A/N: Oh! I forgot to mention in my last update note! This story, "JLA: Necessary Force", recently won a fanfic award! (at the 2008 WFAs - World's Finest Awards on Livejournal.) It won in the category of BEST GEN story! beams I was terribly surprised, and very honoured and humbled to be both nominated in the first place, (particularly since this is still a Work In Progress) and then absolutely floored to actually win the award! Sure, it's only a little fanfic award, but still! It is a lovely, lovely thing to be so recognized, no matter how small, especially since I've worked awfully hard on this particular story, and for so many years. Just had to share that with you wonderful folks over here at ! I hope you find it worthy of such an honour!
- Pax :-)
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Title: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 8: "In the Teeth of It" (2nd Half)
Author: Paxwolf
Fandom: JLA/Justice League
Rating: PG-13 (R in parts)
Disclaimer: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the JLA are all owned by DC Comics/Time Warner. No money being made here, folks! Original Characters owned by me, though, I suppose. :-)
Thanks and Credits: Please see Part 1 or Previous Part for all Beta and other help and acknowledgements!
Special Thanks to: the real' Gunter Czerwinski, and the lovely Marianne Czerwinski, for all their help with my German in this chapter. Danke!
Warnings: Mature Situations, Language, Violence - (oh, and more Foreign Language Alert!)
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
Summary of This Part: Our heroes start to realize the mammoth scale of Lord Ayestrom's designs, and Superman is less than impressed with his host's hospitality.
JLA
"Necessary Force"
by Paxwolf
Part VIII
(2nd half):
"In the Teeth of It"
The four of them entered an ancient-looking freight elevator, Superman's captors none too gentle in their manhandling. The female commander nodded and the two sentries pushed Superman against one wall, and forced his head against the cold metal, shielding the control panel from his view. As the old lift began its descent, they pulled him around to stand in the centre. He was careful not to resist, and not to say anything they could possibly construe as being out of the norm for someone of his status. He only hoped they continued to buy his act.
They passed the next floor, and descended still further, dropping down into the base proper, until the lift finally came to a jarring halt on a level that had to be far below the ground. The cage was shoved up, and the party emerged into a huge, cavernous space that had been clearly hewn straight out of solid rock, and wasn't cemented like the basement levels above had been. Superman raised his eyebrows silently in surprise.
The place was bigger than several aircraft hangers combined. He hadn't been able to see down this far at all, even with his vision.
"Get moving, Verstinki!"
The mercenaries guffawed at their insult, and Superman was pushed unceremoniously out of the lift at his pause, and then roughly hauled along a worn stone pathway. He made no protest at his rough treatment, and mostly tried to keep his head down while surreptitiously observing as much as he could.
He saw right away that it would have been exceedingly difficult to steal undetected into this hidden level, which he'd noted hadn't even been indicated on the control panel of the freight elevator. The woman had activated some sort of belt control to direct the thing. Guards were everywhere, posted at every entrance, every elevator and ladderway, alertly patrolling the area, armed to the teeth, and brooking no disputes.
"I sincerely hope your overseer gives you a damned good flogging, gutter rat," one of his guards said again, the leer once more in place. "It's been a good while since we've been so entertained."
With an effort, Superman held his tongue, swallowing the first words that leapt to his lips, and continued to shuffle along, trying his best to appear feeble and ill. He made sure he looked as if he had absolutely no interest in his surroundings, or his fate, while at the same time, taking as much in as he could.
They passed a great many more of the underground inhabitants than he had yet seen, but unlike the ones he'd watched in the upper levels, these were much more raggedly dressed, and uniformly possessed a despairing kind of dead look in their eyes as they trudged along the passageways. They were mostly burdened with bales of goods or buckets of water, or were performing various types of manual labour.
So, not all of Ayestrom's 'subjects' universally adore him, Superman thought, both disturbed and oddly saddened by this newest revelation.
Very few of the residents they passed bothered to look up at the guards or their detainee, and none at all met their eyes, merely stepping out of the way or being roughly shoved over by his guards if they moved too slowly.
The heavily armed sentries and mercenaries they passed generally gave a curt nod or a truncated sort of salute to the woman who led Superman's party through the warren of paths amid thin fabricated walls which created makeshift workrooms and living quarters for the many denizens he observed there.
Several small children, clothed in little more than rags, and appearing alarmingly malnourished, were also present. They were not playing, but working alongside the adults. Not one of them smiled.
Superman frowned.
The air here was dank and musty, smelling strongly of mildew, garbage, sweat, and human waste, repugnant to Superman's sensitive nose. His own manufactured odour was certainly not out of place in these surroundings. It was also unnaturally warm for such a deep hole in the ground. Perhaps, he speculated, the heat was a byproduct of weapons manufacture, or some kind of illicit engineering? He tried and failed to scan for man-made heat sources.
He was led still deeper into the maze, and the crowds of residents seemed to be increasing in number; simultaneously, the living space was becoming more cramped, dark, and filthy. He thought of the extravagance and finery of the upper estate, squalidly shielding this underground city from view. The conditions these people were enduring were doubly deplorable by comparison.
The despair in the air was nearly tangible, choking in its desperation. He distracted himself from dwelling on the abject misery before him by exerting a maximum strain on his senses, filing away everything about the base that he could. He grinned a little, tightly. If nothing else, he was certainly learning a great deal about the base in this forced march.
He jerked his head up, startled, as his guards abruptly yanked him to an unceremonious halt.
"Welcome back to the ghetto zone, Herr Czerwinski," one of the guards snickered. "Lost and sickly or not, you are most certain to receive a very warm welcome indeed."
His escorts shared a nasty little laugh, and wrestled the unresisting but uncooperative Superman into a smaller cave gouged straight out of the rock wall. It apparently served as an impromptu office and detention area. A single bare light bulb overhead, hanging at an angle from bare wiring strung across the ceiling, provided a dim, uneven light. A rusty metal desk in the corner stood vacant.
"It would seem as though this zone's overseer is away on business," the woman said, turning to assess Superman. "You will be required to remain here until his return."
Superman began to nod as his guards released his arms and stepped away, swaying unsteadily on his feet. It wasn't entirely an act. He timidly gestured towards a single, rickety wooden chair placed in the middle of the small chamber. " "Darf ich mich hinsetzen?" May I sit, please?
"So polite! Such formal German!" the nearest guard laughed. He bowed obsequiously. "But of course, mein 'Frau'." He snickered at the insult. "If you can find a seat, that is."
Superman carefully kept his expression blank as he limped painfully to the chair, dragging his foot.
"Such courtesy deserves it in kind," the second guard said slyly. "Allow me to assist you, Herr Czerwinski."
And without any warning, he planted a hard boot in the small of Superman's back and kicked forward forcefully, sending his prisoner sprawling to the ground. Superman was forced to allow himself be knocked into the wooden chair, shattering it in the process as he fell upon it with all his weight. He groaned and clutched at his shoulder and elbow, aware of how bruised he would be after such a fall had he really been the haggard, frail man he was pretending. He kept his face partially averted, worried that the makeup on the left side of his face was compromised as his cheek was scraped across the rough stone floor.
"Oh, how very clumsy of me!" cried the guard with obvious glee. "I was a little overzealous in my help. I do hope you're all right."
Superman was forced to expend an even greater effort to biting down on his temper. It was obvious that brutalization of the powerless denizens by Ayestrom's elite troops was routine here.
"Genug!" the female sentry snapped, and indicated the exit.
Superman wisely swallowed his mounting anger and meekly crawled to the opposite wall, sitting up against it painfully, and drawing his knees up to his chest.
"Warten Sie hier," one of the male guards ordered him.
Wait here?
For how long? It seemed to Superman that he and the woman took turns giving the commands. It was slightly confusing. "Try to depart without permission and my corporal here will open fire. Understood?"
"Understood," Superman said stiffly.
"Your overmaster will be back shortly to administer treatment for you … and naturally, the punishment you've merited."
He laughed at that, and then he and the woman turned and departed without a further glance at him, leaving the burly guard standing outside the entrance to the detention cave. Superman sighed slightly, and activated his X-ray vision to watch the woman pull out a communication device, presumably to report on their findings to her own C.O.
Great, he thought tiredly, absently rubbing at his knocked elbow without consciously realizing that it was sore. What a pretty little pickle you've gotten yourself into this time, Clark!
As soon as this overseer returned to his office, he would surely recognize Superman as a stranger, of not belonging to his zone. And then, this game would be up quicker than one could say, well, 'Essiggurken'!
He had to repress a sudden surge of hysterical laughter, borne, no doubt, out of his sheer exhaustion. He suddenly remembered he never had received that hour of concentrated sunlight that he'd promised J'onn he would, although he now knew he had fooled no one when he'd claimed that that was all he'd needed to regain his vim and vigour. He shook his head with a slightly bitter smile. If only.
What options do I have now? he asked himself grimly. Think, idiot! You're Superman. Find a way! There'll be no giving up at this juncture of time. Your cover's about to be blown sky high, you're unable to escape without undue notice, and it might not even be possible to fight your way back up top. And certainly huddling here in misery and indecision is not helping any of those hostages!
He wearily climbed to his feet, fighting the overpowering desire to just curl up and go to sleep, and studied first the desk, and then behind the walls for anything that looked like it could be used as a weapon or be of use. Nada. Just more of the same dismal, stuffy, dirty, rat-infested chambers and valueless trash these poor people were forced to survive on.
How had this happened to them? he wondered anew. Were they so desperate in their previous lives that they would willingly choose to leave their freedom to beg for Ayestrom's 'protection', and therefore enslave themselves to his power-hungry cause?
He was by now well convinced that Ayestrom was an incredibly persuasive and commanding leader. But equally apparent was that not everyone in his sphere of influence were benefiting from his illegal exploits or his tremendous power and wealth.
He shot a quick look at the doorway, but his guard was still at his post, with an additional patrol of six soldiers lounging nearly directly across the narrow corridor from his jail cave. The ghetto overseer would no doubt be there at any moment.
He sighed, and knowing the risks, also recognized that at this point he had very little left to lose. He leaned against the wall, and drawing breath, activated his comm.
"Oracle. Batman. Come in."
Almost immediately his communicator crackled to life.
"Superman! What's your status?" The voice on the other end sounded almost frantic. He closed his eyes. Damn it but he hadn't wanted this to play out this way!
"Not good, I'm afraid, Oracle," he said quietly. "My freedom's been curtailed, and my disguise will very shortly be of little use." Then he grinned, squaring his shoulders. "But it could be worse."
"Just how could it be worse?" Oracle sounded aghast.
He tried to sound more optimistic than he was feeling. "Well, for one thing, Batman's not here to personally berate me for landing in this mess. You just know how that would brighten my night."
"Thank God for small favours," was the dry reply.
He grinned. "Plus, I've found a few things. Useful things. And they don't yet know who I am, so it's ..."
"Yet??"
"Ah, slip of the tongue. Sorry."
"And the hostages?" broke in Batman. Superman could almost hear the rigidity that must have been tightening Batman's neck and jaw.
Bruce ...
"I'm closer to their position, I believe," he answered calmly. "And Batman, they are definitely at this base." He couldn't help the smile that he could feel blossoming across his face. It had been the biggest coup of information he'd gathered so far. They werehere. The children were here. "I overheard some of the soldiers here discussing them," he added before any demands could be made. "However, their condition is still unknown," he reported, forcing the worry from his voice. "I can tell you that this base is far larger than we originally guessed, with over two thousand non-combatants residing underground." He shook his head, thinking again of the faces he had passed on his way through. The despair, the emptiness, the desperation that he'd seen ... He forced his mind back on track. "I've managed to estimate that there are at least four hundred mercs or soldiers stationed here alone." He heard the indrawn breaths at the news. "And I'm afraid that it appears that most of them have been outfitted with those meta-weapons that've been giving us a bit of trouble in the past few attacks." He rubbed his face. "That's not entirely great news, I know. And worse …"
"It gets worse?" Oracle sounded disbelieving. Superman sighed.
"Unfortunately. Somehow our communications have been detected." He paused. "They've discovered a way to trace our transmissions."
Even Superman lifted an eyebrow at Batman's verbal response to that news.
"Is this safe even talking to you then?" he heard Kyle ask worriedly in the background. "Right now?"
He didn't know how to answer that, so he said nothing. He twisted his fingers unconsciously in his lap. "I don't think they're that precise," he said finally. "And more importantly, I think I can find out a good deal more about what's going on down at this level. There's something strange going on, and we need to know what it is. I'll keep on the lookout."
"And how are you holding up, Kal?" Diana interjected softly. "Your voice … it does not sound like you."
"I'm fine, for the time being," he said, trying to make to his hoarse and strained voice sound firmer. "Don't worry. I'm not out of tricks yet."
"Odds for escape?" Batman demanded.
"For the hostages?" Superman let out a breath and swiftly calculated the chances in his head. "At present, with what I've got to go on, I'd say approximately one thousand and forty to…"
"No," Batman nearly snarled, obviously struggling for some control himself, "for you."
"Not impossible, certainly," he replied, purposefully vague. "I'll do my level best. Like I said, don't worry."
"Oh yeah," Oracle said, the levity of her tone failing to mask the concern beneath. "Around here, that's like telling a momma grizzly that she needn't worry about defending her helpless cubs from vicious encroaching predators."
"But luckily in our case, I'm no helpless cub." Superman smiled and added gently, "I'll be all right."
Batman made an unidentifiable noise in his throat. "We cannot afford to lose you, Superman. Our fighting strength will be diminished if you…"
"He is not just a League asset or some sort of tactical advantage to be used at your whim, Batman!" Wonder Woman retorted, unusual anger clear in her voice. "He is one of our own, and I will not have you …"
"I am all too aware of that," came Batman's frosty reply. "And you should well remember that I …"
"Look," Superman intervened, nipping the escalating argument in the bud. "Ayestrom's people are likely already locked onto our signal. I have to cut communications before there's time for them to pinpoint it to me specifically." He sighed. "I've got a plan, so do stop freaking out." He smiled tightly at the response that comment got him. "I'm starting to think Oracle was right in her assessment of you!"
"I'm always right," Oracle said primly.
"Kal, what if …" J'onn started.
"It's all right, J'onn," Superman interrupted. He paused a moment. "We all knew the risks in this when we began," he said, more softly. "And we just have to … play the hand that we've been dealt."
"Superman …" Batman began.
"I'll contact you as soon as I possibly can," he added quickly.
"Kal!"
"Superman out."
He deactivated the channel with abrupt speed, and then slumped against the roughhewn wall.
Batman knew. His team knew. Knew, at least, about the situation, as helpless as they were to yet do anything about it. But they had all been in worse spots and still managed to come out triumphant in the end. He would simply have to trust that their luck would hold true one more time.
He drew in a deep breath, shut his eyes for a single luxuriant second, and then forced himself to straighten.
Now, to see about that plan …
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To be Continued ...
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Note: There's a tiny pun in there, in Superman's head. "Essiggurken" is the German word for a type of 'pickle', as in, 'He's in a pretty one.' g ;-)