Young Justice / Green Lantern: The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 20: Dreamtime

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I don't own Young Justice or the Green Lantern Corps

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Chapter 20: Dreamtime

Dreamspace: The pair were approaching the mass Rose had noticed earlier. It didn't seem to be a standard planet, even though it was of the right size. It didn't appear to be in orbit around any central star, but just drifted through space. Its gravitational field appeared no greater than Earth's, and possibly a little less. But it was totally black. Not the black of a planet floating in space without a star to light it, but even up close, the planetoid appeared to be totally and completely black. "Looks like a giant cinder," remarked Rose, kneeling down to get a better look at the ground. She picked at the surface, and a piece came off in her hand, disintegrating even as she watched. Ragnar went over and kicked a small protrusion from the surface, with the same result.

"You're right; it does look like a giant cinder. But what could have caused it?"

She shrugged. "Dreamspace. There may be no reason. Maybe someone is just dreaming of a huge cindered planet. Though that would be a kind of an odd dream."

"Well, this is clearly not where we need to be, so-*"

"Wait a minute, kid. Remember who we're looking for: Miss Martian. And Martians have a thing about fire. Fires produce cinders. Don't dismiss this place so quickly."

But he shook his head. "Doesn't feel right, Rose. Can't you feel it? This place is, is…active. There's more than just death at work here."

Now that she concentrated on it, Rose could feel it too. This wasn't the aftermath of some horrendous superweapon, a planet blasted and forgotten about; whatever had so burned this world was still watching it.

Still wanting it the way it was.

Unconsciously, the two had adopted their standard—for them—tactical position: back to back, with Rose's swords drawn, and Ragnar's ring guarding them from the other direction. Rose noticed that his left hand had sprouted sharp bony spurs from the knuckles; she wondered if he was even aware of that or not. "Okay, I think it's time we left. There's no sign of M'gann hereabouts, at least not one we determine. Let's move off a ways, and regroup."

He rose from the ground, even as she tucked her hands firmly in his belt. It was harder this time, as they were fighting the gravity well of a plant….but the gravity field seemed to stop abruptly just a few feet above the blackened surface. He rapidly picked up speed, it being no trouble for him to accelerate to some respectable velocities.

But they didn't move far off. "Okay," began Rose, "on the one hand, a blackened planet….why would someone dream that? And no signs of intelligent life…if this is the collective subconscious, where are the dreamers?" Again, she consulted the scanner Bertran had given her, calibrating it for more than just mass. "Hey. Get a load of this. Apparently there's a massive temperature increase not far from here."

"How massive?" He looked around; there was no visible sign of such.

Her eyes widened. "Like real massive. Like about up to two million degrees Fahrenheit. Just hanging there in space, too. No star or anything nearby. Oh, wait: I spoke too soon. It appears to be headed our way." She looked at him. "Might want to give some thought to the better part of valor. That would test even your ring's ability."

"Agreed. Which other direction looks promising?"

"Not here. Let's move. I want to triangulate on this thing; it's approaching, and I wanna find out how big it is."

With her holding onto his belt, he flew away from the cinder of a planet, until it was no more than a speck in the reddish "sky" that appeared to be this universe's backdrop. "How's this?"

She consulted her scanner. "We're safely past it, but it's a huge thing. Easily the size of a small star. And there's no mass associated with it. None. It's apparently just an area of intense heat, floating through space." She paused, and recalibrated the scanner. "Perhaps 'floating' wasn't accurate, as it appears to be underway. It's traveling along a certain course, a course that takes it right past that burned out planet we just found."

"Any sign of any other masses in this area?"

"Let me see." She fussed over the scanner, giving it a couple of shakes, an ancient human custom of semi-magic that people seemed to fall into, regardless of cultural or educational level. "Maybe some very slight ones at the furthest end of the scanner's range. We can try that. But first, let's track that moving hot spot. No way a thing like that is natural." She took more readings. The spot was invisible to the unaided eye, but the scanner tracked it easily. "Stands out like a nuclear blast."

"Which way was is it headed?"

"That way." And she pointed to her right. "Seems to be traveling on a pretty straight line, too."

"Are there….any planetary masses in its wake?"

"Way ahead of ya, kid." She worked the scanner's controls expertly. "Hm. Those aren't that far off. And that's odd. When we first got here, I know I scanned this area, and didn't see anything, except for that cindered planet back there."

En route, Rose couldn't help but wonder: was the traveling heat source responsible for the burned planet? If so, why? Then she thought: aliens. And wanted to face-palm again.

Rose hated dealing with aliens. No matter how "normal" or how "human" (like) they projected themselves, there was usually something off-center about them, something you couldn't predict, no matter how much thought and preparation you put into it. And that was the ones that tried to fit in.

Well, maybe, for once, things would work out just the way they were supposed to. Maybe they'd be able to remove the horror meme from Megan's subconscious, restoring her to her proper mental state. Then Rose could, in good conscience, turn kludinsky, here, over to Miss Pie Thrower, and just let them sorta…..sort it all out for themselves. Megan would the one to watch him for signs of transformation, and he could, he could….well, he could do whatever he chose to do, she guessed. Which, she reasoned, with a quirk of a smile, would no doubt include learning a great deal about sex.

At the end of the Graduation Party he'd dragged her to, he escorted her back to her quarters at Mt. Justice. They'd shaken hands, and he'd pronounced her debt to him paid.

But then, for reasons she still didn't fully understand, she'd taken his hands and told him the bet didn't have to be over, and she was not averse to giving him some…lessons…on human sexuality that she felt would be sure to come in handy, once Megan was herself again, and they could be together. No strings attached, nobody talking about any kind of commitments, just…some private lessons.

What followed was interesting. It was the first time she'd seen him express anything like interest in her (interest, hell; this was simple arousal; she'd begun to wonder if he even had a sex drive), he had nonetheless very politely turned her down. "You're a person, Rose, not a teaching tool. And you deserve better than being used by somebody as an educational prop. I really wish you would not lose sight of that."

Wow. Outwardly, she said, "That your final word? Okay, kid. Well, g'night." Then she'd gone inside, closed the door—and thought about that. Long and hard.

For most of her life, Rose Wilson had thought of herself only in terms of what she could do. Her training under her father had, in a way, reinforced that, although she was sure he hadn't intended it that way. But when you've been trained to hone your body and mind into a weapon, how else can you see yourself, except as a thing, a tool?

And how was it that Ray, a stranger to Earth and Earth's customs, could see her in any other way than the way she saw herself?

Aliens, she thought to herself. Aliens again. But—and with the tiniest of secret smiles—maybe in a good way. No reason why it couldn't be.

"Then let's head for the closest. I'd like a look at whatever may be associated with that heat source, even if it's not directly in its wake."

The planetoid floated, just like the burned out cinder of a planet, dead in space, with no solar mass associated with it. It too, was totally, completely black, but it was not the black of the cindered planetoid they'd just come from. Rather, this one seemed to be composed of pure obsidian, volcanic glass. "Okay, this is getting a little high up there on the 'weird' scale," said Rose. "I mean, first, a planet-sized cinder, and now a planet-sized chunk of obsidian? What is this place—a goth paradise?"

"Rose…look over there." Ray was pointing, using his ring to create an arrow to what she supposed was the eastward side of the planetoid.

Rising up out of the razor-sharp shards of glass was a cathedral, replete with gargoyle-festooned walls. The only ground level entrance was a massive gate much like a European castle, with a drawbridge and portcullis…all constructed of obsidian.

Without asking, Ragnar used his ring to pick her up and moved up away from the planet's actual surface. "Hey! What'cha doing?"

"That glass is sharper than a razor. You don't have the protection my ring affords me; a misstep could slice you to the bone. Now, you can fuss and fume all you want to, but I'm not taking that chance."

"Actually, for once, I think you made the right decision. This'd be a poor place to get a huge paper cut. But let's get a little closer look at that…that…structure." Obligingly, he flew them both closer to the edifice.

It was exquisitely detailed, without any signs of normal carving or flaking, such as is commonly the case when humans sought to shape obsidian. Rather, it appeared to have been cast in its current shape. "Kid," said Rose, "I'm getting a funny feeling about this…thing. Am I the only one who thinks those gargoyles look just a little too real?"

"No. But I sense nothing here that will aid us in finding Megan. Does the sensor show anything?"

She consulted it. "No. It reads this place, but it's just a planetoid. Nothing of Megan here."

"Then let me take some recordings with my ring, and be on our way. We don't have that long until automatic recall, you know."

"'Kay."

…..

Our world: San Francisco: the young man known as Brother Blood, or Sebastian Blood, was preparing for a most enjoyable evening.

His agents had identified seven "moles" within his organization, and these had been speedily apprehended and appropriately tortured. But that was only the beginning.

His acolytes were even now preparing the captives for the sacrifice, whereupon their life-essence would be withdrawn from them and transferred to Sebastian Blood. This would enhance his own power, and also give him the sadistic satisfaction he reveled in.

This one will do. Sebastian Blood looked up. He hadn't heard the voice with his ears, but it had resounded in his mind…his eyes widened as he realized who it had to be. "No! I'm not ready!"

The being known as Brother Smith took absolutely no notice of Blood's protestations whatsoever. If a grain of wheat did not wish to be reaped, did the farmer care? He funneled his own essence into the mind and soul of Sebastian Blood, completely replacing them with his own. A quick shudder and it was done. All Blood's power, supernatural and otherwise, had been unable to even so much as slow down the psionic entity. For all intents and purposes, Brother Blood, as he had been, no longer existed.

The new Brother Blood stood up from his throne, already rifling through the recent memories of his host. "My, my. What a mess. That's the trouble with youngsters; driven by their hormones, no sense of priorities." He turned to Mother Mayhem, standing close by. She was looking up at him from a step down, sensing that something was not as it had been. "Mother Mayhem. There's been a, shall we say, a bit of an epiphany here. You might even call it a change in leadership. Take these prisoners back to their cells; I'll tend to them later. Then bring me the reports on our branches, both on the east and the west coasts. I'm especially interested in knowing about the location of all the Lazarus pits world-wide. In fact, make that a priority.

"Oh, and bring me the files on any covert group operating out of Happy Harbor. I'm especially interested in information regarding one Blue Beetle. Go on, now. See to it. I want those reports on my desk by morning."

"Yes, master. I hear and obey."

"See that you do." As he slid the door back, he glanced at his right hand. The yellow power ring had faithfully followed him into this new form. Good, good. Now if I can get one of those scarabs…

…

The hunter prowled the streets of San Francisco, his hunger driving him on. Ever since his resurrection, so very long ago, he no longer needed to eat food in the normal, human sense, but some things could not be replaced.

One such hunger was the hunger for knowledge. The other was a thirst for revenge.

Knowledge: He'd already determined that this was the time. He'd identified the one known as Batgirl and her compatriot, Wonder Girl. There would be an accounting there, and soon.

Revenge: He knew the entity known as "Brother Smith," who'd had so many identities over the millennia, was here, in this time period. And…there, too, would be an accounting. Oh, such an accounting! The tale-tellers would speak of it for generations to come.

But he had to be patient. One thing his incredibly long life had taught him was: patience is often the key to victory.

…

"I don't buh-leeve it!" Stacey McAllister's face was three shades of red.

"Huh? What?" Her friend and co-worker Courtney glanced over. The two were having a hurried lunch in the back room at Victoria's Secret, in Happy Harbor Mall. "What is it, Stace?"

"Look!" Stacey held up the newspaper she'd picked up, the "dead tree edition," as Courtney called it ("C'mon, girl, get with the program. Or do you wanna see the rain forests disappear?"). "Just look! Read that!" She was pointing to a specific article.

Courtney took the paper and read. The Joker, fully recovered from his injuries, had been found to be too insane to stand trial, and so had been remanded to the custody of Arkham Asylum, in Gotham City. "Yeah, well, what else is new? That's like, his home away from home. Actually, it's probably more like his home, period, come to think of it."

"COURT-ney! They basically let that monster out! Again!"

"Arkham isn't exactly 'out,' Stace."

"Yeah? They don't call it 'the revolving door' for no reason! He'll escape, and, and probably kill some more people. It was only thanks to, to that Gold Lantern that he didn't this time. And my parents could've been among his victims, Court! How would you feel if it was your people he'd almost killed?"

"Probably about the way you're feeling now. But, Stace, what can you do?" And here she leaned across the small table, the better to whisper her comments to her worked-up friend. "I hear what you're saying: The guy should be put in the ground. For good. But these days, even saying that gets you suspicious looks. Especially coming from someone who was a victim of his twisted 'joke.' So watch it, okay? Somebody could easily accuse you of being, I dunno, some kinda assassin in the making."

All of a sudden, Stacey broke down, sitting there at the table, wiping her eyes with her hands. She reached for a box of Kleenex. Now I'll have to reapply my makeup… "I…Court, it's just…I guess I came this close to, to losing them altogether…it scared me, Court! It scared me worse than if I'd been the one threatened!" More tears. "I almost lost 'em, Courtney. And now…now the piece of shit who almost took my whole family away from me is alive and enjoying three hots and a cot. Until he breaks out again, that is."

Courtney put her arm around her friend, whose shoulders were still shaking. "I know, Stace, I know. But you gotta realize two things: one, Arkham's on the other side of the nation. Even if he gets out, he's not gonna make a beeline back here to menace you and yours. I mean, why?

"And two, you didn't lose your family. That's the biggie. They were saved, and they're alive and well. What you're feeling is, I guess, a baby version of post-traumatic stress disorder. But everything's okay! It's all okay."

Stacey sniffled, bringing herself under control. "Yeah, but he'll get out to kill again. This isn't the first time. I don't know how Arkham can even call itself a prison, the way people come and go there."

"Yeah, well, not our problem. And neither is he. Now, come on. Back to work."

But as Stacey was preparing to close down the store for the night, she once again reflected on the unjustness of the whole thing. The Joker. A man (man…Ha!) who had killed, and killed again and again, totally without remorse. If anyone ever deserved the death penalty or worse, it was him.

"I know it hurts." The voice came from behind her, and she whirled around, startled that someone could have sneaked up on her. The "closed" sign had been posted….

Standing over by the window was the little boy she'd seen earlier, the one she'd seen looking at her from across the mall. He wore a brown outfit, with a white shirt, brown jacket and brown short pants, and was staring out the window, hands clasped behind him. Watching the mall-goers outside.

"How did you get in here?" Nervously, Stacey noted that this was the very boy whose reflection she hadn't been able to see in the storefront glass.

"I had to know," said the boy, continuing to stare out the window. "I had to experience it for myself. Otherwise, I'd never have known how much it hurt. But now I know. It hurts. It hurts a lot." He angled his head towards Stacey, a rather sad smile on his face. "That's an impressive gift your friend has. Back then, I was only human. He helped me. He brought me out."

More nervousness. There wasn't anybody else in the store…. "Look, kid, you shouldn't be in here. I mean, there's stuff in here you shouldn't see. And your parents are looking for you, I'm sure; the mall's about to close."

"You almost came to know it. I am glad you didn't." Stacey was getting more and more spooked. This looked like a little boy of nine or so, but the way he talked, his body English, stance and posture, were those of an adult…. "And you do not wish for others to suffer as you have. Do you?"

"Er…do I what?"

"You don't want anyone else to suffer the loss you almost suffered: the separation from your loved ones. The break in unity. Isn't that correct?"

Stacey thought, taken aback by the child's words. Yes, that was certainly one way of putting it….separated from your loved ones. Death is the ultimate separation. "Well, no. I certainly don't wish that on anyone else." In the brief pause that followed, she asked, "Who are you, anyway?" The words came out as barely a whisper.

He turned to face her fully. "I'm Tommy. Tommy Walker. And I think you'll do nicely."

Okay, thought Stacey, in horror movies, this is where the monster shows itself and kills the girl…. She measured the distance between herself and the exit. Problem was, the boy (?) was right between her and the door.

He nodded, indicating the counter in front of her. "Look, Stacey McAllister. Look and see. See was is offered you. It is yours, even as it always has been."

Reflexively, even though she didn't want to take her eyes off the creature in front of her, Stacey glanced down at the glass countertop.

There was a heavy-looking silver ring sitting on the counter. Instinctively she knew this was real and not some cheap plastic knockoff. It was apparently made of some kind of solid substance…

It was real.

She didn't realize it when she picked it up. It was just as solid as it looked to be ….

On a level below conscious thought, Stacey knew what it was. It was a power ring, just like the ones the superheroes, including her Gold Lantern (what was his name, anyway? Part of her resolved to find out) wore.

She turned the ring over and over in her hands, dimly aware that she was only delaying the inevitable. "It…what is…what is this?"

"What you need. You would oppose injustice, and preserve the Unity. Take it, Stacey. Become who you were meant to be. Who you truly are."

Moving as if in a dream, she put the ring on the middle finger of her right hand, knowing just the right place. The ring began to glow, a bright silver glow, and the words came to her lips:

"In brightest day, in blackest night

"With heart and soul, I pledge to fight

"No more will wrong be seen as right!

"'Till all are One, in silver light!"

To be continued….