts did not go to the captured android. "He did not know the full extent of our future, yet he had it all ready for us to find."

"He guarantees victory. Anything less would mean no justice." Nymph allowed the last word to stale the air before adding, "His justice, at least."

Muse nodded. "My husband will get his retribution."

"Of course, Mother." Her steps became strides as the voice became louder. It was unaware of the simple fact that its owner was unconscious, blissfully unaware that the love-

(forbidden)

-it was dreaming of was hidden away. She could only imagine was the surface of his anger would be when he found out the truth. Anything beyond that would have destroyed her mind farther than death ever could.

The cave ended before the voice could grow louder. Her hand laid again the brown stone, indifferent to the cold feeling beneath her fingers. "A neglected spot for the grave. How... unfitting."

The older woman nodded. Her dark eyes seemed to look through the barrier. "My sons never deserved this." The words were hissed out angrily, tainting the cold air of the cave. The poison within them would have killed even the android if he had been amongst them.

"Son," Nymph whispered back gently. A bubble of fear pressed her stomach, but stayed contained. "The other one is not here."

"And where-"

"I won't be able to tell, Mother. You know that." Unsaid words filled the rest of the conversation. They both knew that Pyroead was different than the others. His feelings were outspoken, in death and in life. Even the traps of his own mind could not contain his emotions. It was the only thing that allowed Nymph to hear him.

Muse's hand came to the rock htat served as a teasing barrier. As Nymph retreated, she could hear the shaky breath of the other. A pulse of energy followed the end of the motion. The air became rigid, freezing Nymph's body in a powerful hold. The fear that the younger had when she first saw the woman after death had settled came back. There was something about her power that went unsaid amongst the two children who managed to escape. It was pure power.

The rock shattered under Muse's hand. What little remained-

(sand dust)

-fell to the ground in a pathetic looking pile. Some of the dust gathered in the air, filling the space with its earth tone. It settled on its own accord, unaware of the raw power that could have destroyed its existence with little regret. Behind the ruins darkness emerged. There was something about the shadows that reminded Nymph of the one city that defined her life and death.

Another aura fell into place, sitting against the large metal containers that were lying down against the ground. It beckoned them like a child would. Unlike the rest of the small chamber, there was a distinct human feel to the containers. They were-

(coffin shaped)

-half cylindrical, while the bottom portion was made of a rectangular block. The lighting gave them an almost mirror-like quality. What little was able to enter the cave glowed as it touched them. There was nothing to distinguish them from one another.

(or a thousand)

Nymph pointed to each one in turn, counting them slowly. "Only five. Four corpses, dead and unaware."

"How?" Muse's voice was shaking. Any sort of calmness that should have been there was lost. Nymph had known that Muse had yet to see what the rest of them did on the endless nights that came, one after another. The woman had missed the tainting of their souls in those nights.

There was a darkness that came from the hours full of rooftops and fights. Muse had missed it all. Muse had something that the others had lost, yet she was losing it herself.

Nymph shrugged. "They're dead, Mother. They are not like us. Most likely, they had died of causes outside their control and allowed the Justice League to use their corpses for their own needs." As an afterthought, she added, "Many give their whole existence to things that they believe in."

"Pitiful."

(old selves would do the same)

The words that the younger woman could have said died in her mouth. The past was poisonous. There was nothing in those memories captured into words that would have made the pain any duller. Death had done what it could. Time had followed afterwards. They could not erase the scar.

"Which one is he in?" Muse's eyes gazed over the metallic surfaces. The calmness in her voice returned, which was only all the more startling for the other. The sadness in the dark eyes was her only answer. It took Nymph a moment to realize that the woman was mourning the others. It mattered not that they were someone else's children: Muse had suffered too much to ignore others with a brush of her hand.

(yet revenge)

Nymph's eyes fell close. The world collapsed into darkness. There was nothing there to save her-

(drowning burning burying suffocating)

-from whatever awaited her. It was fitting. After all, she had been left for death to claim. Her family could not help her because of fate's intervening hand. People she could have called friends were ignorant-

(no bliss)

-of it all.

And the ones that should have done something failed to care.

In the darkness, there was a single strand of something in the nothingness. It flared with boldness that could kill without a second thought. Unlike the body that housed it, it was aware of the silence. It wanted blood, revenge, love, and everything that it was being denied. It knew the grievances that lay against it. There was nothing within it that cared about life in general. The secret that sat in front of them all was the definition of its existence: life was not as everlasting as it.

It was all that was currently left of Pyroead.

(depressing)

"The second container from the left." The statement lacked any sort of emotion. She could not afford any of it now, just when the return of the rest of the family was beginning. The core of her bring had hid in the playfulness and raging emotions. They were only beginning to turn into a single blend. But until the moment was needed, she would keep both sides.

Muse nodded once before kneeling next to the container. Her hand rested against the metal. For a brief moment, Nymph could feel the-

(cold no answers pain why sons daughter husband where)

-emotions coursing through the other woman. Grief had stuck against her own feelings, piercing her mask of slight indifference. Her legs feel under their burden, bending at the knees just enough to send her collapsing to the ground. Her fists met the stone floor. The dust that littered around was scattered within the air. Tears poured out of her eyes. They gathered at her chin before falling to the ground.

Muse blinked. Her body drew away from the container, yet her hand never left the metallic surface. "I'm sorry. My emotions-"

"They are your own business, Mother." Nymph's voice came out as steady as it had been merely a moment before. The sudden invasion of the other's emotions and thoughts, while not altogether unexpected, threw her off. They were strong, contained by Muse's mask. There was a sense of tragedy within the whole of the other's existence. "I apologize for not keeping my shields up."

Something cold in the dark eyes materialized as Muse nodded. The anger that hid in them was not meant for the woman. Unlike Dryad, the eldest woman of the group kept her anger. She did not attack her children because of mere emotions. Any use of her power was for the lone purpose of finding the rest of her family. If harm must come to others that stood in her way, she would kill. It was simple for her.

Muse turned back to her task. Like the stone, the metal fell to the wave of energy. Shards fell around the body drenched in a liquid that was thicker than water but just as clear. The liquid spilled against the ground and the other containers, pooling at Muse's knees. The outskirts of the stretching puddle reached Nymph's boots, glistening in the limited light.

It was the body that held both of their gazes. The teenager was close to being a young man in physical appearance, although there was something in his appearance that suggested that he passed that age mentally a long time ago. Scars marred his chest. Some overlapped and joined to one mass of discolored skin. The muscles were like a separate entity: they were larger than an average human's, yet no where near a size that other heroes possessed. The face was the centerpiece of the figure. A scowl had been carved into the features, never leaving the unconscious face for a moment. The dark hair was astray from the liquid, a single lock of white hair at the widow's peak resting against his forehead.

It was as peaceful as Nymph had ever seen the other. To keep the boy in such a way would be a sin against him.

She submerged herself in darkness again. The single strand of emotions was livelier than before, yet paled in comparison to what it should have been. Her mind sent out a single name. Out of them all, it was the single name that was the key.

(Sylph)


October 30, 10:59 PM
Gotham City

He had been wishful. There had been a voice in the back of his mind telling him to be otherwise. It whispered about reality, luck, and Gotham. It had whispered what was most likely to be the truth of the situation.

That was what turned him away from the voice. It was the simple, painful truth.

His wrists were touching behind his back, a film of sticky blood slipping in between the space. The rope was digging harshly against the other areas. Even his costume could not protect him, as there were large rips littering the black and red. Most of the exposed skin was covered in his own blood. He reasoned that what areas remained hidden were riddled with bruises. The lack weight pulling at his waist, where his belt usually sat, only made the weight of the situation pull at him more.

He felt only one thing going in his favor: his red domino mask kept any emotion hidden. While his lips were twisted in the frown that sat on his face most of his life, his eyes had all of the emotion. If it were not for Bruce-

(Dad)

-there would not have been the white lenses that hid his soul from the world. It kept him to himself as he watched the seconds slip by on the digital counter.

Jason Todd Wayne had less than a minute to live.

The Joker had chosen an inopportune time to not take up a cliché. The bomb sitting upon a crate was set to go off at eleven. There was no time for Jason to summon his willpower to overcome shattered bones and bleeding body. There was no time for the rest of his family-

(gone dead too late)

-to save him at the last possible second like every other time. There was no time for him to save his family. He had already failed Dick.

There was only time to wish for peace in death and revenge in life.

A ghost of a memory overcame his mind. His ears rang with Dick's laughter, faded from the adrenaline still running in Jason's veins. The memory was the two of them, sharing their bed in the deep recesses of the Wayne Manor. It had been the younger two of the family that startled their sleep. Artemis had a smirk upon her lips, while Tim's was hidden behind the camera. A pink bow had captured some of Jason's hair. Somewhere in his rage, he knew that the adults were laughing somewhere in the mansion.

Dick was laughing too. That made everything alright.

(sorry for failing)

The timer was dropping faster than it seemed to have before. The taste of blood in Jason's mouth spiked, becoming more metallic to him. There was a bitter undercurrent to it as well.

(why couldn't they Justice League doesn't care hypocrites)

He spent a few seconds boiling over the one group that could have saved the family. Then he stopped. Revenge could wait until after death. Those thoughts were not worth his last precious seconds alive.

His sight had focused on the timer. The last remaining seconds passed by, and he never drew his sight away from the clock. He wanted to see his own end. A fiery death, fitting the one who wore red upon black. The one who had grown from a child trying to survive by stealing the hub caps off of the Dark Knight's car.

It was the remains of that child who died first from the bomb. The rest of him came quickly after.


July 11, 5:59 PM
Washington DC

Kon's knowledge of the family was made up of stories and photos. Nymph gave him memories that were not his own, but better than any of the ones that were actually his. Dryad had called it ironic.

There was comfort for Kon in the small portion of what was once the proud Bat family. It was all he had in the world he had just joined. While the others were kind, the family was closer. It was all that mattered.

The clone could feel his indifference in his power. The metal had fallen into pieces when his fist impacted against the cold surface. Shards flew around him, sparking from the pure energy behind the attack. The lights danced in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. There was some rage in the scowl that was contorted onto his face, but it was not his own. It was borrowed.

(Dryad)

Fear from his new opponents-

(once friends not sure anymore not lies indifference)

-had tainted the air. He had yet to land an actual attack on any of them, but there was something in him that sent the others scurrying. They had injured themselves in their panic. Blood was smeared against stone and metal. It made the whole area appear darker. It was almost home for Kon.

That was when he came.

The young man had made up stories of rage and emotion. He was untamed by social rules or cares of others. It was something that Kon could find within himself. Somewhere in the stories that filled his nights away from his supposed team, he had grown jealous. This other person had received the love that the clone was denied from his biological father, despite being almost the same. The family had taken the other in without a second thought. It was something Kon understood, yet was an alien to.

Kon's lover turned his head slightly. His pale blue eyes danced in the remains of the fire that charred the hole burned within the stone and metal. He seemed bored with the presentation of power, yet there was a glint of surprise.

"Pyroead." The name slipped into the air, pausing any other action. The heads of the other teenagers in the large room turned towards the newcomer. He was clad in a black jumpsuit, not unlike the others, but it was obvious that it had been hastily thrown on. His hair was in the same, disorderly style. A single lock of white hair sat against his forehead.

"Dryad." The burning blue eyes sat on the Young Justice team before wandering to the fallen figure-

(Superman)

-on the ground. His eyes darted to follow the blood that had begun to trail away from the body. "Where's-"

"Sylph?" The younger of the two-

(age matter in death?)

-shrugged slightly. "I only guessed bodies were at Mount Justice. I did not expect you to be there. As for the others… Let us say that luck will need to be on our side if we expect to find them soon."

The frown on Pyroead's mouth fell even more. "Can I trust you to even find him?"

"You ask such stupid questions at the wrong time, Pyroead. If you have yet to notice, I was in the middle of kidnapping one of the children." With a lazy wave of his arm, Dryad brought their attention back to Young Justice. The team had been frozen stiff as if they had no will to move. "Hm. I did not expect your presence to be like Nymph's. Did you bring-"

"Her dagger." A flash of metal flipped through the air before Pyroead caught it by the very tip of the blade. Light danced off of the polished metal while highlighting the matte metal that made up the rest. "I'm surprise she was the one who got this little baby. Of course, if these fuckers hadn't-"

"I suspect that you stopped them so we can talk, not to inform them of… our situation." The frown was evident in the tone. "Would it not be better for the League to admit their mistakes?"

There was a brief look that passed between the two. The pale blue eyes met the flaming blue ones and stayed there with a focus that made Dryad look-

(sane)

-serious. Something was passed between the two as the seconds slipped by. They had no need for words between them: they had suffered through too much, and a silent language had developed from the pain.

"…fine. Take your pet and go." The dagger flipped through the air again, possessing a rigid manner that matched its current holder. "I only want one of them, right?"

"If you can handle that." Dryad turned to the hole that Pyroead had stepped out of, eyeing it carefully. What had remained of the flames had died down on their own, leaving only a warm glow to the outlines. The clone could see that similar holes had been scarred into the walls behind it. The trail ended the same time the building did, leaving no guess work for the amount of wreckage the other created. "Let's go, Kon."

The words came as a request, but he carried them out as if it were a command. It was out of Kon's wished to act in the robotic manner in front of the others. They did not have to question their identity. That was literally handed to them through the social interactions they had partaken in since they were young. But he had simply been dragged into the world-

(Dryad dragged me freed me)

-and had to start where others did when they were too young to remember. The others could not define him enough. Superman had not even wanted him to exist. It had been Dryad, Nymph, and Muse that gave him a purpose. It was only fair for him to repay them with his existence.

"Does is matter which of your… friends I get, kid?" Pyroead barely glanced at him as he asked. How the fire being had known about his connections to the others-

(anything at all)

-was somewhat lost on the clone. A voice in him whispered about the young woman amongst the group. Her powers could have easily remedied lost time with a single thought.

There was only one way Kon could bring himself to answer the question. It was a painful reminder to the immobilized teenagers, but it was needed. Revenge was far from his mind. He had not harbored anger at the others for what they already had. Jealousy was far too common for him to exact pain upon another for that reason alone. But a simple reminder of what he suffered was enough for them all to move on.

(am I sorry)

"They're not my friends."


November 12, 5:00 PM
Gotham City

He had thought he was a mess in comparison to the rest of the city. There were many dark corners and alleys that served as the black holes. He had fallen into every one of them, only to escape with part of what little light remained in him gone. It was taxing and he was addicted to it.

It had come as a shock when those nights were suddenly replaced. Less than two weeks had separated his life from his life in death. The darkness was not only home to the likes of him. It was his very existence. Being a part of it made the world appear a little friendlier than it should have felt in the gothic city.

That was before he peaked into the darkness of a lone apartment.

The man had an appearance that added more decades to his middle aged years. His whole posture had fallen at the weight of the death of his daughter. There was no body for him to mourn, despite the sheer amount of blood that was gathered from the scene. Batman had failed to show up since that night, leaving his symbol hanging in the night air constantly. There were no answers. Instead, the darkness of the city had continued to grow.

Even the deaths that righted the wrongs did nothing.

His own footsteps against the small metal railing did nothing to stir the other man. There was a bottle of some hard liquor sitting besides him, ready to accompany the man into another night of illusion-filled reality. A glass filled his right hand, changing the contours meant to hold a gun.

"Hello Commissioner Gordon."

Even Pyroead-

(just Jason two weeks)

-could not understand why the words fell out of his mouth. But they came out as smoothly as night had to the city.

The man broke from his sightless glare. Cracks in his aura grew into gaping holes as his head turned. His lips trembled as the words spilled out and fell heavily into the air. "You're… dead."

Pyroead's wit found an answer before he was able to comprehend the words. "They never found a body, so who knows?"

"But the butler-"

"Alfred can be trusted in the family. The rest of the world… who can say?" The truth of the confusion became slightly more apparent to the younger man: Joker had killed Red Hood. But Jason Todd Wayne had mysteriously died with the rest of his family a day or two later.

(protected in death)

"But I'm not here about me." The statements continued to tumble out of his mouth without any consideration. It was as if someone was using him as a puppet without his realization.

(could have asked)

(I apologize child)

"I was… sent here to see you." He mentioned nothing of the darkness that had pulled him in. It was not sinister like the corners and edges of the streets and minds. Rather, it reeked of something that even death did not have. "After all, who would be suffering the most now that the Waynes are gone? Surely not the Commiss-"

"I resigned. Quit." The older man's answers were clipped. Whatever mask they were attempting to hold over his emotions had failed.

"You're not drunk yet. Your answers should be a bit better, considering that I came all the way from Hell to see you." When he did not receive an answer in return, Pyroead sighed. "Even Batman couldn't save his kids. Why do you think he's gone?"

"You mean…" Dawn emerged on the darkened face. "Batgirl and… and Robin…"

"And Nightwing and Red Hood. We're all his children." Whether the information given to the other would be the final piece needed to identify the face behind the cowl did not matter. After all, they were all dead. "He failed to rescue us. And he died trying after he failed."

"Dead. Hmph." The glass suddenly shattered in Gordon's hand. "And the city with him."

"Don't be too bitter, Commissioner. He tried to save your precious girl too. She was the first amongst us." As the thoughts came together for the other, Pyroead continued on. "Batman would have given his life for hers. She was as much as his child as we were."

"And he failed."

"Failed us all, Commissioner. Don't feel so bad."

(if only we could have been of use)

(Fate says otherwise)

The shards of what remained of the glass glittered against the kitchen light. It was the only thing that brightened up the kitchen, despite the overhanging light bulb. The liquor glowed by itself. There was a whisper that accompanied it, full of sweet illusions and lies to get one through the night. It sickened Pyroead slightly.

"Listen, things are… going to get worse. And an… we'll call her an angel for the time being. Well, chick wants to see you. All you have to do is just sit there for a second. Got that?"

The words were coming too easily out of his mouth. He knew what would happen next, yet it seemed too much in line with the rest of the universe. His eyes glanced at the scenery that was laid out before him, looking for an answer. The glint of metal blades called out. There was also a duller whisper amongst the objects litter about the room. It was the peace that it brought that settled everything.

(not my fire)

If Gordon even heard the words, he made no sign of it. The weight of the burden that Pyroead found himself with lightened slightly. The man was dead in all definitions of the word except the literal one. It was pitiful for a man like Jim Gordon to be trapped in such a way.

(free him)

He grabbed the gun in a fluid motion and pulled the trigger with another. The commissioner barely moved as the bullet entered his skull, leaving a trail burrowed within. There were no words on his lips or anger in the man's eyes. His body had seized up out of habit. A trickle of blood slipped out of his dying body before he collapsed.

"Thank you."

"Nymph." Pyroead placed the gun against the table. His blue eyes never left the warm corpse, which had taken to the ground upon its collapse. "Was this supposed to be-"

"No. Not my job." A lone figure removed herself under the shadows of the doorway to the hall. Her presence in the room was almost invisible. "I'm glad that you were the one to come, Pyroead."

(could have been Bruce)

"Don't thank me, crazy bitch." He eyed the window, wondering if the echo of the gunshot would attract any attention. "He was already dead."


July 11, 6:15 PM
Washington DC

Fire. It was everywhere because of him.

M'gann watched as the twisted smirk grew. His eyes flashed with its own blaze, dancing as he looked around at the destruction. Another ball of fire materialized slightly above his hand. Another scream was slipping out of her lips. Her throat was hoarse from the sheer amount that she emitted since he had arrived. If she had had the capacity to, she would have screamed more.

"You know what really bothers me?" The man's voice swept over the crackling flames that had consumed part of the headquarters. "Everyone told us we had a choice after death. They acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world!"

Roy's anger came bubbling through the destruction. It managed to drown out the pain of the others littered across the building. Her own blood boiled as she felt his strong presence in her emotions. While he was in another corner of the room, his words whispered against her mind as if he was right next to her.

(not my own love hatred death)

Her other teammates were not fairing as well as the human amongst them. Kaldur had burns running across his arms. The tattoos were hidden amongst his injuries. The speedster had blood dripping against his bright costume, running against the yellow and red while the battle continued. Both of them were breathing heavily. They had a desperate will to fight, and nothing more.

"But they never died the way we did. And they were so close to preventing it." The sentence slipped out as a graceful whisper. "So… so close."

The fireball smashed against the manmade wall with an impact that shook the building. Behind the flame was a sheer amount of power. It was destructive. Uncaring, even. But not as beautiful as she had heard others describe such situations. There was nothing there that she could find with beauty. It was all rigid with destruction and blood, tainted with darkness.

(course beautiful)

The other voice was louder in the presence of the others. It was as if the voice was her own mind, singing out to her with advice. There was a corruptive edge to it that the Martian had been trying to ignore for the past week, yet there was something else…

(I am)

"M'gann!"

The warning came too late. Another shriek arose from her throat as the fire came towards her shaking body. The seconds gave it size. The man gave it power. It gave her little chance of succeeding in any kind of escape while leaving the rest of it to failure. Death was breathing down her part of her neck-

(death life)

-with a scythe against the other portion.

But the fire did not aim for her directly: a mere foot away from her it diverged into eight points. They slipped around her as if their target was behind her. The heat emitted tickled her skin with burning warmth. There was a relief under her fear, telling her brain that everything was-

(illusions)

-alright.

It was short lived.

"No! M'gann!" Kaldur's voice was as cracked as her own. It was only the desperation that carried it through as the cage completed itself behind her. There was only enough room for her to stand as she was. Anything else was beyond her capabilities. Even her shaking was limited by the fear that infected her.

The smirk that adorned the man's face pulled more at the corners. "These powers make so much trouble. The second I lose focus… Well, who knows? I could just kill her. And believe me, that's best case scenario."

"Jason." The name came out cool and crisp in the foreign tongue. Accompanying it was the other presence that was stronger than she could remember.

(not like mine)

Her uncle's voice was a comfort in the disorder. While the name was an Earth one that she had yet to comprehend, there was something in the other Martian's voice that made it clearer. The man was an enemy. The man was once a friend. The whole battle was only a confusion that had overtaken them. The others-

(dead ones)

-were good deep down. It was only a matter of reminding them who they were.

(remember pain betrayal death

left us

anger

family suffering

else is there?)

The fiery trap cursed out against her. Something rushed through her blood, awakening her weakened body with a burst of energy. Suddenly her brain was looking for the nonexistent escape from the world. The prison reacted violently to the hinting the thoughts gave to the air. A flame brushed against her skin, daring her thoughts to try and challenge its power.

(maintain must stay

green)

Something within her started to fight her mind. She wanted to believe that it was the other voice, not ready to lose her to the incoming thoughts of freedom. It would have made more sense than the truth to the girl. It would mean that the betrayal was not her fault and, rather, it was a hostile outside force.

(lies)

But the truth was the thing to come out. Her body found itself stressed by the flames. It registered a hostile force just ready to take her life away. The biological, automatic response was understandable. It wanted to protect her to survive another day. While the Martian's mind screamed against it with defeat filling the mental voice, her body changed.

(truth)

M'gann could feel J'onn's eyes upon her changing form. Despite the fire, he kept a steady gaze on her. Some part of him might have guessed a false truth: she was desperate to live and that alone allowed her to change. But truth was not so kind to either or them.

The other man-

(Uncle called his Jason)

(Pyroead)

-tilted his head slightly. His blue eyes danced even more with the change while his smirk turned vicious. "Who knew? Second chances to some and not to us. Unless you didn't know yourself. That just makes the girl all the better of a prize."

(couldn't be green)

(matters?)

"Alien got your tongue? Pity. I wanted to rip it out myself." The pyro's tongue tasted his upper lip in indication of his hunger of blood. While the truth of his motives was not altered, the air suddenly grew rigid. Even the fire grew tame with the silent proclamation.

It was Wally who managed to mutter the tense question. "What... What's going on M'gann?"

"Crash course: She's a White Martian. You know, the aliens that invaded and were the reason for the creation of the Justice League all those years ago." The news came out with a bored glee. "Dad never understood everything about it. I always told him it was 'alien racism' but hey, I've been wrong before."

The words stung, passing her chaotic mind into her heart. There were always elements that she herself did not understand. She could not explain the war away or justify motives. She had only been a child amongst the soldiers when they were awakened. There was nothing amongst the battle plans that gave her access to reasons or understanding. There was only war and bloodshed spoken.

(condemned)

(escape where?)

(no where)

"Hm. Let's hit the pause button, shall we?" The annoying familiar sense of lost control filled her original form. The cage disappeared as the light played off of the lone blade amongst them. The minds of the others fell into a false peace.

(Uncle)

Even Roy's rage was quelled.

"I have two options. Either leave the girl here or take her. I'm not really interested in any of the rest of you- Well, maybe lil' Speedy over there, but that's for later. If I leave her here, I suspect drama and hate and questions and eventual mandatory hugging fest. Always seems mandatory with Leaguers and all. But taking her away…" His free hand met his hip in the manner of a smirk. "Well, that just opens another can of worms."

(such a tease)

"I think that just answered itself. I'll let you assholes regroup and heal." An afterthought followed almost immediately. "Yeah, Dryad did some crazy shit so you all will wake up tomorrow alive. He thinks that death is nothing compared to a tortured life." There was a lazy shrug that followed the words. No questions of the other man's choice arose from the action, making it as absolute as M'gann's fate. "And next time we meet, J'onn, tell me if she's worth saving, 'kay?"

And darkness settled over her mind.

(death would have been a mercy)


July 11, 11:59 PM
Gotham City

Pyroead allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimness that engulfed the caverns. Time had done little to the physical appearance. The others, however, had altered the mood that sat in the air. The darkness was not the same that occupied the space when there had been more present. There was certainly a gloomy characteristic to it all, but the young man could feel something more. Something...

(dead)

The only thing that attempted to fill the emptiness was the soft footsteps created in front of him. Muse had taken to pacing the corridor with a look upon her face. It reeked of no emtion, but there was something deeper in the eyes that said otherwise. The echoes that filled the cave followed the same suit. There was nothing else that indicated anything different about her from the several months that had separated them. It had fallen into place the way it always did between them. It had worked the same way the family had.

"Whatever you're thinking about won't be solved like this, Mom." Unlike the others, Pyroead found comfort in referring to the other by the less formal title. Dryad would have done the same rather than follow Nymph. They all would have been informal. But things changed with time. Nothing could go back to the way it should have been for them.

(alive)

"Solving should be the least of my concerns," she muttered back. Her footsteps halted as she continued to speak. "You brought me back a lovely pet, Pyroead. But why not keep the Martian for yourself?"

"No need. She is better off with you."

(death too kind)

"You're waiting for Sylph." There was a knowing tease buried in Muse's words. "I think he will be flattered."

"Probably," he agreed, tossing the word carelessly in his mouth. "He finds his pleasure in small things."

(even death)

"You may call them small, Pyroead. Birth into darkness makes it so. But he was born in spotlights and love," she reminded him gently. Her footsteps settled only a small distance away from him, her attention shifted elsewhere.

He continued her game by ending it. "But that was not what you were thinking about."

(revenge consumes her)

"I have a request of your time." Muse glanced at Pyroead. Her dark eyes said more than her words, yet concealed just as much. It might have been the sole reason why Pyroead had taken to be in her company rather than the other two. She didn't fake insanity. "Your siblings are tracking down the others. I now have my own pet. But you-"

"Don't sugar coat it. I'll be happy to do it Mom. Just ask away."

"Very well. There's a young man on the Young Justice team. I've taken an interest into his personal life. Something about it reeks of rotten devotion to some lovers. I wish for more information about the situation before I make any judgment."

"Lemme guess: guy's name begins with R and ends with oy. Sound about right?" He could not pretend to care for the other. The archer was unfriendly to most of the family, even in the duration of a brief fling between him and the eldest Robin. There had been a cold fury that settled amongst the children, demanding answers for undeserved emotions. "I'm surprised that the other two haven't killed him yet."

"They knew you wanted his heart for what be had done to Sylph. And do not forget about Kon: he is one of us."

A chuckle filled the damp air. "I see myself in that kid. He reeks of death."

"He is dead."

The statement did nothing to clear the smirk off of Pyroead's mouth. "I figured as much. I actually expect that our little Dryad meant to let the kid die and be done with it all."

"Love works in ways unexpected." Her voice was laced with memories. "Things worked together for us."

"Hm." Agreement was almost mandatory. He knew the effects of love upon others. There was something about it that made the hellish conditions tolerable. "Do you have any idea who his lovers are?"

"No. The only thing that can limit the search is that he finds them attractive, from what I can understand." There was a subtle hint of frustration hiding within the words. She did not waste any anger on the thought.

"Let it not be said that Roy was equal opportunity for anybody he could screw into a wall." He paused for a second before allowing a question to be brought into the air. "Are you expecting him to survive this ordeal if he learns?"

A gentle smile replied back. "Of course not. I am just curious to his habits. You will be deciding his fate no matter what comes to light."

"Me?" Chuckles erupted from his lifeless frame. "The victim is the jury-

(revenge defines us)

-Mom. I'm just the executioner."

(will paint them all in death)


Now for actual end notes:
-The thoughts in bold during Pyroead's second flashback? Definitely another voice. :D
-I took liberties with the fact that M'gann's a White Martian. (Aren't they supposed to melt in the sun? That's the only thing I learned from Justice League Animated.) J'onn didn't know the truth because of deception and my need for scarring character with drama. It's a gift.

And the next character chapter... eh, I'll leave you guessing.