A/N: Hehehehe… I'm so far beyond sorry at this point I think I've just kind of accepted that I should never post a chapter unless I have at least another in the bank. A lesson I will apply later, as I haven't even started Chapter Eleven yet.
As for news, all three books of Kleonauts are officially complete! The first few chapters in the volume are rough, not gonna lie, but they're being edited before we start Volume 2 and I think we finished quite strong. Go to my bio for details.
Also, I'm on Discord! Well, I was always on Discord, but now I have a dedicated channel in the Emerald Library Server! Just Google the server name or deal with link shenanigans:
disboard-dot-org-slash-server-slash-762106441489973278
I will be decently active there, so if you wanna chat about any of my stories (present or future) or just nag me about the next update, feel free! If the channel isn't active enough it'll be removed, so even if you want to tell me how much I suck please do so on there.
Cheers!
—TheUnHolySmirk
CHAPTER TEN
"Aaaaagh!" Xan cried out her frustration at the unsympathetic ceiling. "Why on God's green Earth are these stupid squiggles so fucking convoluted!? How was anyone literate?" She hefted the book above her head—a single hair's width from flinging it at the wall—when she jerked to a stop and collapsed in her chair, the ancient text slipping from her slack fingers.
"Hey, chin up, mate," Harry took a spot on the floor at her feet. He made a vague attempt at swiping away the stubborn remaining flecks of dust clinging to the cracked cover. "It's only been two days. We've spent more time doing less, and things turn out alright."
Xan dragged her head over the armrest and glared down at him. "You weren't dying."
"Technically, we're always—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll start a division of your church in the DEO."
Harry was midway through scoffing when he saw the look in Xan's eye. That particular mix of irritation, fatigue and conviction wasn't to be trifled with. "That doesn't seem equivalent at all!"
"You're right. The church doesn't make poorly-timed jokes about the death of my best friend, thus causing me undue psychological harm."
"It wasn't really a joke, more of a correction—"
"That means 'shut up', Harry," she stage-whispered as she snatched the book back, bopping it against his head.
"Shutting up."
"What did you do?"
Harry didn't know whether he'd be justified feeling a bit put out. He'd shown Lena every magical wonderment under the sun—plus a few more that only featured at night—and yet she had never been near as awed as she was staring at the small blister on the back of his hand.
"I was brewing," he explained dryly. "Xan surprised me. I burned my hand on the cauldron."
"How?" she asked, utterly baffled for no discernible reason.
"It was hot! I don't know what to tell you, Lena, it's just a small burn, it'll go away in a few days."
"Harry, you don't have blood. You're essentially an animated corpse; you shouldn't have any involuntary function."
"Well, magic runs my body. Why can't it so this as well?"
"Magic lets you walk, talk and pretend to eat and drink. If it did much else you wouldn't have kept going this long. I've been tracking how many Morganas you burn in your day-to-day."
"Sorry, Morganas?"
"What?" Lena shuffled in place, taking a slightly defensive posture. She's always just referred to magic as 'magic' when she would explain her findings to him. "I invented the technology to measure your magic, I can name the units whatever I want."
"I'm not questioning your ability, more your naming sense. Why Morgana? Why not Luthor? Or if you're dead-set on a magical figure, why not Merlin?"
"Because he was a man?" Lena half-teased, pushing a small syringe into Harry's blister.
"Because he wasn't a mass murderer."
Lena coughed and pulled back on the plunger. "I forget sometimes that they're real people to you. Actual historical figures instead of myths and folk tales." She pulled the syringe away and peered curiously at the fluid inside. It was viscous and pitch black, almost like a particularly malevolent tube of tree sap. Lena froze, gaping at the mysterious liquid. "Oh my god…" With practised precision, she applied a thin layer of the substance to a slide before slotting it under a microscope. "Oh my god!"
She was clearly distracted—her motions were automatic, almost muscle memory—but Harry could still sense her excitement. If it was probably the least composed he'd ever seen her. She looked like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing between different monitors and machines.
"What is it?" Harry figured an unknown, oily black fluid would be a bad thing, but from Lena's reaction, it was anything but.
"When you first came into my lab, you told me you didn't have any blood, so I took everything else I could. Skin samples, saliva, spinal fluid. I stored them away for analysis, but they were destroyed in the machine. They turned to that." She pointed at the black substance. "I concluded it was a waste product. The leftover tissue and cells devoid of your magic. Further tests confirmed this after subsequent visits. After they lost contact with your body, and thus their source of magic, they melted. I even kept track of their Morganas. There was a short, rapid bleed before it hit zero and changed. Apparently, I was wrong."
Harry picked up the glass tube and peered at the liquid inside. "Why not tell me?"
Lena shrugged, before tapping a sequence into her tablet and waving at the different screens, now displaying dozens of complicated-looking charts and numbers. "All it did was confirm what we knew. Every test I ran on it turned up nothing; it was completely inert. I don't walk you through step-by-step how I run all of your tests, I just give you the results and how they pertain to your problem."
The sudden influx of information from the monitors swam in Harry's head as he tried to match the figures to tangible phenomena. "And this is a good thing?"
"It's new," she corrected. "As things were, it seemed like a lost cause. From the information we had, it felt…" she trailed off, before shaking her head slightly and moving on. "New is in short supply. It could bridge concepts in different ways, it could open doors that were previously closed. We have another factor to consider, and if it does anything, it'll paint a clearer picture of just what is happening to your body.
"I don't want to get your hopes up," she added, though she obviously wasn't following her own advice.
And as much as he cursed himself for it, neither was he.
"—And now, as we approach the third anniversary of that blessed day, we must ask ourselves 'why?' Why now? Why has the Gatekeeper chosen to announce Himself to our generation? Brothers and sisters, I implore you to see the signs that He left us. He gave us a taste of salvation to motivate us to join Him in holy arms, to fight at His side in the final battle with Death."
…
What?
"Where did you find this?" he asked after picking his jaw off the floor. Meanwhile, the speaker went off on a tangent about doorways or something.
"Oh, thank god, you're alive," Winslow wheezed out, clutching his chest. "Jesus, Dude. How are you able to stay still that long? Were you even breathing?"
"No," he shook his head absent-mindedly, his eyes glued to the screen, burning the preacher's image in his mind. The idiot was wearing a mask—a beaten brass plate with vaguely humanoid features—but it wasn't like he was being subtle. His posture, his gait, his manner of speaking. Harry committed it all to memory. Plus, how many preachers gave sermons fully dressed for combat? That took a special kind of crazy. A recognisable kind.
"'No'? What do you mean, 'no'?"
"Where did you find this!?" Harry repeated, ignoring his question. He really wasn't in the right mindset for an interrogation about his physiology.
"Our analysts have been trolling a few forums aliens use to buy new identities, and an offhand comment led us down a rabbit hole seven layers deep in the Dark Web. At the end of it…" He waved at the monitor.
Harry cursed under his breath and turned his attention back to the screen.
"Brothers and sisters, Death thinks she's won." The in-person audience jeered and hissed at the mention of this supposed female Death. "She expects all beings to submit and surrender to her. She expects the cowardice she spent millennia cultivating in us! She expects…" he paused to let the building excitement settle a bit, breathing heavily through his mask."She expects every soul—human and alien alike—to accept our fates under her oppressive boot. We. Defy. Her expectations!" The audio blew out as the crowd went wild, their raucous applause drowning out any input from the speaker's mic. When the noise finally rolled down to more manageable levels, he continued, "How many of you have lost loved ones? Your spouse. Your parents. Your children. How many were stolen from you? Your family, your friends, you're therapist… they'll tell you it's okay to be sad. Mourn. Grieve. Well, I don't want you to be sad. I think you should be angry."
As the crowd rumbled their collective agreement, Xan burst through the door.
"There you are!" she huffed when she caught sight of Winslow. She marched over and paused when she caught sight of Harry. "The hell are you doing here?"
"Lovely to see you as always, mate."
Xan rolled her eyes and pulled him into a loose hug. "Oh, shut up, you know what I mean. You wouldn't be caught dead here on a normal day. What's going on?" she asked when she saw the screen.
"You're tech guy found this live stream. I'm eighty per cent sure you're looking at Agent Liberty."
Xan's eyebrows rose as she leaned closer to the screen, scanning the contours of Liberty's mask. "The guy the Mortal Moles told you about?"
He nodded.
"'Tech guy'? I have a name, man."
Harry was fully prepared to ignore him, but Xan swatted him on the back of the head and sent Winslow an apologetic look. "Sorry, Winn. This is amazing, you're a god-send. We're recording?"
"Always," Winslow confirmed.
"Point of origin?"
"Not yet. Our satellites are following the trail, but the signal's been bounced around every third world country on the map."
"That's ominous," Harry observed.
"It's standard procedure," corrected Xan. "Okay. Keep trying to pin a location." She turned to face Harry. "We need to talk later. Could you meet Maggie and me for dinner at our place?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, uncertain if her tone warranted his budding concern. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," she rushed out. "We just want to ask you something."
'Xan, you lying bitch.'
Harry made a show of cleaning his ear with his pinky. "I'm going to need you to repeat that because I don't think I heard you correctly."
"We need you to distract Kara for a day," Xan repeated, wincing even as she doubled down. "We don't know exactly when yet, but at some point soon you'll need to keep her attention for twenty-four hours."
"You could bring Lena," Maggie added. "Winn too, I know you don't have problems with him."
"Besides his borderline worship of everything Kryptonian."
"Besides that, yeah," the detective agreed, unfazed.
"You can say 'no'," Xan offered weakly.
Harry deadpanned. "No, I can't." They wouldn't ask if it wasn't vitally important.
"No, you can't," nodded Maggie.
"So how about you? What've you been up to?" Lena prompted.
Unbeknownst to a certain nosy doctor, Harry and Lena started having weekly lunches together in her office to catch each other up on the goings-on in their respective lives. They were already meeting for Harry's tests, and the ability to unwind and rant at an understanding party was invaluable for people as busy as they both were.
"Winslow found the church."
Lena's eyes went wide, her interest clearly piqued. "Really?"
Harry nodded. "Or, at least, their online presence. They had a looping broadcast run over the dark web spouting all the gifts the Gatekeeper is supposedly meant to give them. Usual tripe: eternal life, end of disease, whatever. They think I'm a woman. Or, well, they think Death is a woman."
Her well-kept eyebrows scrunched together. "But… you're… I thought—"
"Yep. According to this idiot, Death and the Gatekeeper are immortal enemies, constantly fighting a holy war for control of the universe. I watched the full sermon last night. They have a long list of stupid shit they claim garners my divine attention," he explained, rolling his eyes. "They cross thresholds sideways! They literally turn and side-step through doors! Because they think it's a sign of respect for me, I guess. Well, not the Death me, the Gatekeeper me."
Lena had an odd look on her face, but she kept her silence. Harry was slowly starting to wonder if he'd said something wrong.
"Lena?"
She blinked, her eyes refocusing on Harry, a growing look of concern realisation on her face. She leaned forward and pressed her finger firmly onto a black box in the centre of the table. "Eve, could you come in here for a moment?"
"Of course, Miss Luthor," a bright, professional voice responded. "Be right there."
"Thank you." Lena sat up straight and stared intently at her office doors.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, instinctually following her gaze.
"Just watch."
After thirty seconds of nothing, the rightward door swung open.
"Yes, Miss Luthor?"
The source of the voice was an attractive woman with curly blonde hair and more pep in her posture than a competitive cheerleader… and she was walking through the door sideways. The movement was under the guise of simply pushing the door with her hip since her hands were full, but it was undeniable.
"Eve, I'd like you to meet Harry. He's the subject of a study we're doing here at L-Corp on eidetic memory."
"Oh. Of course! Very nice to meet you, Harry."
Harry nodded absently. "You too."
There was a slight, awkward lapse as no one said anything.
"Will that be all, Miss Luthor?"
"Yes, thank you, Eve. As a matter of fact, why don't you go ahead and take the rest of the day off."
"A-are you sure?"
"You've earned it," Lena smiled.
The woman beamed at them before turning to leave, pausing at the door.
"Let me," Lena offered as she stood to help. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thank you so much!" she said giddily, extending her stride just enough so that her foot crossed the threshold and she could briefly be seen in profile. With a practised motion, she slid her other foot in front of her and walked in the direction she was now facing down the hall. Lena's careful gaze followed her until she cleared the corner.
"Can you set a Reaper to tail her?"
"Not unless I want Adam hounding me for the next month."
"Then it looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way. Let's go." She swung her bag over her shoulder and rushed out. "Quickly! We'll lose her!"
Harry stared at the swinging door, his mind tottering between the organised calm of Lena's office and whatever shenanigans lay ahead.
Lena stuck her head back through the door and waved impatiently. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, before leaving once more.
Harry shook his head in disbelief before sweeping their untouched lunch into the bag. They could eat in the car. It wasn't like they were pretending to be classy. Which poor, out-of-touch soul named a restaurant Big Belly Burger in obesity-ridden modern America?
"Holy shit."
"I know, right? I swear they put drugs in their patties, it's the only logical explanation. Now stop eating. We need to watch the road."
"I'm not driving."
"You are not going to eat without me, especially not while I can smell it. Put it away, or I'll buy the company and put out a 'Do Not Serve' order nationwide."
"I mean, we've got to be stopping soon, right?" Harry hedged, slowly bringing the burger up to his mouth.
"Do you think I'm bluffing?"
His eyes narrowed before he took a defiant bite.
"Oh, now you've done it! That's it, banned for life. Enjoy that burger, you selfish barbarian. It'll be your last."
"Hmm?" Harry asked, his mouth full. He couldn't believe he'd been on this Earth for nearly three years and hadn't tasted what might have been its finest achievement in foodstuffs. He swallowed. "What is taking so long? You don't pay her enough to afford a place in the city?"
"She's not going home."
Harry's eyes shot back to their mark. "The church?" Surely, they weren't that lucky.
"Doubtful. But not impossible. She's looking this way, don't react."
He nodded and took another bite. Eve's careful eyes scanned over their position in her rearview mirror, barely pausing at their faces before moving on. Covert missions were leagues lower octane when his partner had unrestrained means to trick her car out with the most powerful illusionary technology on the planet. Image Inducers really were ridiculous.
"Hold on…" Lena muttered under her breath as they took a sharp exit off the motorway. "But why would you…?"
"What?"
"She's going to Albatross Bay."
"I'm sorry?"
"It's a prison. They hold most of National City's mundane criminals. The ones that use guns and knives instead of lasers and superpowers."
"Has an alien ever used their bullshit for tax evasion?"
"W-what?" Lena stumbled over the sudden shift in conversation.
"Well—what—ninety per cent of the alien criminals Kara deals with are always insane or stealing something or blowing something up. Can't I wish for some creativity?
"I'm certain it happens, but I have serious doubts that tax evasion is particularly high on her list of priorities. She's more concerned with saving lives." Her posture invited challenge; Kara was one of the few sticking points between them.
"Is she? I get things like muggings and general chaos, natural disasters and the like, but she actively endangers every civilian in the area when she goes rampaging into the middle of—say—a bank robbery. If the robbers show up, take the cash and make a clean getaway, no one gets hurt. Then Kara can follow them until they're far away from any possible collateral casualties and detain them there. She's bulletproof. And can fly at Mach 7. Wouldn't make a difference to her. Or the bank, for that matter.
"Kara's concern isn't on saving lives, it's feeling like she's saving lives. Appearing like she's doing something and basking in the accolades that come with it. She wants to be a superhero. A symbol. The Girl of Steel. The Woman of Tomorrow. With a new haircut and fresh look every year, to boot. Wouldn't want those front-page appearances looking too similar, now would we? If she really was concerned with stopping as much crime as possible, she'd never slow down. She has a desire to be seen."
"I don't think that's entirely fair. She can't be everywhere at once."
"She could get a hell of a lot closer than anyone else. She routinely brings you pastries from France, just on a whim. At her speeds, the world is essentially her backyard. Plus, with her hearing, nowhere is outside of her monitoring, either. How many crimes do you think she ignores while showboating in Madrid?"
…
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Harry smirked but held his tongue. Lena was quicker than a whip on her worse days and undeniably headstrong. He took his wins when he could get them.
"Oh, grow up. You can sit in the back for the drive home."
"You really want me in your car where you can't see me at all times?"
Lena made a face and turned to look out the windshield, pointedly ignoring him.
"So who's at Albatross?"
"Hello, child."
"That's him."
Thomas Coville. Supposedly a cultist who worshipped Kara, putting his congregation in danger so that they might be saved by Supergirl.
"Should I be concerned L-Corp has tech like this? Serious breach of privacy, surely?"
"We didn't make it. At least, not the baseline models. The original designs are from a medi-cybertech acquisition: Spheerical Industries. They focused on applications of nano-machines in curing terminal illnesses, cancer primarily. The possible uses in espionage didn't go unnoticed by the government, so the whole project was shut down pretty early. It's just been sitting in a vault for the past year and a half, it's time I got some use out of it."
"Not really the spirit of my question, Lena."
"Do you want to be able to hear or not?"
Harry shook his head and refocused on the transmission.
"—problem for us. They interrupted an Anti-Crossing."
"An Anti-Crossing?"
"It's a naming ceremony. We were welcoming a new life."
"Sounds lovely, but you can't think I had anything to do with it. I've been in here, as you well know. You've certainly visited enough to be sure of that. Always with a fresh accusation, always so full of anger. Turn to Rao, my child. See His Light shining through Her, and soon you will shed such negative emotions. You'll finally be happy."
"Your false god cowers in the face of the Gatekeeper!" Eve's obvious vitriol didn't mesh with the kindly image Harry had in his mind. She was raging at Coville like it was personal. Like they knew each other well, and neither liked what they knew.
"Oh, yes. Your Gatekeeper. The Flickering One. He who acts in bursts. Meanwhile, Supergirl spreads her salvation constantly, bringing more and more children to His Light. She is no pretender. Your god is barely a poltergeist."
There was a sudden crash and some muffled shouting.
"Did… did Eve just throw something?"
"Maybe she jumped out of her chair?"
"Get down," Lena prompted, tapping a command into her dash.
"What?"
Her manicured nails dug into his upper arm and pulled him behind the glovebox. "Whatever she did, they would have removed her for it. She's on her way out."
"How would you know?"
"It's standard procedure."
"You have an irksome habit of not answering the spirit of my questions."
"Word them better and it won't be an issue going forward."
Harry scoffed but left it at that. If she wanted to tell him, she would. He didn't care enough to pry.
Five minutes later, Lena poked him in the elbow and held up her phone. Sure enough, there was Eve, getting back into her car. "Do we follow her? Or do you want to talk to Coville?"
While the prospect of speaking with someone familiar with the Church was tempting, the cultist wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Eve, on the other hand…
"Let's stalk your assistant," he decided, pushing himself back into the seat. "I can always come back later."
"Must you say it like that?"
"You told me to word things better. Ambiguity is a thing of the past," he smirked.
Lena rolled her eyes and pushed a button on the dash. The car rumbled to life, the soft vibrations of the electric engine humming beneath Harry's legs. "You're hilarious."
"Thank you very much, I'm well aware."
"Humble, as well."
"Naturally," he grinned, leaning back in his seat as they peeled away from the parking lot.
They trailed Eve for the remainder of the day as she aimlessly drove around National City, running mundane errands and probably complaining about California traffic. By the time the pair watched her ease into her apartment building's car park, it was well into the evening. But even after hours of ducking behind the glovebox in Lena's cramped, sporty electric, as they fruitless stalked her employee, Harry couldn't bring himself to feel too disappointed.
He tried not to dwell on why.
"So Eve is—what?—an evangelist? Missionary?"
"Let's not legitimise them, please?" Harry begged, popping a cold chip in his mouth. "She's a cultist."
"I'll have you know, she's brilliant," Lena was oddly quick to her defence. "One of the brightest minds I've ever met. I don't care what she believes in."
"Aren't you supposed to be a scientist?"
"The power she's worshipping is literally sitting in my car, spilling crumbs all over the dash. I've been studying your condition for over a month, how is that not science?"
"She hasn't."
Lena shrugged noncommittally and averted her gaze out the driver's side window.
"She hasn't, right? Lena?"
"I needed a second opinion."
"Fucking hell! Why on any Earth would you ever think that was a good idea!?"
"I didn't give her your name, or any of the specifics. She knows nothing about who you are or even if you actually exist."
Harry drew a long, steadying breath. Lena was many things, but she wasn't foolish. If she did something, she had a reason for it. "Explain."
"While I was hiring her I wanted to know what she could do. Normally I'd give her a few hypothetical scenarios without a perfect solution and see how she'd try to mitigate damages. But I was in the middle of a roadblock in your case. We'd reached a point where the technology to try and help you simply didn't exist yet, and you can always use fresh eyes when you run into a problem. So I presented her a heavily redacted version of your condition and asked how she'd try and work through it."
"And?"
"It didn't pan out."
That was it. No further elaboration. No excuse or expectation. An insecure woman would have tried to spin the failure as a success to make up for going behind his back. But they both knew Lena was his best shot at surviving the year and Harry really couldn't afford to alienate her.
"I am sorry. I shouldn't have done that without informing you, but if it takes every level of R&D in my building working around the clock to save your life, I will use them, your privacy be damned. I'm sure your doctor would agree with me."
"My doctor?"
"Alex."
…
"That's cheating."
"Where should I drop you?" To her credit, Lena didn't look too smug.
The inside of his trunk always smelt a bit stale, but it was magnitudes better than the alleyway it was set in. He took an appreciative breath and pulled the lip closed with a satisfying snap.
"Xan, you in here? I'm home!"
"Just me," a voice responded from the kitchen.
What the hell? "Maggie?"
"Get in here, we need to talk."
Harry turned the corner and came to a stop. Sure enough, there was Maggie, leaning back in her usual chair and drinking his booze. It wasn't an uncommon sight, but always with her fiancée sitting next to her. In the rare cases she was alone, it was because Xan was in the next room grinding Mortal Kombat. It wasn't that he and the detective were on poor terms—they actually got along quite well—it was just that they didn't exactly have much of a rapport on their own.
"What's up?" Harry asked, slightly warily. The last time she showed up at his trunk alone, well, he'd missed a rather important engagement.
"I need you to be level with me. Is the cult dangerous?"
"What?" Where was this coming from?
"Are they dangerous? They worship you, don't they? Is there any way they would resort to violence to spread their message?"
"I'm not affiliated with them, Maggie! No one sent me a pamphlet. They consider Death to be a blight on humanity and they think I'm in a constant battle trying to stop it. Beyond a few small rituals, I really don't know much more."
"You haven't been looking for them?"
"I've been keeping an eye out, but without my magic, there's not much I can do but wait."
Maggie cursed under her breath.
"What? What happened?"
She unlocked her phone and slid it across the table. The large, blocky letters dominating the screen immediately grabbed his attention: "NATIONAL CITY CEMETERY BURNS! Two confirmed dead!" Splashed across the page under the headline was a picture of a blackened, dead field. Soot-streaked and crumbling headstones protruded from the cracked earth, ordered in uneven rows stretching off the view of the camera.
"Jesus…" Harry dropped in the seat across from her. "When?"
"Three hours ago."
"Shit." Invisible ants crawled all over his shoulder blades.
"Are you okay?" She had a look on her face that Harry had trouble interpreting.
"Innocent people are dead. Despite Zor-El's thoughts, I'm not exactly itching to throw a parade."
"Killed in your name," she helpfully pointed out.
He scowled and polished off the rest of her drink. "Brilliant deduction, Sawyer, you should be a detective."
She kept staring.
"I'm fine."
Maggie seemed to be scanning his face for something before turning back to her phone. Whatever she found, she chose not to say.
"After the fire, the church released a manifesto denouncing the celebration of the dead. They didn't directly claim credit—attributing the attack to 'misguided zealots'—but their stance is clear."
"And you can't do anything?"
"Even if I could, we still don't know where they are, who their leader is, anything useful! We don't even have confirmation this was them."
"Nothing actionable, at least."
Maggie nodded. "Right."
"What would count as confirmation?"
"You mean besides a blatant act of terrorism in broad daylight?"
…
"Would that work?"
"What?"
"If no one actually got hurt, and I repaired any damage done afterwards, would a public act of terrorism allow you to hunt him down?"
"No." Her glare switched from the 'resting' to the 'trigger-happy' variety.
"No, it wouldn't work?"
"Just, no."
"Fine. So what can we do?"
"Oh, not a chance." She pulled her phone back and tucked it into her jacket. "You are not doing anything. I'm the detective, this is my job. You have a previous engagement. I'm only here to make sure you stick with it."
"I do?"
"You need to keep Kara busy while Alex and I handle something."
"That's today?"
Maggie nodded.
"Damn," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I was having a pretty good day, too."
"It's not all bad," an airy voice interrupted.
Harry cried out as he leaned too far and fell over the back of his seat. Dazed, he squinted up at Luna's upside-down smile.
"Hey, Lu—," he choked on the rest of her name. "L—urk!" Something was physically pushing his tongue down his throat every time he tried. "What the fuck?"
"You'll get it soon. It's strictly 'Oddball' right now."
Okay…
"Well, Oddball, have you finally learned how to get here on your own?"
"Nah, you have to go get her in twenty-three seconds," Harry's voice answered from the door.
The Reaper strained his head to see a man who looked exactly like him step into the room. Harry could just make out the tips of his leathery wings folding out of sight as he stood even with Luna.
"Hey."
"Alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good." He extracted himself from the chair and hopped deftly to his feet. After a quick once-over to ensure everything was in place, he repeated, "I'm good."
The other Harry held up his golden pocket watch. An identical watch in Harry's pocket became quite warm as its settings updated. The modifications to keep it working through time travel took weeks, but it was well worth the effort for occasions like this. "Thirteen."
"I got it." His fingers brushed against the hot metal. "When am I getting back?"
"Two days ago, around a quarter past fifteen. Just wait it out, hang around—Oddball has a list. The Mortar Moles are being uncharacteristically nice."
"Great." He certainly wasn't aware of another him traipsing about for that long. That meant he'd have to avoid himself for nearly forty hours. "Where've you been?"
His twin smirked. "You'll see."
"And you get to spend that time with me," Luna chimed in, throwing a willowy arm around his shoulder and pecking his cheek. "Blech. It's like kissing an elephant's carcass."
"And you know this, how?" Present-Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
But before she could regale him with her harrowing tale, his watch buzzed against his leg. "Oh, that's my cue. Bye Maggie! See you in a bit, Oddball."
With a crackle of static and a waft of ozone, he stepped into the Mortar.
"That elephant was alive."
They'd spent the last six hours visiting three-dozen zoos across the globe, causing general mischief wherever Luna look them. She insisted on a picture of her kissing an African bush elephant's ear. Supposedly, it was meant to invoke good luck.
The picture, not the kiss. She planned to paste the photo on the cover of the next Quibbler to hopefully boost their sales.
"I'm sure a dead one would feel the same, only colder."
"Thanks."
"You are very welcome."
Maggie was silent, gaping back and forth between Harry and the spot where the other Harry had vanished.
"Spit it out, Sawyer."
"That was you!?"
"You're fully aware I travel through time regularly. Did you not realise what that meant?"
"B-But… you…" she stammered, before throwing her hands up and leaving the kitchenette. "Don't forget! You need to keep Kara engaged from now until five in the afternoon tomorrow."
Harry made a rude gesture.
"Don't be mean, Harry," Luna chided, precariously sitting cross-legged on top of his dining table. "We've got it! Have fun!"
Maggie gave her an odd look as she climbed the sloped ladder to the outside world.
"You know she doesn't recognise you, right? Kind of the point of the charm."
"Oh, that's right. How rude of me, she must've been quite confused."
Harry let out an explosive sigh. "Well, there goes our night plans. You can stay here if you'd like. There's Mario Kart."
"Actually, I quite want to meet this girl. If that's alright with you."
"You've met her. At the Quidditch game?" Harry reminded.
"That was during her off-time. I want to know what she's like when juggling her double life."
"It's not nearly as interesting as you make it sound. It's actually quite infuriating." Something told him that Luna meeting his 'rival' would go very poorly for him.
"It's unbecoming to pout, you know."
"I'm not pouting."
A Stinging Hex struck his lower lip.
"Ouch! Fuck!" Harry hissed, probing his swelling lip with his tongue. "The hell was that for!?"
But Luna wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes were wandering around the kitchen while she hummed a simple melody.
He rolled his eyes. "Real mature."
"Says the pouter."
Harry mock wiped away tears. "Such an abusive friend I have. Well if you must tag along, Miss Pout-Police, you'll need to dress warm. I have a decade's worth of Weasley sweaters in my closet—take your pick. I'll be right back."
Luna bounced to her feet and skipped towards the bedroom. When Harry was sure he was fully out of her line of sight, he rushed over to the far wall.
His Pensieve was nearly overflowing with hundreds of his memories. Silvery mist rippled and lapped at the lip of the basin, threatening to spill over the edge with every movement. He'd probably have to take care of that at some point, but storing them sounded like a nightmare. Every one would need its own phial, with some system to keep track of them all. He might have to borrow Samantha's label maker.
He slipped his wand from his sleeve and raised the tip to his temple.
The autumn leaves crunched pleasantly as he shifted, wedging his shoulders between two headstones to make for a better pillow for Luna's slumbering form.
"Every damn day, Luna fights the urge to summon her mother. Neville. All of you. Because she knows what it would do to you. To them. It's only been a few months and already she's proven a much better Master than I ever was."
Said Master grumbled and rolled over to her other side. Harry's hand reflexively shot out to catch her head before it could smack into the inscription of Hermione's birthday. As he shifted her into a more comfortable position, his eyes landed on the stones across from them.
RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY
Howling Rusty
1st Mar 1980
30th May 2001
The Bloody General
GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY
Unrelenting Steed
11th Aug 1981
30th May 2001
The Withering Stamp
"Merlin, I was such a prick, calling for you whenever I wanted to chat or complain. And it wasn't like any of you had the authority to tell me to piss off."
His bouquet of daisies fluttered in the chilling wind.
"I'm scared, guys," his admission felt hollow, only arising after he'd been stabbed in the neck with undeniable truth. "Adam was right. He's always right. He and the reapers, they make up every part of Death I'm not. Every part I took from the last guy before carving them out of my mind, making the genius decision to push them out early enough for them to come into their own. And now here I am—a decomposing mannequin puppeteered by the dwindling remains of Harry Potter's personality. I'd barely be a drop in an ocean faced with the vast collective Being of Death.
"It's ironic, isn't it? I know it irks you when I mislabel things as irony, Hermione, but I think I've hit the nail on the head with this one. My frantic efforts to preserve my soul might have been the final push that did me in. Permanently." His dry chuckle sounded more like a strangled croak. "When I do die, I think I'd like to be buried here, with all of you. Maybe Luna could even sneak Neville in when Hannah isn't looking. That'd be a laugh. One last prank from the last generation of Marauders. How 'bout it?"
The flowers didn't have an answer.
"Or maybe not the last generation. Who knows? God-willing, any sprogs to pop out of our dear Miss Oddball will have a whole legion of aunts and uncles egging on their mischief from beyond the grave. If I can convince the others, I could pull a few strings—"
Harry snapped the strand off there. The rest of the visit was actually quite pleasant. Luna eventually woke up and reminisced with him on some of their more harrowing adventures from her delightful perspective. They talked and laughed well into the evening, animating the daisies to act out the most high-octane scenes.
"Harry?" Luna called, almost flying out of his room in his fourth-year dragon-themed sweater. "Are you ready to leave?"
He grinned as he felt the memory recede, fading into a vague blur and drawing the bite out of the accompanying emotions.
"Tip-top. Let's go."
"You're doing it again."
Alex knew she looked ridiculous. Lovestruck eyes, flushed cheeks. The dopey grin on her face that refused to fall away no matter how hard she tried to remember the severity of the situation. She just couldn't help it. She said as much.
"Well then wear a mask. You aren't exactly the picture of intimidating right now."
"How are you so stoic? This is how we got together! Just the two of us against the world. Running down contacts, long stakeouts in a cold car, paperwork…"
"How romantic," Maggie 'swooned' dryly. "Game face, Danvers. This guy's the real deal."
"So you've said. Repeatedly."
They were meeting with one of Maggie's old CIs, an alien refugee from Khundia called Mynr'dok. He was also a retired intergalactic mercenary.
Maggie rapped rhythmically on the painted door. For such a high-profile alien, he lived in a very unassuming apartment building. Some families, a few kids fresh out of college, one infamous hired gun.
"Who is it?" a gravelly voice called out.
"Uncle Manny, it's me!"
'Uncle Manny'? Possibly a passphrase?
A low grunt echoed through the door before Alex heard chains rattling from the other side. She counted four distinct clicks as locks slid open before the door swung inward.
"So you're back, are you?"
Alex's first thought was that Mynr'dok was a very wide man.
Silliness aside, he was. The K'hund's body filled the entire doorframe, to the point that Alex reckoned he'd have to turn to the side to leave comfortably. An odd coincidence, considering the subject of their investigation. And while he was proportionally stockier than the norm, that didn't mean he didn't tower over the couple too. Tough, raw skin stretched over boulder-like muscles showing very prominently through his off-white vest. Every breath he took spoke of tense, restrained power bubbling under the surface. Dozens of scars littered his arms, shoulders and face, folding into creases both from age and his alien physiology.
There was also a frilly half apron tied around his waist.
"Uncle Manny, this is Special Agent Alex Danvers." His eyes narrowed as they scanned over her, pausing briefly at her sidearm and again at her boots. "My fiancée."
He grunted and stepped aside, clearly inviting them in. Maggie sighed with visible relief before stepping past him into the living room. She dropped into a beaten leather couch and promptly propped her heels on the coffee table. After a brief hesitation, Alex followed, taking the seat next to her.
"Off."
Maggie's grin dimmed slightly as she set her boots back onto the carpet. Mynr'dok reset the bolts and chain on his door before he awkwardly shimmied to the kitchen through a narrow gap—well, narrow for him—and started stirring something around in a saucepan.
"Well?" he growled, turning his back to them. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"
Maggie jumped in her set and nodded. "Right, of course. Alex, this is Manny. He mentors kids, those whose parents aren't able to teach them what they need to know."
There was something about the way Maggie was talking that hinted it wasn't nearly that simple. "Teach what, exactly?"
The detective's eye's flicked towards the shuffling giant as he squeezed around a rolling island. "Just simple things. How to cook, how to prep for a job interview…"
"How to fight?"
"Among others," Manny answered. He was staring straight into Alex's eyes, his hands hidden behind the counter. "It's a dangerous town. These kids are alone. They need to know how to defend themselves."
"And Maggie…" she glanced at her fiancée.
"Oh, no. I moved to National City after joining the academy. Manny helped me during my first homicide as lead detective. I don't know where my career would be without him. Us too."
"Us?"
"Our anonymous tip leading us to Sinclair's fight club."
Alex's eyes went wide as she turned and stared at the K'hund. "That was you?"
"That bitch was annoyingly persistent in her efforts to 'book' me. First sending gifts. Guns, drugs, whores. When that didn't work she got aggressive. And it's not like I can really go into hiding. I had to move twice before Maggie called. I was more than happy to point her in the right direction."
"Well… thank you."
Manny nodded before settling into the opposite recliner. "So what's it this time, Maggie? You normally call first. And never with a DEO agent at your side."
Alex flinched. Her hand jumped to her holster, but before she could draw, Maggie's fingers snapped around her wrist and held it in place. Her outrage fell short when she caught sight of Maggie's grim look. It was supposedly the mark of a strong couple if they could communicate beyond simple speech. The agent wondered if any other couples used such a skill to argue.
'What the hell!?'
'Let it go.'
'He knows who I am!'
Alex threw a fierce glare at the alien, who'd made no hostile moves other than crossing his arms. She could still see the muscles in his wrists flex and twitch, however, and she wasn't going to pit her reaction time against the fugitive's.
Maggie's eyes flicked back and forth between them. "I told you he was dangerous, but he won't attack first. I need you to trust me."
Alex stared into Maggie's eyes, and—ever so slowly—the tension began to bleed from her shoulders. She unclasped her hand and placed it on her fiancée's knee.
Manny chuckled and uncrossed his arms. "That's one hell of a piece. Treyor-16, modded with a lighter trigger and a slide toggle for delivering specialised payloads. If you're genuinely trying to present yourself as FBI, maybe don't walk around with a DEO proprietary firearm displayed so prominently at your hip."
It was a ridiculous notion, of course. She wasn't about to leave the house without her gun, and the in's and out's of the DEO were supposed to be a secret anyway. That didn't mean she missed Manny's point, though. She was armed. He was in an apron.
He pulled a tea set out from under the coffee table just in time for a kettle to start whistling behind him. "So Detective, Agent," he nodded at the couple, "what can I do for you?"
When a short, svelte blonde skipped over and took the seat across her desk, Kara didn't know what to expect. Normally, when someone she didn't know visited her at work, they were there with a story of some kind. Or, at least, they were there to speak with her. Silence wasn't necessarily uncommon, but it was typically paired with nervous ticks as they debated on whether or not they really wished to talk to the press. A good reporter should always let an informant speak freely. Anything further than a casual "How can I help you?" greeting could colour the testimony. Any witnesses should deliver their statement exactly as they remember it.
This girl, however, had been calmly staring at Kara's head for the past five minutes. And it was her head. Even when the Kryptonian lowered her eyes to shuffle a few papers around, she could still feel the wide, unblinking eyes boring into her skull.
She couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm really sorry, but I have an engagement at six, so I need to head out before I miss my bus." She grabbed a business card off her personalised tray and slid it in front of the spacey girl. "If you ever want to talk, I'll be available—"
"Why would someone who can fly ever take the bus? I can't imagine it would be all that enjoyable in comparison."
Her blood turned to ice. She drew her sweater tight around her shoulders as a bitter draught passed over her desk.
"I-I'm sorry? W-Who's flying? I'm not flying. I can't fly. Who said I can fly? Was it MacKenzie? Because she loves her jokes, I mean—"
"We've met."
Kara choked on her rambling. "What?"
The girl's wandering eyes snapped towards her forehead. "Oh, I'm sorry. Here you go." She reached into the glittering shawl around her neck and slipped her a square of thick cardstock.
Kara could squint and just barely decipher the rushed scrawl: "The Master of Death, affectionally called Oddball, is Luna Elizabeth Lovegood."
It was as if a section of her subconscious had been unlocked. Information and memories that has been resting just under the surface went off like cannons in the forefront of her mind.
"Oh, my god."
"Yes, I'm told it's quite unpleasant. Hello again, Kara Zor-El Danvers."
"You can call me Kara."
"I'd rather not."
Her curt reply caught the Kryptonian quite off guard. Last they'd spoken, Luna was endearingly open and friendly, regardless of what she might've heard from Harry. The steadily dropping temperature certainly wasn't helping.
"I'm sorry?"
"I don't know what you said to my brother, but I do know that it hurt him. When he dropped me off at home, he was almost inconsolable. He's very bad at hiding his emotions, especially from me."
A small rush of guilt sloshed in her stomach, but it was quickly drowned by a tidal wave of indignation. She hadn't spoken a single lie. Sometimes, the truth was harsh, hurtful even. That never made it any less necessary.
By now, the room felt more akin to the Fortress of Solitude than midsummer Southern California. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign of discomfort. No one else seemed to notice. Mari was in a skirt, for crying out loud!
"But Harry can be sensitive. His anger often burns very hot but very quickly. I figured his head would cool with time, so I ignored it. Let him be. When I saw him next, it appeared I was right. He was fine." Her gaze became very severe, and at that moment Kara longed for the warmth of the Phantom Zone. "I just caught him depositing his memories into a Pensieve."
There was a beat. And then another.
Kara blinked. "That's it?"
The cold broke.
The ensuing rush of heat that enveloped her body was nearly sweltering in comparison. For the first time since Luna sat, Kara realised just how tired she was. Her forehead and underarms were damp with sweat, and her wrists twitched sporadically as she watched them.
"Yes. That's it. You said something, and now he's shoving his pain in a drawer. I want to know what you said."
"How could you possibly think it's because I did something?"
"He learned he had to spend a day with you, and it was the first thing he did after."
"But—"
"Also you clearly reacted when I brought it up. You did say something, and you know it."
Before Kara could muster a response, Luna's ears twitched. She turned away slightly before straightening her back and wiggling her fingers in a complicated dance.
The invasive sensation that washed over Kara sent her spiralling. It was as if an airtight rubber had been stretched over her entire body, inside and out. The inside of her mouth, both her ears and… other cavities weren't excluded either, but instead of simply covering the holes, the spell followed the inner contours and adhered to the walls of her orifices.
When the magic completed its course, Kara was left clutching her desk like a lifeline. Everything felt wrong. She could feel the seal in her throat, but she could breathe unimpeded. She could feel plugs deep in her ear canals, but her hearing was as super as ever. The Kryptonian could barely remember how to speak, much less greet Harry as he arrived with a tray of coffee.
"What's with her?" the Reaper asked, placing one of his cups in front of a very nonchalant Luna. As he leaned over to offer another cup to Kara, he hesitated, audibly sniffing the air. "You don't have a scent." He seemed the most confused Kara had ever seen him. "How on earth?"
Kara couldn't stop her eyes from drifting towards the witch. Harry's followed.
"What did you do?"
"I know how much you hate the smell of lavender," Luna smiled nonchalantly.
"I don't think she likes it too much," he observed flatly. "Did you factor in her heightened senses?"
"Oh, no, I don't believe so." She made a dismissive shooing motion with her hand, and suddenly the feeling of the seals was muted significantly.
Kara was breathing so deeply it was a miracle she wasn't blowing the entire office away with her exhale. "What was… how did… why are you here?" she finally asked, defeated.
"We're kidnapping you," Harry said glibly. "I guess we're supposed to be a distraction. That, or Xan is trying to get us to bond again. Either way, I thought a neutral mediator would be helpful."
Neutral? Yeah, right.
"What are we doing?" she asked warily, keeping a special eye on Luna.
"No clue." While they didn't exactly get along, Kara couldn't think of a reason Harry would lie about such a thing.
"Okay, then where are we going?"
"The Mortar. I have to run some errands."
The what-now? "Is that some Gatekeeper term?"
Harry shot her a look dripping with disdain. "Don't ever call me that. And seriously, how did you get through university when you clearly never listen? The Mortar: cosmic soup in which the Multiverse floats."
Cosmic soup… "You mean the Speed Force?"
He rolled his eyes as he grabbed her upper arm. "Wow, I'm sure the Moles just love you. Oddball."
Luna hopped to her feet—jittery with excitement— and grabbed his free wrist. "Can I bring my cocoa?"
"Careful not to spill any," he warned, before tugging Kara through a field of blue light. She just caught the acrid bite of ozone before she was swallowed by the infinite energy of the Speed Force.
Manny dropped the photos onto the coffee table and leaned back in his chair. With the change in his demeanour, he suddenly aged decades. Even the frills around his apron drooped in the heavy atmosphere. "Yeah, I know the church."
Alex straightened in her chair. "What's the matter?"
His beady eyes drifted out his open window. "You're talking about disrupting an entire community. Two of my kids stream the service every weekend. They break out into discussion groups and share sweet stories about their families and healing through grief."
"They razed a cemetery, Manny," Maggie insisted.
"All of 'em? Did they bring their own torches or were they passed out like the body of Christ?" He stared into Alex's eyes, and despite her best efforts she quickly looked away. "This isn't some backwater cult you're dealing with. It's a genuine religion. Wandering college kids. Retirees. Families. Sure, there are the zealots. Off their rocker and rotten to the grisly core. Name a religion without them. Do you have any proof Liberty was directly behind this?"
"Well, no, but—" Maggie started before Manny cut her off.
"You're a cop, Sawyer. What was your plan? Arrest him now, 'find' your evidence after?" His implication for how such evidence would be 'found' was anything but subtle.
"Hey!" Alex made to stand, but Maggie held her down.
"We don't have any evidence. That's why we're investigating. Liberty isn't even officially a suspect yet. We don't need much. You said your girls watch the services online? Could you give us access to the stream?"
Manny started at Alex suspiciously. "Why do you care?"
"Please, Manny?"
"I'm asking your fiancée." He kept his eyes on Alex. "The DEO handles alien threats. World-ending events."
The agent sat a bit straighter. "Two innocent people lost their lives."
He snorted. "Tragic. Now answer my question."
Alex glared. "I'm afraid that's classified."
"Aren't you cute? Get out."
"Uncle Manny!"
"I'm not done here!"
"Out!" He didn't exactly push them, but Mynr'dok's sheer size was enough to usher them out into the hall. "It was nice seeing you, detective," he said as he closed the door with a sharp snap.
This was the closest they'd been to Liberty since Harry learned his moniker.
"Manny!" Maggie called, banging her fist on the door.
The chain rattled through the door.
"Mynr'dok!"
The first lock slid into place, quickly followed by the second and third.
"He's not a god, he's my friend!" Alex finally called. "My best friend in the world, and the church has been doing horrible things in his name. And he says he's fine but he's not! He never is." Her voice cracked.
"Babe, let's just go."
"I'm not going anywhere! Not until he tells us what he knows!" She reared back and kicked the door as hard as she could. "You hear me, Mynr'dok?! I'm not leaving!"
"Come on," Maggie grabbed her shoulder. "This was a wash, I have other contacts."
But Alex wasn't listening. She barely even heard over the sound of her boot and her own shouting.
"He's younger than I am, and he holds the weight of the entire fucking universe on his shoulders! And now, he's going to die and there's nothing anyone can do to help him!"
The gates were open. Every painful thought she'd suppressed. Every hard conversation she'd avoided. It all came spilling out into a hallway so hilariously mundane that even Harry's relatives would have yearned for some excitement. In full view of all the families and college kids and crones peering out their doors looking for the source of all the racket.
"I can't find a cure! I can't make him comfortable. I can't even translate a goddamned book! I haven't done shit for him since we met but he humours me every time I try because it means we're together anyway! This is the one thing I can do! One thing I'm good at that will actually benefit him! And I will not be stopped by this mother—"
She slammed her foot forward.
"—Fucking—"
She kicked again; the spot she was hitting buckled and cracked.
"—DOOR!"
CRASH! Her boot went straight through the wood, sending a cloud of paint flakes and splinters flying everywhere. Alex rested her forehead against the wall, panting heavily. Her eyes were blurry. She blinked and felt tears draw the heat from her flushed cheeks down to her chin. As her pounding heart slowed, she dimly grew aware of the throbbing pain in her big toe. "He's not a god, Manny," she repeated hoarsely. "He's not a god and he's going to die."
"I've called the police," one of the crones warned. "I don't care what problems you're having, you deal with them yourself. Don't drag good people like Uncle Manny into them! You should be ashamed of yourself. Kids these days have no—"
"Ma'am," Maggie interrupted, flipping out her badge. "Just… don't."
"This was not the agreement."
"This was exactly the agreement. The name in exchange for one instance of interference from me for whoever you wish. When that instance occurs is irrelevant. Immaterial even, considering where we are. If you had a specific event in mind, have us arrive at the proper time.
"And your… guests?"
"You never specified I had to be alone. And this one is my insurance that you don't fuck with me on the return trip," he added, pointing his thumb at Zor-El. "I know you approve of her. I may not have full control when I get back while dimension-hopping, but I can keep her with me. You can't hold me in transit too long without depriving our Earth of its precious Girl of Steel."
Mortar-mione got a very family twitch in her brow. "You think it's wise to push us? In such a frail state?"
"I thought we talked about empty threats, Double-Em, careful you don't lose yourself in the music of your outrage." He valiantly quelled his smirk as Mortar-mione narrowed her eyes at Luna, who had been caught by a sudden fit of giggles. He'd been working Eminem lyrics into his interactions with the Moles for the past two months. They had yet to notice. "You know what you'd unleash should any harm befall this vessel. Do you really want to start something you can't finish?"
"Very well," the Mole grit her teeth. A light blue vortex spun to life behind her. "Your task is through this breach. You will use the full range of your power to help any way you can."
"I thought I was clear. I decide what counts as appropriate effort."
"We shall see," she drawled, before dispersing into the storm around them.
"Well, that was ominous," Harry snorted, before grabbing both blondes' arms and strolling through the breach.
"You really do delight in being a jerk to everyone, don't you?"
"Silence her, would you?"
"Don't you d—"
"Thanks, Oddie."
Luna huffed, looking distinctly unimpressed. "You're welcome, Dirty."
…
Okay, he deserved that.
A/N: Things are happening! Based on my outline, we have 4-5 chapters left in this story, so buckle up!