Chapter 13
Earth Prime
2014
Gotham City
Bruce stared at the woman seated across from him. Five minutes ago when his secretary buzzed him that, "A woman who looks a lot like Wonder Woman is here to see you," Bruce thought he was prepared. But now, gazing into blue eyes identical to that of his friend and colleague, Bruce could see how, upon first glance, Clark could've mistaken this Diana for their Diana.
"You were expecting me?"
"Of course."
"I should have known Superman conceded too easily."
"Did you honestly think Clark thought a Diana, from any Earth, would be content to sit in an apartment and wait for others to determine her fate?"
After leaving this Diana in his apartment, Clark had contacted Bruce, telling him the strange story of a Clark and Diana from another time and place and their son born with the Doomsday virus.
"So now you know everything I do, Bruce. I'm going after Diana. I think I know where she's headed."
"Themyscira?"
"I hope not. If she's gone there, I'll have to wait for her to leave the island to speak with her. No, I think she's on her way to Washington, DC. At least, I hope that's where she's going."
"Tell me once more why Diana left your apartment."
"You're not funny, Bruce."
"The other Diana couldn't have looked that much like Diana to confuse a man with your super senses, Clark. What were you thinking?"
"Well, that's not really important. I just called to—"
"Sex. You were thinking about sex. That's the only logical explanation for why you sexually assaulted a complete stranger in the presence of your girlfriend."
"I did not sexually assault anyone. I can't believe you just said that. You know what, you're being an ass on purpose. I called for your help. This is not helping, Bruce."
"Well, the last time you got into an argument with Diana, she fled to Themyscira and you let two crazed Kryptonians escape the Phantom Zone. I don't think the world can stand too many more of your lover's spats. Do you?"
"Again, unhelpful. Look, just keep an eye out for Diana of Mount Olympus. If my guess is correct, she'll be heading your way sooner or later. I just want to find my Diana and clear the air. I'll be in touch once I have her and we've talked."
"Try not to screw it up."
"Well, you're just full of support today, aren't you, Bruce? Like a club upside my damn head."
"You called me, Clark, you called me."
And Bruce, despite his ribbing of Clark, was glad his friend had. Any plan that involved Batman from another Earth couldn't be good for Diana and Clark, especially a Batman they knew nothing about but one Bruce had met.
"My Kal wouldn't have," Diana said, answering Bruce's question and pulling him back to the present conversation. "But this Superman, this Clark Kent, is not my Kal, no matter how much they resemble each other."
"As much as you resemble Diana?"
She nodded.
Bruce contemplated.
They both did, continuing to stare at each other, silently appraising, measuring.
"You look like the Bruce of my Earth and time. Well, you look the way he did thirty years ago."
"You say that as if he hasn't aged well." Not that Bruce envisioned himself aging well, not with the way he pushed his body and the resulting injuries.
"He's dying, if that answers your question."
Well, that bit of information did more than answer his question, it raised more of them.
"From what?"
Diana crossed long legs, eyes suddenly calculating. "I don't know for sure but I suspect it has something to do with time travel and dimension hopping."
Bruce knew nothing of the device that had brought the other Batman to his time, but it wasn't hard to imagine that whatever the man had used to cross time and space would have physical repercussions on his human body.
Maybe even mental repercussions as well. I wonder if Diana of Mount Olympus has thought of that, as well.
From the shrewd way she spoke of Batman, Bruce thought she might have.
"Why are you here, Diana? From what Clark told me, you came for him and Diana. Unless, of course, you have a device for me or are willing to come back and get me, I don't see what I have to do with your mission."
She gave him a slow, beautifully wicked smile. Diana had never smiled at him in that way. If she ever had, Bruce doubted they would've ever become friends. The more time he spent in this woman's presence, the more obvious the differences between Diana of Mount Olympus and Diana of Themyscira became.
He'd asked Clark about the Mount Olympus versus Themyscira part of her name, but Clark had no answer beyond the obvious. "I guess she grew up on Mount Olympus instead of Paradise Island like our Diana."
Yet watching the way she smiled at him, the distinction crystallized in Bruce's mind. For all of Diana's demigod power, Amazon warrior training, and that she was now the Goddess of War, Diana had an earthy presence that made one forget that she wasn't quite human, mortal.
This Diana, however, had none of Wonder Woman's down-to-earth appeal. Her godhood shown through and through—regal with an air of kindness yet superiority. She embraced her godly power, her place in the Greek Pantheon. That much was obvious to Bruce.
"From the way your irises have dilated, you just determined how unlike I am from the Diana you know and love."
"I don't lo—"
"It matters not to me, Bruce Wayne. Wonder Woman is an Amazon and understands the different kinds of love that exists in the world. All love is not romantic, Bruce, this we both know. Though you would do well not to have that particular conversation with Superman. A sacred trinity is what the world requires, not a love triangle. Besides, if you're anything like the Bruce from my time, you're destined to marry Selina Kyle."
Bruce's gaze narrowed at her presumptive words, but his heart secretly stuttered with thoughts of having Selina as a permanent fixture in his life. He didn't know how he felt about that, about the possibility of actually marry someone, of marrying Catwoman.
"To answer your question, I'm here to know what you and Bruce talked about when he came to visit you."
"What makes you think—"
She waved away the lie he was about to tell her with a sharp, "I don't have time for your Batman games, Bruce Wayne. And don't insult me with your lies. I may not know the what, where, or when, but I know Bruce would've sought you out when he traveled here."
Batman had done exactly that, a little more than a year ago. He'd ambushed Bruce in his own damn Batcave. Apparently, he and the other man had the same ideas about security codes as well as chosen nightly profession. He never saw Batman's face, for he wore a cowl similar to Bruce's, but his voice and knowledge of everything Wayne and Gotham convinced Bruce he was indeed speaking to an alternate version of himself.
After listening to the man spin a tale of "Four Horsemen" and "The end of days," Bruce had contemplated hauling Batman to Arkham Asylum. But there was one thing he'd told Bruce that could actually be proven, unlike all the other future babble he'd spouted.
He'd told Bruce that, based on the current timeline, Clark and Diana were about to enter into a secret romantic relationship. While he doubted the man's sanity, the information was easy enough to verify. More importantly, it would be easy enough to disprove and send the fool packing. So, one day, Bruce had simply slipped a small, discrete video device on Superman's cape.
He hadn't expected much. But, to his surprise, he'd gotten an eyeful—Clark and Diana, in the air kissing in front of Clark's Smallville home.
After that, Bruce wondered what else Batman had told him was true. But when he'd returned to the Batcave, it was to find the man gone, along with the secret files he kept on Wonder Woman.
And now a Diana from the same Earth had tracked him down as well.
"I only saw him once. He stole some documents from me and left."
"What kind of documents? Wait? Stupid question. What he stole had to have been documents you kept on Superman and Wonder Woman. That's the only thing that makes sense."
Diana stood and began to pace, braid long and flowing behind her as she walked in wide circles.
Bruce also stood, feeling, not for the first time, that he'd betrayed his friend by allowing his records on her to fall into someone else's hands—records neither Diana nor Clark knew anything about.
"Batman can't be trusted."
At his words, Diana stopped pacing and spun to face him.
"I know. Sometimes a good heart and noble intentions make for the worst of enemies. He has plans for my son, and I need to know what they truly are. Which means I need to convince Superman and Wonder Woman to return home with me."
Bruce plopped back in his black, leather executive chair, the ache of betrayal twisting his gut into tangled knots.
"They'll return with you, even when I advise them not to. They will go with you, put themselves in a situation they know too little about because that's the type of heroes they are. They live for peace, for righting wrongs, for helping others."
None of which Bruce had put in his records on Wonder Woman. He'd boiled her down to titles and power sets. Because they were his records, he hadn't felt a need to qualify or explain her personality beyond all the ways she was a warrior and a potential danger if she ever went rogue or was mentally manipulated and controlled. Now, Bruce was pretty sure he knew precisely why Batman needed Clark and Diana. And it had nothing to do with curing his friends' son.
To destroy the so-called Four Horsemen. Could he have been right about that, too? Is this Earth and three others in danger of being decimated by their combined might? Should I try to stop Diana and Clark from going? What will happen if they don't go?
"You're right. Until I met them, I was worried that Bruce was sending me here to bring back people who would hurt my son instead of try to help him."
"If he can be helped, Clark and Diana will do all in their power."
But if he can't be helped, if he's a danger, one of the Four Horsemen, what will they do? What will you do, Diana of Mount Olympus? Fight by their side against your son or wage a mother's war?
Bruce swiveled in his chair, giving Diana his back, not wanting her to see the fear and concern in his eyes.
Earth-44
2030
Messina Province, Italy
Athos stumbled and fell to the ground. Head pounding, eyes raging with a heated pain he'd never before felt, he dragged himself along the concrete, knowing he had to find someplace to hide.
I can hear her. She's coming after me. Aunt Eris.
Athos covered his ears, but it did no good. He couldn't shut out the constant blaring of sounds assaulting him at every turn. Everything, every damn thing he heard.
Flapping of butterfly wings.
Rustling of leaves.
Swishing of skirts.
Clicking, tapping, whooshing, thumping, on and on and on it went. An endless barrage of white noise that filled Athos' ears and head, excruciating in its intensity and relentless waves of sensory overload.
By the Gods, why wouldn't it stop? What on this side of Mount Etna was happening to him?
Sight.
Sound.
Smell.
Touch.
All his senses had betrayed him. He must truly be cursed by the Gods, for why else would he suffer so since leaving his prison-home?
He'd done it. He'd actually escaped. But what kind of freedom had Athos gained if it brought such indescribable pain and discomfort?
And the sun, by the gods the sun. He could no longer look upon the glorious orb, for each time he did his insides seemed to pull him towards the star. As much as it drew him in, as much as his body yearned to reach out and cradle it to his chest, it also frightened Athos.
And little in his sixteen years of life truly frightened the boy. But the power the yellow star obviously had over him did. As did the realization that he was now an emancipated soul with nowhere to go and no one to care for him.
He knew no one beyond his brothers of the forge and Hephaestus. Athos didn't even know where he was, though he was in a square surrounded by people.
He didn't need to open his eyes, his ears picked up the inane chatter of people.
"Why is that boy on the ground?"
"I didn't come all the way to Sicily to see a homeless kid on the street. I could've stayed in Miami if I wanted to see that shit. And it wouldn't have cost me a thing. Geesh."
"Is something wrong with him?"
"Hey, kid, are you all right?"
"Just keep walking, honey. Teens nowadays are crazy. He's probably on drugs or something."
On it went, people talking to and about him. Though most kept walking, too busy or too uncaring to offer assistance.
But those who did stop, concern lacing their voices, Athos couldn't answer, didn't even open his eyes or acknowledge them beyond grunts of pain that sounded more like the growls of a wildebeest than a boy in distress.
Forcing himself onto hands and knees, Athos crawled, letting his sense of smell and sound carry him along. With trembling hands, he reached up and found the edge of a stone structure. It felt hard, smooth, and warm from the sun. Pulling himself upward, Athos moved in the direction of the running water he heard. Standing, he pushed up, swung first one then the other leg over a barrier.
Then he fell—into blessed cool water. It covered him, a liquid and wholly inadequate respite from the sun. Still, the water felt good against his heated skin.
Holding his breath, Athos stayed like that. He had no idea how long he did, finding it strangely easy to go without oxygen for so long. But he had plenty of air in his lungs and no desire to move and find another hiding spot.
When Aunt Eris found him, and Athos had no doubt the goddess would, he would stand his ground and fight. No matter that his parents had given him away, Athos was the son of Superman and Wonder Woman. And, of the little he knew of the Justice Leaguers, they didn't back down from anyone, least of all a skinny, forked tongue witch out to cause trouble wherever she went.
Twenty minutes later, Athos lifted his head, breaking the surface of the water just enough to take in a breath of air before submerging himself once more.
Despite the odd things going on with his body and being hunted by a demented goddess, Athos was finally free. If he could get himself together and stay two steps ahead of Aunt Eris, Athos would do all in his power to find his parents. They may not want to see him, but that was too damn bad because he wanted to see them. They had the answers he sought. Like why they gave me away. Why didn't they love me enough to keep me?
Thoughts of his uncaring parents made Athos' head hurt even worse. But the hum of pain in his head paled in comparison to the sting of rejection in his heart. What was it about him that was so unlovable his parents had turned him over to Hephaestus to raise? Or perhaps his parents were the ones with the issue and not Athos.
He didn't know, but he did think he had the right to learn the truth. If nothing else, Superman and Wonder Woman owed him the truth. And he would have it. One way or another, Athos would have the truth from them.
At the thought, an unbidden snarl ripped from him, sending birds flying and water boiling.
Then he smelled her. She hadn't been there a moment ago, but she was present now. On the other side of the stone fountain.
Jasmine.
Aunt Eris always smelled of jasmine, a woody/floral scent that smelled of fun and good times—an illusion. Everything with Aunt Eris was pure illusion, all for her own fun and good times, no matter how cruel, no matter how hurtful to others. Even when that other was her own flesh, her nephew.
"Come out, come out wherever you are."
The high pitched sing-song cackle of her voice grated. For too long Aunt Eris had been Athos' only mother figure. As much as he despised his weakness, there were nights when he'd lain awake hoping for a visit from her, wanting, no needing, the love and comfort of a woman, of a mother. Eris was the closest he'd had to that.
And how pathetic was that? Athos pining for the love and affection from the Goddess of Strife, Chaos, and Discord when all he wanted was to be held by the woman who had born then tossed him away. No, Wonder Woman was no better than Aunt Eris—sweet and caring on the outside but selfish and heartless on the inside.
"Very nice, the Fountain of Orion. Did you know, Athos, this fountain was built in front of the Cathedral in 1547. The work of architect Giovanni Angelo Montorsoli inaugurated a very important event for the city: the construction of the first aqueduct obtained with the conveyance of water in rivers Camaro and Bordonaro. The fountain is dedicated to the mythical founder of the giant Orion Messina."
She chuckled, arrogant and belittling, as if she a jaded tour guide and Athos a dimwitted tourist. Two steps put her closer to the fountain and Athos. "If you look above your cowering head, you'll see the figure of Orion, with the emblem of the city and the dog Sirius feet, stands on top of the fountain. Three groups with marble cherubs, nymphs and tritons, separating the two tanks where the water comes gushing out in the lower basin of twelve."
He heard and felt splashing water, and knew Eris was the cause of the disruption.
"If you haven't realized, you are in the basin of this magnificent structure, soiling it with your genetically impure presence."
Angry, Athos sat up, opened painful eyes, and met the gaze of a smiling Eris.
"Ah, there you are, nephew." Scrawny arms crossed, a dark brow arched. "Did you have fun? Is the outside world all you imagined it to be?"
Opening her arms wide, she twirled in a complete circle, her black dress with slits barely covering the areas Athos had no interest in seeing. In fact, he had no interest in seeing any part of his aunt, wishing the woman far away from him.
When she stopped, the faux smile was gone, replaced by an annoyed grimace.
"Thanks to your temper tantrum, Hephaestus is now probably tattling to Apollo or your father."
"I've never met the son god, and my father couldn't give a damn about me. Why should he care what you've been up to?"
The way Aunt Eris stared down at Athos was the way she'd looked at him the whole of his life. It was the look that said she knew far more than Athos ever would. And, unless it suited her purposes, she would never reveal even a morsel of her secrets to him.
"There will be repercussions, nephew. For me." She grinned—with wickedness and loathing. "For you."
Then she began to grow, like she did in his bedroom so many hours ago. But this time, her height extended so far upward that Athos had to crane his neck way back to see her full godly form.
Tourists and Sicilians scattered, their shocked and horrified screams echoing their retreat.
Over fifty feet, at least, all pale legs, arms, and godly power.
Black eyes glared down at Athos, her intention clear.
She wants me dead.
"This isn't the way I thought it would end." The voice boomed down from on high. "The taste of revenge was to be so much sweeter than this. I wanted to see Diana's face when she learned the truth. Wanted to glory in the strife between my baby sister and her beloved alien."
What was she talking about? Athos was so confused, his mind not functioning as well as it should today. His body felt weak and strong at the same time. But the strength was painful and unwieldy, as if he would explode at any moment.
"But this will have to do, nephew." Aunt Eris' laughter shattered the windows of the nearby buildings, sending shards down, a violent rain of jagged glass and godly malevolence. "But this outcome could also work. After today, they will no longer be able to keep the secret from her. She'll suffer the death of her son twice. Your life, your presence was to be a constant reminder of Superman's ultimate lie, ultimate betrayal." She shrugged, as if she made perfect sense and weren't speaking in riddles.
If Athos understood nothing else Aunt Eris had just said, he'd picked up on one thing—She hates my mother. But why?
Dragging himself from the fountain, Athos faced down his enemy. Wet, exhausted, and body morphing from the inside-out, Athos refused to be cowed. If today were to be his day of judgment, he would face it like a man—chin and fists up.
"Oh, you are your father's son, aren't you, little Athos? You even have the glowing red eyes to show for it." She raised a huge foot in the air, her big toe larger than Athos' entire body. "You think to blast me with that puny heat vision of yours? Well, I don't think you have what it takes to best me. Your father chose poorly. I will show you that a goddess is far superior to that half-breed mother of yours."
The mammoth foot rose higher and directly over Athos, blocking out the sun and casting him in darkness.
The building heat and pain behind his eyes momentarily abated. But the force of it still pushed against his cerebral cortex—the pressure painful and near to bursting.
Lifting his head upward, eyes opened as wide as possible, Athos screamed. His entire body shook with the force of his scream, his frustration, his loneliness, and he directed it all at Aunt Eris.
The building pressure and scorching heat flooding his brain exploded in a red shaft of bright light.
The heat kept pouring from Athos—upward and outward. He couldn't stop, couldn't close his eyes, couldn't control this raw power escaping from him with the same desperate intensity as Athos when he'd broken through the walls that kept him inside his mountain of a prison.
Eris screamed, but the foot above him remained. Through the red haze, Athos could make out boulder-size holes in the goddesses' bare foot. Red and blistered, the deadly appendage hovered above Athos, still poised to squash him like the bug she thought him to be.
"You impertinent, child. How dare you? How. Dare. You."
The blistered foot came roaring down toward Athos, heedless of the fire still blazing from his eyes. Athos could do nothing but raise his arms and hands, praying he was strong enough to prevent his aunt from breaking every bone in his body, crushing him under the weight of her unjust fury.
A blur of red-and-blue pushed Athos out of the way, knocking him against the fountain. The hard shove had Athos tumbling to the ground and hitting his head—hard. But it was enough to stop whatever had happened to his eyes. He no longer emitted the red, glowing fire.
Blinking back pain, Athos watched, in stunned amazement the scene before him. He rubbed achy, blurry eyes. But nothing changed.
He was there, under Aunt Eris's foot and lifting upward with a might Athos could not have achieved.
Superman. By the gods, that's Superman. My father.
Yes, it was, holding off Eris with an impressive ease that had Athos struggling to a seated position, his back going against the fountain.
With a forceful shove, Superman sent Aunt Eris tumbling backward. The ground shook violently when she came crashing to the ground. Superman was there when she fell, his fists pounding her in the face and body, her godly form jerking from the force of his mighty blows.
"Athos may not have what it takes to best you, but I certainly do."
The fight continued, with Superman leveling blow after blow at Eris. But Aunt Eris was a god, after all, not so easily defeated by anyone, even Superman.
Grabbing the flowing red cape, Eris flung Superman off her and into the Cathedral behind the fountain. The right side of the structure cracked and crumbled from Superman's impact.
Within seconds, the red-and-blue blur was back, flying at the goddess with two balled fists stretched out in front of him. A deadly bullet, Eris his target.
Aunt Eris stood, still huge, still towering over all within sight.
Superman hurled his much smaller body into her stomach, fists and head first. Aunt Eris went sailing back, back, back, back.
Like the sun, so close yet so far, so went Aunt Eris until Athos no longer saw her pale, mocking, deceitful form.
She was gone, but the chaos she'd wrought remained.
Sighing in relief, Athos closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm his nerves, to stay his fear, his anger.
When a figure stood in front of him, blocking out the sun once more, Athos debated whether to open his eyes and face the man who'd abandoned him sixteen years ago, but had saved him today.
With a final deep breath, Athos opened his eyes.
"Hello, Father."
"Hello, Athos."
TO BE CONTINUED