Here we go, Chapter 9. As before, I don't own any of these characters.

Now, as to some questions regarding continuity, and precisely which Klarion I'm writing about, uhm, er, ah, I haven't a clue. Really. I suppose I'd have to say it's a cross(over?) between the comics, both classic and modern, and the animated Young Justice series, a little of this, a pinch of that, with, perhaps, some liberties taken with the characters. I hope I haven't stretched things too far for you; I certainly had fun writing it, and hope you have fun reading it. Please read and review, and, once again, I don't own any of these characters.

Klarion and Greta: The Lazarus Project, chapter 9

The Contract

At Neron's direction, Klarion walked into what appeared to be a large room of the cave, stretching, cathedral-like off into the distance, and lit by dimly phosphorescent stalactites overhead and burning braziers suspended from the walls and ceiling. On all sides were clustered row upon row of red ape-like demons, all of them weirdly silent. That alone was enough to make Klarion a bit nervous; had they been barking and roaring like the ones back in the entrance, he would've found it more normal.

But these demons were as silent as statues, gazing at him with obvious enmity, every so now and then glancing fearfully towards the far wall of the cavern.

For up against that wall was a throne, and upon that throne the demon lord Neron himself sat, scepter in hand.

In appearance, he was moderately tall, with blond hair and a somewhat stocky build, wearing a deep blue outfit with gold trim and boots. But Klarion did not let that image fool him, not for a moment; what he faced was less human than a giant squid, and infinitely more dangerous.

Klarion approached the throne, the cat around his neck. "Well, young one. I must admit, you certainly know how to make an entrance. But I have to wonder: do you battle and blast your way into everywhere you go? How do you get into a McDonald's? I should think it would have a less than positive impact on your popularity with the humans above." Neron wore a perpetual smirk, as though laughing at some private joke. All calculated, Klarion knew, to cause uncertainty in any visitor. He had to admit, although only to himself, that it sort of worked.

"I thank your Lowness, and extend my similar greetings to you. And," and here he cocked a quizzical eye at his host, "I must congratulate you. The last I heard, you were dead. Slain by Lord Satanus. In simple outward appearance, you look rather good to be a corpse."

Neron shrugged. "A minor detail. At the levels at which I operate, what humans call death is seldom more than a momentary nuisance. So. What brings you here, to my," a pause; "…illustrious," another pause, "..realm?"

Klarion shrugged. He was doing his best to maintain an air of calm, keeping to what the humans called a "poker face;" he only hoped it was working. The demons in the corridor had been almost routine by comparison. Generally speaking, preparation, experience, and skill can defeat any amount of brute strength (example: Goliath), but when facing an opponent both powerful and skilled, all bets were off. One had to play to the other's weaknesses.

And…be aware of one's own.

"I found myself in a state of boredom. One thing one can definitely say about your kingdom is, boredom is seldom an option. Plus, I am looking for someone."

Another eyebrow raise. "Oh? Some great evil-doer, no doubt? Hitler? Stalin? Attila?"

"Actually, no. The soul I seek is that of a young girl, slain, sacrificed, really, by her brother, for power."

"Ah. And that led you here?"

"It seemed like a good place to start. Have you heard of her? Her name is Greta Hayes."

Neron scratched his neck, appearing to think. "Hm. Greta Hayes."

"Yes. Whether directly or indirectly, the dispensation of power unto mortals, by means of appropriate sacrifices, does fall into your jurisdiction. So, have you heard of her?"

"Suppose, for the moment, that I have. Why should I release her to you?"

"I suppose I could continue to make a nuisance of myself…."

Neron yawned, a deliberately exaggerated gesture. "Not even close. You face the Lord of this domain now. Your spells will avail you naught."

"…Or…I could point out that, hers being a pure spirit, uncorrupted, untainted, is very probably an irritation to Your Lowness. I could offer to take her off your hands, so to speak."

Neron's smile was like oil on water. "I see you've dealt with demons before. But there is a human saying: something for something, nothing for nothing. What would you offer in exchange? What do you have to offer?"

"Hm. My soul is my own, and will stay that way, and Teekl's is not on the menu, either. Does Your Lowness have any ideas, thoughts on the matter?" While he spoke, he reached into his pocket, offhandedly, feeling for the cruciform there, and, more importantly, the object whose presence it masked. His fingers closed around it, sliding across its graven surface, feeling the peculiar tingle it gave off, careful not to let his finger go even part-way through it, and withdrew it, as casually as he could, from his pocket, appearing to finger it absent-mindedly. He hoped he showed no expression other than one of concentration and indifference; he was playing his trump card.

The black object in his hand, heavier than it looked, glittered oddly in the cavern's low lighting. Neron leaned forward, suddenly. "What is that in your hand, young one?"

"This? Oh, merely a trinket I picked up somewhere. On, if I remember correctly, the site of some great battle the humans fought a while back. Worthless, I'm sure. But fun to hold. And the craftsmanship is exquisite." He held it up to the light, examining it, and ran his finger over the carved five-rayed insignia.

Neron's face was a study in sudden eagerness. "Let me see it." Klarion held it up, careful to keep a solid grip on it, and not to thrust even a part of his finger into the ring itself. Neron looked askance at him, all traces of his smirk gone. "Is that what I think it is, young Lord?"

Klarion suppressed a sudden urge to smirk himself at the sudden change in address. Instead, as casually as he could, he replied, "If you think it is a black power ring, the weapon of choice of the Black Lantern Corps, then, yes, it is what you think it is, Lord of Hades."

Differing emotions warred for dominance in Neron's face, greed winning out. "Such an object, an actual artifact from Nekron's dimension, is far too dangerous to leave in the hands of anyone even remotely affiliated with mortals. Give it here. It will be safer here."

A-ha! His fingers closed possessively about the ring. "Not so fast, Lord of Hell. It occurs to me, this object could easily be….worth something. To someone such as yourself, for example."

Neron's expression of amused calm was gone so completely as to cause onlookers to wonder if it had ever been there. "You wish to trade the girl's soul for this bauble?"

"I do not know if you even have her soul, Prince of Perdition. Perhaps I should inquire elsewhere. Perhaps Blaze knows something. Or Lord Satanus."

Neron looked as though someone had just put a gun to his head. He had to have that ring. He was not what he once was, and the secrets it contained, an object from the very heart of the domain of one of his greatest foes, Death himself…."Wait. She is….here, in a manner of speaking. You…are correct, young Lord of Chaos," and Klarion could tell how much it hurt him to tell the truth, "in that her spirit is an irritant to me. Hence, she is not here in torment, as would usually be the case, but rather in the Elysian fields, dreaming unconsciously. Very well. Her soul, for the ring. Now give it here."

Klarion's fist didn't unclench from around the ring. "Not to be overly pragmatic, King of Hate, but there are a couple of small details to attend to. You are not called the Lord of Lies just because it makes good copy, as the humans say. How do I know the girl is even here?"

"Do you wish me to have her brought here, to you? It shall be done."

"And what assurances do I have that what I see will be naught but an illusion? Not meaning any undue impertinence, but your word alone is scarcely sufficient, as I believe you can understand."

Neron leaned back in his throne. "Then it seems we are at an impasse, young Lord. You have no reason to trust me, and I've none to trust you."

Klarion appeared to consider. "There may be a way. Is Your Lowness familiar with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?"

"Myth? Do you want to meet them? Three doors down, first cell on your left." Neron gestured towards a dimly lit hallway, off to his left. "But I see your point. You propose a conditional exchange, a contract, then? In a like manner?"

"Yes. If I uphold my end of the bargain, continuing on out of the cave, without looking back—"

Neron held up a finger. "Neither you nor your cat."

"…Nor Teekl, looking back, and proceed fully into the mortal realm, with Greta, body and soul, then, at that moment, we both get what we desire."

"You will give me the ring?"

"I will give you the ring in my pocket." And, with that, he slipped the ring back into his pocket.

The demon lord considered. "And…if you fail…"

"Then we shall both be yours." Klarion hoped he wasn't perspiring visibly.

Neron appeared to be satisfied. "Very well." Then he surprised Klarion by leaning forward, an intense expression on his face. "One question, and you will answer honestly: why are you doing this, young Lord? You stand to lose much, and gain…what?"

Klarion shifted uncomfortably. It was a question he'd been dancing around for quite some time. "Greta does not belong here…"

The figure on the throne grunted. "Debatable. But that isn't what I asked you. Is it?"

Klarion started to think Damn you, Neron, but realized the redundancy of the thought. "No disrespect intended, but I see no reason to impart that information to you, O King of Hate. I do not think you would understand."

Neron looked at him as though scrutinizing him down to the molecular level (which he probably was), and nodded slowly. "Perhaps not. But the question remains. And you will answer it to yourself….sooner or later. And, sooner or later, you will be honest, if only to yourself." Klarion didn't have any good response to that.

With that, Neron made certain passes with his scepter, spoke certain words it was painful for Klarion to hear. And Klarion made certain passes and spoke certain words in return. Such a bargain as they were now conducting actually possessed a life of its own, independent of the twain who made it. For that reason alone, it would be fair to both parties. Unmercifully fair, should one fail to uphold his end.

And then, with Neron making no obvious move, all throughout the cathedral-like chamber, there was a sense of motion, as though the entire chamber was rotating, somehow. He pointed with his scepter back the way Klarion had come. "Proceed. The trial begins now."