Disclaimer: Don't own Aberrant, White Wolf does (or is it Onyx publishing). Don't own The Incredibles, Pixar and Brad Bird do (and they would kill me if they saw what I have done to their 'verse). And I don't own the elements of that other universe that is popping up here in this chapter. That would be Time/Warner that owns those creations.

Author's Notes: The semi-cross into JLU starts here...and it will continue for a few chapters. Then, if anyone who wants to follow what's going on in that 'verse, check out the "Collision fic".

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."

-Oscar Wilde

25 December

NSA Holding Facility

Metroville, California

Richard Dicker sighed as he looked through the one way glass and studied the old man who was manacled to a chair and sitting behind the table. One of the mysteries that plagued him throughout his career with the NSA was the enigmatic and reclusive Mr. Mitchell Carter. The man was a ghost, having surfaced briefly in the public light around the 1950s and 60s before literally fading away into obscurity. To most, Mitchell Carter was just a name on a letterhead belonging to a company called BGI Conglomerated or just one of many names of many investors in various companies around the world.

He was hiding in plain sight and nobody saw him because nobody really puts a face to a name that is seen only on financial business reports.

And yet, investigation into this man took Dicker from a trail that currently started in various private non-Utopia affiliated scientific research firms and stretched far back into other industries, beginning with the entertainment industry back in the 1940s. In fact, Dicker found it amusing that this Mitchell Carter was the driving force behind DC comics and Warner Brothers, having helped create some iconic characters that, while looking rather ridiculous (particularly during the '60s and '70s), had worked their way into the cultural psyche of general public.

Until Galatea happened, then companies like DC and Marvel nearly went bankrupt. No one wants to read comic books or watch cartoons about heroes when all one has to do is tune into N!Channel or any other media outlet to see real novas in action. Hell, all one has to do is go outside and they have a chance of seeing a super-powered being flying around in the air or running by.

And yes, the Galatea incident had nearly killed various companies that specialized in selling entertainment that centered around the "superhero" genre. Marvel and DC had once again become "The Big Two", although it could be argued that was a misnomer and they should have been called "The Surviving Two" and their influence had waned especially when Utopia was founded and N!Channel began broadcasting shortly after that.

Both companies nearly went bankrupt and had to cut back on various productions there were involved with...basically returning back to cranking out a limited number of comic books and the odd movie. Marvel practically cut everything back to just its "X-Men" franchise because the concept of "mutant struggle against oppression" struck a chord with the society obsessed with novas and Dicker was certain that a lot of young novas made up a lot of Marvel's targeted audience.

Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if the Teragen funneled money to Marvel.

DC, and Warner Brothers for that matter, got hurt even more. After the horrors that were the last couple Batman films in the mid-90s, Galatea almost put the final nails into what would have been DC's coffin. However, the company managed to survive (after major cutbacks), but the only successful media project they had outside of their comics was a series called "Smallville" that centered around the genesis of their flagship character. Dicker couldn't help snickering at the concept of a character called "Superman".

After dealing with real beings of power, especially people like Michael Daemon Donighal, Destroyer, or even the youngest member of the Parr family, Superman is a fucking joke.

His gaze then focused back on the man in the interrogation room.

And it's hard to believe this man is responsible for creating those characters but also invested in various other companies that helped contribute to the advancement of civilization right on up to today. And he wasn't even connected to Aeon in any way.

He frowned as another question crossed his mind as he remembered the report he read regarding the attack on David Flynn.

So where the hell did you get Zero Point Technology that looks more advanced than what Flynn or Buddy Pine ever produced, Mr. Carter? Who the hell are you? Who is the man behind Booster Gold International Conglomerated?

Dicker always thought that company's name was more than a mouthful and often wondered if Carter came up with that name as a joke that he had yet to reveal the punchline to.

And then there's the interesting conversation you had with Flynn when you attempted to kill him. The feed was mostly corrupted and even Flynn is having problem trying to clean it up. You did one hell of a number on his security system...what's your story? What are you playing at?

That was when Mitchell Carter looked up from the table and at the one-way mirror. "So," he said, "is this where one of you decide to come in and interrogate me? Or are you afraid to talk to a senile old man?"

And that, Dicker thought as he exited the observation room, entered the adjoining hallway and reached for the door to the interrogation room, is my cue.

He opened the door and calmly closed it behind him as he stood there for a minute to study Carter's reaction. To his credit, Carter hid his surprise behind a bemused expression and an arched eyebrow. "NSA Director Richard Dicker," he gave Dicker a tiny smile, "I must say I'm surprised that you were able to be drawn out of your little dungeon of conspiracies and king-making."

"As if you're one to talk," Dicker snorted as he sat down in a chair across from Carter. "Given your involvement in American Culture ranging from entertainment, industry, and politics for nearly the last six decades, I think you got me beat in the 'king-making' business. I just find it interesting how many politicians you have supplied money to over the years. It's even more interesting that you don't favor one party."

Carter shrugged, holding up his hands in a supplicating gesture. "What can I say? I've always been one for balance. You get too many idiot Democrats in power, you need to throw an equal number of Republican idiots to balance them out. Sometimes you let one side get the upper hand for awhile, then you let the other side get their turn, then you even it out. And then, if both sides are complete idiots and beyond help, you start backing independent candidates."

"Wow," Dicker smirked, "and people think I'm a manipulative control-freak."

"You call it manipulative, I call it preserving the status-quo," Carter countered. "But I don't need to tell you that, Mr. Dicker, do I? After all, you're doing the exact same thing, but you have a government office to hide behind that also allows you to do the things you've done. Unlike you, I just use my own money." He smiled again as he set his hands back on the table. "Your funding is taken from the American taxpayer. Tell me, how do the American people feel about paying for an organization like yours that spies on them and, more than occasionally, eliminates threats either through intimidation, memory wipes, or...well...simple elimination?"

"Spare me the rhetoric, Carter." There was no anger in Dicker's voice when he spoke, just mere acceptance and resignation. "I'm certain that you know a lot about me, information no doubt provided by some political insiders you've financed and I probably answer to."

"And yet, while I know a lot about you, you are still a mystery and an enigma to me," Carter chuckled. "Just as I am to you. Two sides of the same coin I suppose. You're the man with secrets...the man who knows most of the true history of this world's supers. The man who saw the rise, the fall, the ban, and then the re-emergence. You, Mr. Dicker, are the one who knows it all, aren't you?"

"And you, Mr. Carter, are the man who helped build it all...at least until Galatea happened, then it seems your influence wanes a little bit after that."

"Galatea." Carter's cold laugh echoed slightly in the interrogation room and it did little to hide the haunted look in his eyes when he spoke the name of the orbital space station that exploded in orbit eight earlier. "Oh, Mr. Dicker," he continued, glancing down at the table for a moment before looking back up. "You have know idea what that name means to me. To you, it's the orbital space that changed the world when it detonated, spewing God knows what into the planet's jet stream and causing more supers to appear." A look of disgust appeared on his face. "And then some moron decides to call them 'nova's'...as if they could separate them from the super-powered beings that had come before."

"And what does 'Galatea' mean to you, Mr. Carter?" Dicker asked.

Carter stared at him for a moment. "A big mistake," he said. "Something created by someone who wanted to play God and they ended up losing control of their little toy which went on a rampage and killed someone that was important to someone else's mistake."

"Would you mind explaining that one?" Dicker asked. "No offense, but I don't speak cryptic."

"Oh, I could, but the story I could tell you would sound so fucked up you would believe I truly am a senile old man suffering from delusions," Carter replied.

"Delusions," Dicker repeated. "We live in a world populated by people with godlike abilities and technology that, only a decade ago, was merely science fiction or just outright fantasy. Throw in the fact that you were caught with technology that is far beyond what David Flynn or Buddy Pine developed; I think it's safe to say that you aren't a delusional old man."

"Then what am I, exactly?"

"You're a threat that was tossed in my lap because David Pine Flynn didn't kill you."

"No, he didn't, which is kind of strange. Given what I know about him, I figured I would be nothing more than a greasy smear on the floor of his office building by now."

"Probably because, unlike his father, he's not a cold blooded killer," Dicker said. "He prefers to make his enemies live and suffer which makes me wonder which one of us he's actually punishing."

"You don't trust that boy, do you?"

"No, but he has proved to be an asset."

"Ah yes, an asset," Carter nodded, "you keep him around because he is waging war against Utopia."

"Something like that, but I also like to believe his heart is in the right place."

"His heart." Carter scoffed and shook his head again. "That's pretty funny...he has no heart. Oh, I'm sure he cares about those close to him, but believe me when I say that won't stop him from killing millions when he finally does snap." He seemed to sag a little in his chair, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Believe me, I know."

"Would this happen to have something to do with the comments you made to Miss Kilmarten about her alleged death."

"Alleged? Nothing alleged about it." Carter then leaned forward. "Okay, Dicker, let me lay it out for you...someone's going to attack David, they're going to take him and try to break him. All they're going to do is pretty much piss him off and when he escapes, they'll send their big guns after him and Zoe is going to get killed in the crossfire. Long story short, he snaps and a good chunk of Washington DC is going to become a smoking crater when he's done, followed by the rest of the world falling into a new dark age. I'm trying to stop that."

"So what're you, some sort of time traveler?"

"Something like that." Carter tilted his head to the side, a curious look on his face as he studied Dicker's expression. "And yet, from the look on your face, you don't seem too bothered by that revelation. That tells me that you don't believe me and think I'm crazy."

"Oh, I believe you," Dicker said. "I've seen enough weird shit to not dismiss you as crazy, but I do know that there's something you're not telling me."

"That's all I can tell you. But if you want my advice, lock David Flynn up in the most secure hole you can find for the next six months. Maybe they won't come for him."

"And who, exactly, are 'they'?"

"The people who are coming from the other place, their called Ca-AAAARRRRGH!" Carter suddenly convulsed in his chair as blue electrical sparks danced around his body. This continued for a few more seconds before it ended with him and his chair falling to the floor.

"Someone get medical in here," Dicker barked as he jumped out of his chair and moved over to where Carter's still twitching body was lying on the floor. He reached down to touch the man's neck and found a pulse, but it was faint. A couple seconds later, two paramedics came in and tended to the old man while Dicker watched, several questions going through his head.

If time travel was involved, how far in the future are we talking? Who are these people you were talking about? If they weren't Aeon, who are they?

That last question alone bothered Dicker the most. If they weren't Aeon or anyone connected to them, that meant it was a threat unknown to him. And Dicker didn't like it when facing an enemy he didn't know was coming.

SST Campus

Metroville, California

December 25

"Ow," David winced as the pillow hit him in the face. "Amanda Megan Flynn...that fucking hurt."

The twenty year old young woman with chestnut hair wearing sweats and an Air Force t-shirt leaned forward and smacked her little brother on the back of the head. "And that's for fucking swearing, brat."

"Harpy," David fired back before giving his foster sister a grin. "So, how's your first year at the Academy?"

"Oh you know, first class cadets are basically bullied by the upper classmen who seem to take it upon themselves to drum out those they deem as weak. And then there's the classes and the physical training on top of that." Amanda then sat down on the couch next to David, taking a moment to look around his little suite. "You got one hell of a place here, kiddo. Your own company, your little condo/office/living space."

"Y'know, you could just apply for a job here once you get your engineering degree," David said.

Amanda shook her head. "Nah, flying's in my blood and, let's be honest, I'm not an egghead like you and your crew."

"Hey, take that back," David mocked whined.

"If the shoe fits, wear it, runt," Amanda giggled as she playfully punched David in the arm.

"Ow! That's it...call CPS...I want to file a complaint...heeeeeeeeelp!"

"Won't work, kiddo, you're over eighteen."

"Dammit!"

In the kitchen of David's suite, Neil smiled as he listened to his two kids antics. For a brief moment, he felt a hint of sadness as he remembered his wife Sarah who had been dead for the last three years. Then he pushed the memory away while he poured himself a glass of egg-nog and continued his discussion with the other man in the kitchen. "So, that's all you got from the man?"

"Afraid so," Dicker replied before taking a sip of his coffee cup. "Apparently, there are some sort of sub-dermal implants near the base of his skull. Whoever was linked to them must have monitored our conversation and shut him up."

"Hmmm." Neil had a thoughtful look on his face as he replayed the events Dicker had described through his mind.

"What is it?" Dicker asked. "You don't normally go 'hmmm' unless something sticks out to you."

"These implants, what exactly are they?"

"That's the crazy thing, Neil, we have no fucking clue. I had some of my people look at them and the best they can come up with is some sort of synaptic link that allows Carter to link to electronics."

"Like David can."

"Yes, but not quite as efficient...but well beyond anything we, or even Aeon, could come up with."

Neil frowned at that last comment from Dicker, but finished off his egg-nog before he spoke. "You know, I'm not sure I like where this is headed. When you say 'beyond anything' you or Aeon can come up with, are you saying that this is prototype stuff."

"No, this is stuff that is still theoretical and not even pass the 'rough schematics drawn on a piece of scratch paper' stage." Dicker's shoulders sagged slightly in defeat. "This is something unknown and whoever provided Carter with this technology is doing the best to cover their tracks."

"I think you might be wrong about that," Neil said, his eyes narrowing as he considered some of the possible scenarios regarding Carter. It took him a couple seconds to narrow them down to three possibilities before he finally decided to eliminate two of them.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think someone is trying to cover their tracks. I mean, if I were in their position, I would have just triggered the implants to kill Carter; but they didn't kill him, did they?"

"No, but it put him in a coma," Dicker replied. Then he suddenly brought his head up as the realization hit him. "They didn't kill him, but they made him unavailable to us."

"Whoever 'they' were." Neil's voice began to sound more certain. "Here's a thought, what if there's no 'they'? What if he intentionally triggered those implants to go off?"

"Interesting idea, but what would be the point?"

"Leverage. He's in a coma, you can't get him out of it, right?"

"We considered it, but that would involve trying to remove those implants and I'm willing to bet those are booby trapped."

"It means he's untouchable for the moment. But if he triggered that coma, that also means something else."

"And what might that be?" Dicker had a sick feeling where his semi-retired top agent was going with this.

Instead of answering right away, Neil reached into a nearby cupboard and pulled out a bottle of scotch along with a couple shot glasses. "To but it bluntly," he said as he filled each glass before handing one to Dicker. "I think this is just a temporary thing." He then slammed back his shot, savoring the taste for a moment before the liquid burned its way down his throat. "What bothers me is what he's going to do when he wakes up."

A few hours later, David stood in his main office, studying the various holographic data being projected around him. He knew he should be down in the lobby with others who, after cleaning up the damage, were now hanging out and trying some new games that were to be released for the Omega Console System, but something said to him by the mysterious Mitchell Carter kept bothering him.

"Oh come now, Flynn, even you must have started picking up the quantum fissures happening at random across the US."

That sentence kept playing itself over and over again in David's head, even with a dose of Nigel's painkillers. And then, of course, there was that little holographic projection of him supposedly wiping out a chunk of Washington DC.

Except I haven't done that, nor do I plan to. But something tells me that wasn't just some made up footage. It was real, which makes me wonder, was this in the future?

He almost dismissed that thought immediately, but stopped as he realized there were some novas who did possess the ability for limited time travel.

But no one's displayed this kind of ability except maybe Max Mercer, but he disappeared decades ago. The few novas that do possess time manipulation can only do it for a few minutes at the most. For others, it's more about precognition and glimpsing near alternate futures based on the decisions they make.

"...quantum fissures happening at random across the US."

Across the US? Hold on a second...

David expanded his mental link to the 'net, jacking into various Satellite systems that were monitoring energy signatures around the world. After taking a moment to create a program algorithm to search for "Zero Point" or Quantum Energy emissions that were not generated by a nova, he plugged it into the satellite search parameters. Two minutes later, he was presented with an orbital view of the continental US. It was what appeared four point three-seven seconds after that that caught him off guard.

What...the...fuck?

Tiny little light blue blobs signaling non-nova generated Quantum emissions began to pop up, centering around New York, Washington DC, Santa Fe, and Metroville. He spent the next minute backtracking the data going back over the previous weeks and discovered that these events started barely a month ago.

Spotty at first, only a couple instances...but then they begin growing in intensity, focusing mostly around Santa Fe, New York, DC, and here. However, the ones in Santa Fe aren't nearly as frequent as the others. In fact, Santa Fe hasn't had much activity since the other "fissures" started appearing more frequently at the other locations, particularly when activity expanded here and in New York.

He was about to do another scan of the activity and track down particular patterns when he felt a faint breeze flow through the room before a pair of arms wrapped around his chest followed by the faint pressure of someone resting her chin on his left shoulder accompanied by the faint scent of the lavender-scented body wash she used. "Whatcha' doin?"

Despite the intrusion, David smiled. "Nothing much, really," he said as waved his hand, causing the holographic projection to disappear and be replaced by the stand-by SST corporate logo. He then turned around and kissed Zoe before she could say anything. For a moment their hands were starting to explore each other while they kissed, but David pulled away, breaking the kiss as it started to get more intense and hands were beginning to wander into dangerous territory. "Sorry," he chuckled as he held her, "can't go there yet."

Zoe pouted. "That's mean," she said. "You start to get me all heated up and then kill the moment."

"Your uncle...my soul...ripped out...used as toilet paper...put back in," David recited with a smirk. "And I actually believe him capable of doing that."

"You know Uncle Nathan's just joking, right?"

David gave her an incredulous look. "Zoe," he said, "trust me when I say that your Uncle Nathan is one of the few people that scares the hell out of me. Even if he can't actually rip my soul out of my body like he claims, I'm certain he can do things to me that will make me wish I was dead. So I'm not taking the chance." Then he gave her devious smile. "Besides, it's only ten more months...I can wait."

"But a lot can happen between now and then," Zoe said. "You could get hurt or killed. The world could end. Utopia might find some way of imprisoning you. Or worse, you could find someone else."

David had to laugh at that. "Really, Zoe?" he asked. "While I admit there's a good chance that some of those possibilities MIGHT have a chance of happening, I don't see myself willingly jumping into those situations. As for the last part, I seriously doubt that. You're one of the few people who's honest with me and you don't look at me as some uber-powered mega geek or as a potential asset to be used and exploited for your evil purposes." Then his expression softened as he reached up to lightly hold her chin with one hand. "The moment we met, we clicked, nothing's gonna' change that."

He kissed her again, this time not as intently and, after a couple seconds, Zoe pulled away and nodded at the floating SST logo behind him. "So what were you working on?" she asked.

"Nothing really, just trying to figure out some things about our mystery guest, but that can wait. After all, he's in a coma and not going anywhere. And Besides, I would like to enjoy Christmas with those I care about."

"Is that a lie?" Zoe asked. Though the tone was playful, David could see the hint of suspicion in her eyes.

"Not really," he replied. "But while I do want to find out more about our mystery guest, it would be rude to ignore everyone here, especially when you all saved my ass from getting killed."

For a moment, Zoe's expression was unreadable as she stared at him. David knew this expression, it was one of those times when the usually cheerful and fun-loving attitude Zoe was known for disappeared as she tried to determine if someone was telling the truth (which she was surprisingly good at and would get really pissed off if she determined she was being lied to). After a couple more seconds, she smiled and cocked her head to the side. "You're damn right we saved your ass," she laughed before suddenly disappearing in pink blur.

David sighed and shook his head as he followed her out the door, limping slightly and clutching his ribs. Oh yeah, he thought, maybe I should take it easy and just enjoy the holidays.

As the door to his office closed behind him, he decided that investigating this phenomenon could wait. With the upcoming trial of Caestus Pax to take place in January, David knew that this final week of the year would probably be one of the few times he could enjoy being with those he cared about.

Christmas and New Years with friends and family or conspiracy? The hell with it...the conspiracy isn't going anywhere.

Another Universe

Unknown Facility

Santa Fe, New Mexico

Amanda Waller watched with curiosity as the portal flared back into existence and a lone figure walked through it. She had her doubts that this project would work, but CADMUS had the best scientific minds available and even she was impressed when they were able to actually reverse engineer the technology to create a working "Boom Tube" based off of a salvaged Apokoliptan mother-box. Combined with other reverse engineered technology they had acquired, some had theorized that it was possible to go to other dimensions.

Though she scoffed at the idea, Waller knew the idea had some merit, especially after the fiasco with the Justice League and their Justice Lords counterparts. Within months, they had managed to build a working prototype. The first test only lasted a couple seconds, but it did create a "window" to another world. The second test involved sending an actual person into that world for a two minute window before returning. Now, after several more tests lasting longer than several minutes at a time, it was determined that the world hey had discovered was startlingly similar to their own despite some notable differences.

"Well, Agent Downery?" she asked the dark haired man as he held up a small data pad and the portal he just walked out of flashed out of existence behind him.

"Oh yeah, Director Waller," Agent Downery replied with a grin as he tapped on the small screen. "It wasn't much, but I was able to link to the net over there. The world looks very much like our own and though it's only about twenty minutes worth…I think it might prove interesting." Though he didn't go any further, Amanda's thoughts were along the same lines. If this was indeed a parallel world, it or other worlds like it might be a viable source of technology that could be used against their enemies.

For a moment, Amanda felt some regret. Part of her didn't like the fact she was looking for weapons to be used against the League; however, after events such as the attempted invasion by Darkseid, the Thanagarian invasion, the attempted takeover by the Justice Lords, and the revelation that the League had a functioning orbital weapon capable of obliterating city sized targets, she knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

A war is coming…and we will need every weapon available to fight it. I just hope to God that it doesn't happen before we're ready.