Don't own any of these characters. Never will. Wish I did. Major spoilers for "Countdown to Infinite Crisis". Good idea to read the comic first. Also, spoilers for the Question six-issue miniseries.
Warning: The Pool is Contaminated
by Alba Aulbath
A day had gone by, just one day and it completely made the difference in his life. He could See that they were organizing, preparing to go after the man with no face. They were ready to play the game.
To make a Checkmate.
For the moment, he had fled his way into Metropolis. It was the closest city. Questionably the safest, considering his last visit hadn't particularly impressed Superman. Regardless, he knew that he had Metropolis on his side. Seeing Ted was easier this way.
One day was all it took.
Don't you feel a little bit disturbed dragging me around?
The Question probably lifted an eyebrow. It wasn't as if anyone would have been able to tell.
Never mind. You've probably done grosser things.
"Hn."
He snuck his way into an abandoned home. The plumbing, he presumed, still worked. Which was all fine with him; keeping in mind of the tricks to keep the Man of Steel from suddenly crashing through the roof to demand what he was doing here - much more, what he was doing here with the Blue Beetle's body - he delicately carried the blue-suited body into the bathroom. Laying him down into the bathtub, the Question looked for a washcloth. He found one - raggedy, old, but it'd do - and dampened it.
Kneeling down by the body, he gingerly peeled away the mask and went about cleaning him to perfection. Sew up the head on top, try to make him whole again. Try to make it look less dark, for the dewy-eyed metahumans, humans, and aliens prancing around in spandex.
Excuse me, I was 'prancing' around in tights, too.
Question muttered his apologies, dabbing away at the unresponsive face, cleaning what he could. Maybe fix the mask, later, while he was at it.
Hesitantly, he attempted to convince the faceless man You don't have to do that, y'know. Not your responsibility, Question.
"And have the lesser turn their attentions to you? Have who else deal with it, Ted? Michael? Barbara? Not going to pass you off to the JLA. Not going to chance it. Not going to chance Max jumping in."
Someone's gotta know sometime.
"Aware of that. Going to try. Reason why we're in Metropolis." Question almost sounded smug. "Need to... fix you first..."
L-look... get a damned professional or something... was pleaded.
"I can do it," Question muttered.
The gore wasn't the problem. Not the blood, not rebuilding what had been the top of Ted's skull. It hadn't been any of that. It'd just been Ted. It was him who was lying in the bathtub, absolutely lifeless. Completely and utterly unlike Ted, but it was reality.
Typically, dealing with reality hadn't been too difficult for the Question; everyday, he dealt with the lowest scum of the streets, the very worst the world offered him. The shade, the shadows, the dark - that was his world.
And this was reality.
Regardless, it was unnerving.
After he felt as though he was as clean as he was going to get, the faceless man stepped away and dug into his pockets. Some sheets of psuedoderm might give the impression of skin, at least, and make the body look a little more... acceptable. Question was hardly a surgeon, and was incapable of reconstructing the skull itself, but he could make the gore look less intimidating.
Cutting a proper length, he approached the body, pressing the pseudoderm over the top of the lifeloss body's head. Pressing against his belt buckle, familiar colored bonding gas escaped, just enough to bond the skin against the skull for the moment.
You make me look bald now.
"A price to pay. Want Michael to see the truth so soon?"
He winced. It was a no.
The Question searched the abandoned dump in attempts for needle and thread - or at least, what could substitute. Eventually, he did find a needle, but instead could only find a dark blue shirt in a room. It'd do; returning to the bathroom, he began to undo the thread in the shirt.
You don't have to do that.
"Want to." Question felt better sewing the mask up on the top.
What're you going to do? Those guys... they won't leave you alone now...
"Run. Survive. Need to make the world listen, Ted. Don't care what it takes. Not your fault. Wanted to be involved. Need to be involved." He bit off the thread before he began sewing. "Need to make the world know. Start here."
How?
"We're in Metropolis, with a few famous reporters. We'll start there..."
It always seemed that Superman was always on the run to save a village, a valley, a country, a continent, the world, and then some from an evil peril. It wasn't just Metropolis he needed to rescue, but the entire freaking universe. Occasionally, it could grind a girl's nerves.
Lois Lane dealt with it, though.
She had left the Daily Planet and arrived home for only about fifteen minutes until her cell phone went off.
With an annoyed sigh - she had planned to relax for at least an hour for crying out loud - Lois went through her purse and finally yanked out her cell before receiving the call. "Hello?"
"Lois, it's Vic. Vic Sage."
A quick scowl was on her face. "You have a lot of nerve calling me now, after you left me in the dust the last time you swung by Metropolis."
"I did leave you a key, Lois. And it allowed you to deal a blow to Luthor. For that, I think you actually owe me."
Lois hesitated. That might have been true, but it wasn't something she was going to ever admit to him.
"Make it quick. I've got a schedule to keep, you know." Not that Lois was busy. Not that Vic knew any better.
"I have an exclusive story I need you to put out there, Lois. I found something big. I think you should get dibs."
That was definitely curious. "And since when does Vic Sage not report something he finds?" she asked wryly.
"Since when I know it deserves your attention and the Man of Steel's. I discovered the passing of one of his companions. I'm going to e-mail you the essential information. You don't have to give me credit; I just want you to write this. I have all the evidence you need. Photos scanned in, analysis - just write this. Get it front page if you can. It's important."
"What the hell am I supposed to be writing, exactly?" Lois scowled.
"You'll know, when you read it. You'll know, when you see it. And be sure to get your partner, Clark Kent, in to help. I'm sure his skills will be valued."
"Why aren't you doing the story?"
Vic hesitated on his end. "I can't. I'm too busy. And... besides. You'll want to let Superman know. ... I've just e-mailed the information. Please, Lois. Please."
"Look. I'll see what you've got, Vic. All right? Then we'll see." Then she paused, coming onto a realization. "Hey, how the hell did you get this number-"
click.
Lois grumbled, "He has a lot of nerve." Shoving her cell back into her purse, she paused. Go onto an hour of relaxtion, or check the information that Vic sent her.
Shrugging, she turned and pulled up a chair to her computer, and booted it up. As soon as she went online, she went to her e-mail.
Clicking on her inbox, she double-clicked on the mail from Vic.
Reading and eyeing at the photos, Lois's jaw dropped.
"Oh God," she whispered.
Why couldn't we just stay in that crappy little hole you found?
"Not locked. Not safe. Don't want to leave your body without it being secure."
He felt a bit touched by that, even if it was by a crazy man who could talk to the dead.
The Question, after he had spoken to Lois and sent the e-mail, had packed what little he had on him, took Blue Beetle's body, then left.
Sticking to the alleyways and darker spots, he continued to wander, peering into homes with his Sight and attempting to spot one that was not occupied. Frankly, it was very difficult to come upon one that had been abandoned and was secure.
Are you sure Lois Lane is going write about me? I mean, I'm just a second-stringer, Question. I'm not going to make a big hit in the papers.
"It is, if she takes into account the evidence I've placed into the e-mail. ... You died doing something you believed in. That's worth front page news. We're going to make sure everyone knows it. Metropolis is just the first spot. Hoping to make my way into Keystone and contact Linda West next. ... Carrying you isn't going to be easy, though. Don't know who I can take you to, frankly."
The JLA. Seriously... Booster can't do it. The JLA's your next bet.
The Question's voice darkened. "Don't want to deal with them. Don't want to deal with aliens and metahumans playing Gods."
For crying out loud, Question, you can trust them.
"As they trusted you?" The faceless man shook his head. "No. They misplaced their faith. Won't misplace mine."
...Oracle. You can contact Oracle.
That had merit. "Maybe." The Question paused in an abandoned construction site. "Superman first. Then Oracle. Step at a time, Ted."
Both soul and man paused their conversation. The faceless man looked up, spying the very individual chi of a Kryptonian flying overhead. It was very convenient timing.
Probably heard you.
"Probably," Question agreed. "Got his attention, then. Good."
Pretty fast.
"Lois probably forwarded him the information." The no-faced man knelt down, keeping the body cradled in his arms. "Doesn't make for a great meeting of any kind, though."
Them's the brakes, I guess?
The Question shrugged.
Eventually, the Man of Steel descended from the skies above, lowering himself so that he landed only a few feet apart from both the man in the trenchcoat and the dead man in his arms. Suffice to say, the shock and anger on Superman's face wasn't any that could be described in full detail; after all, the Question only had seconds to think of it before the Kryptonian approached, hand out to grab the front of the faceless man's jacket. Did not lift him, though. Did not disturb Blue Beetle.
"What did you do, Sage?" Superman demanded, his voice dark.
"Do you care because it was Ted, or do you care because it's death?" Question tilted his head calmly. "For the record, I had nothing to do with Ted dying."
God damn it, he looks ready to kill you, fuck, QUESTION-
"Shhh," the Question assured Ted.
"He was a friend; of course I care!" Superman released him, feeling relatively secure that the Question hadn't been responsible. Killing was not below his style; however, it didn't make sense for him to have gone out of his way to do it to Beetle, then drag his body around.
The Man of Steel pointed at Question. "What happened to Beetle?"
"Now you want to know. And now you will listen." The Question did not leave his position. "He attempted to gain help. He tried to get the League to listen. The JLA. The JSA. Whatever exists, whatever organization of Gods hover over the planet, he tried to get their attention."
"He did. He reported the kryptonite-"
"You will listen," the Question told him sharply. "There's something more than just over a hundred pounds of something that could kill you, Superman. There's a problem. Something bigger than any of us, and it brought Ted his death. Something deep, that wasn't enough for your attention."
"And you? How do you know about all of this?" Superman narrowed his eyes. "I wasn't aware you were that close of an associate with Beetle."
"Wasn't, really. Partnered once, years ago. But I'm the only one he can talk to now."
The Kryptonian paused, eyeing at him. "He's talking to you."
It's all I can do was grumbled.
"Yes."
"I can only find that slightly more believable than cities talking to you, Sage. Now you want me to think someone who's died is talking to you." Superman was getting upset, as if this was all a horrible prank that the faceless vigilante was pulling on him.
It was incredibly offensive.
The Question's voice darkened, angered. "I'm between two worlds. I can Hear what you can't, See what you can't. Believe it or not, there are sights and sounds beyond even your capability. I know what I'm doing. You didn't, the moment you disregarded Ted. That, I won't forgive, even for Gods."
"We're not Gods, we have limits-"
"You pretend. That's enough to conceive a name." The Question tilted his head. "The Justice Gods."
This is so NOT the time to be pissing off a guy who can burn you with his eyes.
"Not here to banter. Not here..." Question shook his head. Had to keep himself in line. "Ted was on to something. I need Lois to announce his death first. Need the world to know that much at first. Need everyone to realize how deaf they've been."
"What was it Ted couldn't tell us?"
The faceless man's fists clenched. "He tried to tell. No one listened. Michael and Diana did. Michael's in the hospital, Diana was too busy. Still is. Tried to tell. No one wanted to listen. Not even a mind-reader."
"To be fair, J'onn has his hands full."
"To be fair, Clark Kent, to be FAIR, it was Ted who made the first step. Who voiced and no one listened because he is, what you may think, a fool. The fool is disregarded in too many senses: as a jester in Western culture, and as someone who gives without thought in Eastern. The fool began what the Gods will finish. To be fair-"
"Will you stop referring to us as that?" Superman kept his eyes on the Question. Perhaps Blue Beetle's body in his arms was unnerving. It wasn't as if someone in the JLA hadn't died before, but regardless. It was unnerving to think of, to KNOW of the dead body being cradled with such care was before him. "What is it Ted can't tell us?"
Jeez, stop trying to piss him off...
"Ted found something," Question repeated quietly. "Ever heard of Checkmate?"
"It's a U.S. government agency. What's your point?" Superman's tone was impatient.
Can't blame him for a little impatience. You're carrying around my dead body.
The Question tilted his head. "Maxwell Lord. He's involved."
"You're kidding."
"Am I joking, carrying Ted's body in my arms? Am I joking?"
Superman scowled. "I find it hard to believe Max is involved, but then again, he's been involved in the League. What else?"
"They had profiles on all of you. Everyone. You, Clark Kent. Batman, Bruce Wayne. Wonder Woman. Green Arrow. Starman. Captain Marvel. S.T.A.R. Labs. The DEO. Everyone. ...Ted deleted the files, but regardless, that isn't putting you in any less danger."
"So Max is involved with Checkmate. With files on us."
"Probably to watch you, wipe you out, or whatever he intends, yes."
"Hm." Superman peered at the Question. Disbelief was on his face and in his tone of voice. "I don't know how you expect me to believe that."
"Benefit of the doubt," the faceless man snarled at him. "Give us the benefit of the doubt. You owe it to me."
"I owe you?"
"Few years ago ring a bell? The Science Spire. Your ignorance then nearly cost you. Metropolis called out for me, I came to your rescue. If it wasn't for me, Luthor would have fried your Kryptonian ass with chi. Don't let your ignorance now cost you. Owe me your ears, since you lost your chance with Ted."
Superman winced, but he still hesitated. Then, considered.
"And don't tell me 'I'll look into it'," Question growled.
Sighing softly, the Man of Steel nodded. "So Maxwell is doing this... why?"
"Perhaps he fears what he considers Gods..." The faceless man paused, looking into the distance. Looking beyond Superman, looking beyond buildings. Seeing.
Checkmate was spoken fearfully. Question, RUN.
"Take Ted. Take him somewhere safe. Keep him safe, or you'll regret it," the Question ordered fiercely. "Let nothing else happen to his body." Standing up, he held out the body to Superman; the Man of Steel hesitated, looking down at Blue Beetle. "Don't pause; take him. Now. ...Ted trusts you, so I'll have to for now."
Superman sighed. "All right. What's going on?" He took the body into his arms carefully.
"Max is making his move on me." Question turned around, gazing towards the bodies preparing to stalk towards him. "You should go. We'll meet again soon."
The Kryptonian glanced towards the direction the faceless man was looking. Using x-ray vision, no doubt. "I can't see their faces. Lead lining."
"Go. Don't want them to know I told you anything."
Superman glanced at him reluctantly, then took off into the air.
Turning to follow where the Man of Steel took off, the Question pressed against his belt buckle. Some gas leaked out, and he took in a slow, steady breath, breathing in some of the gas. Stimulation, it helped him See. And then, he simply focused.
What're you doing? was in disbelief.
"Masking him and you. For a few seconds. Enough to keep them unsuspicious." A few seconds indeed; afterwards, he turned. "Superman can take it from there. Maybe get the JLA involved. We'll see about contacting who we need to after we leave."
Damn it, stop talking to me and RUN, Question was begged.
He shrugged. "They'll keep following." The faceless man did finally turn and start off through the abandoned construction site, his steps silent and allowing him some stealth. "They'll keep hounding, until they're gone or I'm gone."
Lord, I'm sorry I got you involved...
"No," he muttered sharply. "Don't blame yourself." Question leapt over rusting beams. "It was appropriate I got involved. Don't let it bother you, even if I do meet an unfortunate fate."
You're real cheerful. But then again, you talk to dead people and he sighed.
The Question left the construction site, moving on his way towards the maze that was the alleys of Metropolis. It would, presumably, provide him with better cover and allow him a better opportunity to find a way to escape.
That was on the account that the people who were following him didn't know the city as well as they should.
And they knew it better than that, even, with Maxwell Lord on the lead.
This, Question figured, after he Saw what was ahead. Just a man standing in wait, and with the way the alleys and walls were guiding him, he couldn't avoid a meeting.
"I was predicted..." he muttered, almost in disbelief. "Ted, did they have files on me, too?"
Shit, Question, they had everyone. Me, Booster, probably you too.
"Glorious."
Turning a corner, the Question was prepared to continue running and take his escape. However, he found himself face-to-face with Maxwell himself.
"The opportunity to see you face to face is definitely an honor. You've gotten so far, so quickly. I wasn't expecting much from a mental cased vigilante from Hub City, but I'm quite happy for the surprise." Max grinned at him, holding out a hand in a gesture. His nose began to dribble with blood. "Sit."
The Question's willpower was, typically, strong. However... the amount of influence was enough to make him wobble and stumble until he fell backwards with only a hand to catch and support him.
Question! was screamed at him. No no NO-!
A gun was lifted, aimed at the Question. "I don't really expect you to be willing to join us, so I'll save us both the trouble."
Get up, GET UP! was pleaded, as he tried desperately to reach at him.
Yet that was enough influence.
The faceless man managed to twist away from where he was forced to lay by mindpower alone, hearing a bullet be shot, feeling it pierce through his side. With a growl, he acknowledged his injury.
But he wasn't dead, and that was with consideration.
Full of grace, the Question leapt, landing a foot against Max's hand to knock away his weapon, the other landing against his ribs with enough force to crack one. Maxwell landed on his back with the Question standing on him.
The no-faced man looked over his shoulder. "They're coming here."
Damn it you're BLEEDING, get OUT OF THERE, Question!
"I know," Question whispered. "I know." He leapt off of Max and took off quickly down the streets.
"It doesn't matter, Sage! It doesn't matter, because we can trace you down!" Maxwell Lord yelled after him.
Silently, he ran across the paved ground, quickly as he could while he ignored the bleeding and aching wound on his side. It screamed at him to be noticed, to be given care, but he could not spare the moment to perform any basic firstaid on himself. The Question needed to live, even for just awhile longer.
Where can you go? Fuck, he can follow you - he knows this city.
"I know the sewers," Question muttered to him. "The Subterraneans. Their old routes. Superman knows them. Maxwell doesn't. Or at least won't think of it. He's too confident I'll use the ground above to be saved or noticed by someone - the public or Superman."
How do you figure?
"Because he's a cocky bastard." The Question found a manhole, and lifted up the lid with some strain - it pumped out more blood and he could hear Ted's reaction - and began to climb down. Not before he settled the lid back on top of the manhole did he continue all the way down.
Superman knows where you're going?
"If he doesn't... I'm giving him too much credit..." the faceless man muttered. "Was here, a few years ago. Subterraneans, a group working under Superman's nose. Under Lex Luthor, when he still had LexCorp. Luthor was making the Science Spire, which was channeling Metropolis's chi. A weapon, to kill Superman. Earth energy. Magic, some might call it."
You don't?
"Nn. Makes me think of a terrible magician I saw when I was younger..." Question shook his head. "Don't like the term. Not endearing."
Hobbling his way through the sewers, he slammed his shoulder roughly against a wall, which proved to be false. It appeared brick, but fell over without a problem. Old, rusted. One lead, apparently. The Question continued down the route, towards what appeared to be an abandoned subway station.
He let himself lean against a wall and slide down against it, taking in a deep breath.
Oh God. God, don't die-
"Won't." Question shook his head. "Won't. Stop worrying."
I can't do ANYTHING.
"You can speak," he murmured. "That's enough..."
Okay. Fine. I can talk. Woohoo, good for me. How's that going to keep you from bleeding your insides out?
"Keep me awake. Need to stay awake until Superman comes. Talk, Ted. Talk."
He considered. I can tell you when Batman knocked Guy out. I love that.
"Fine. Just talk."
He began to talk away fondly, of what he might have considered better days. Days that were missed and days were he wasn't simply a second-stringer then. Or at least, he hadn't really thought that way then.
The Question listened. Through death, Ted still remained lively.
Irony. It almost made him smirk.
It was about an hour; Ted had drifted off subject about Black Canary being depressed for weeks about not having seen Guy getting decked and had instead began to talk about the events of the past few days. Kord Industries, Booster Gold, the JLA, everything. It made the Question feel something fierce spark in him. It made him feel anger, frustration, again. Everything boiled in him.
The Question hoped that they would be heard.
"There you are."
An hour. He had been bleeding for an hour. The Question glanced up. "...About time..."
He allowed himself the grace to go unconscious, and he cried out desperately.
Eventually, he began to wake up - his mind, anyway, was taking the first steps. The rest of his body prefered to rest, and as it was, he felt weak anyway. But it was enough to allow Ted to talk to him again, with relief.
I was flipping the FUCK out, you stupid prick.
Behind his mask, Question smirked.
Superman snagged you and we left. You're all right now. J'onn patched you up, but you still need a blood transfusion.
This caused the Question quickly force the rest of his body to wake up. "I'm in the Watchtower-?" The rest of his air was gone as he gasped and felt sharp pain in his side. He had opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. It hadn't been a very bright move on his part.
Yep. Welcome to the Watchtower. Nice view.
The Question gripped the sheets below his body, looking around, Seeing a figure approaching down the hall. "Why here."
Best medical equipment. I was listening in. Superman and J'onn were talking; looks like you got through their alien heads about Checkmate, or at least taking what I said seriously. J'onn's been working with Diana on the case. Fortunately, in spite of events, he sounded pleased.
"Don't want to be here," Question muttered.
Why not? Like I said,best medical equipment around, you know.
"I don't walk among Gods."
He sighed. You have some real issues.
"Nnn." The Question peered down his bed, watching a tall and broad green man step through the doorway with a billowing blue cloak around his body. As tall, as powerful as Superman.
Yet all the wiser.
The faceless man felt completely uncomfortable in his presence, watching him with his Sight. The Martian's chi was much more earthly than Superman's. Low, dark browns and greens, moving slowly, patiently. Old. Yet powerful.
The power was what made him feel discomfort.
Do not fear me, Vic Sage. How do you fair?
The Question flinched.
As if you don't have enough voices talking to you was smirked at him.
"Hurt. Weak. Need blood. When?" Question tilted his head. "Not safe," he muttered. Not safe amongst the Gods. The fools did not walk with Gods. Why was he here, of all places?
On the contrary, this is the safest place you can possibly be at the moment, Victor. And you will receive the transfusion when we have the proper amount for your blood type, which should be quite soon. You are here, because you know what we must know. I have... been investigating some, during the time in which I can spend doing so. And much the same for Diana.
"Hn." Question didn't sound impressed. They should have believed Ted in the first place. They should have started days ago. "Where's the body?"
We are... taking care of that. The loss is quite unfortunate. The Martian's physical expression didn't describe his guilt.
The Question could See it.
"Who else knows about Ted?"
We have informed some. Diana is aware. Kyle Rayner...
Booster. Ask him about Booster.
"What about Michael?" Question peered at him.
We have not contacted him as of yet, seeing as he is still hospitalized. I do not believe it would settle well at this point.
He sighed, wearily. Booster...
"Fine." The Question glanced at Ted. "I'll tell him, when I can. Doesn't help, being chased." He paused, almost horrified. "...Is Maxwell Lord aware of...?"
We have not told him of your whereabouts, nor do I see any reason to inform him of such a thing. J'onn considered. What is it you fear?
"Of course Superman didn't tell you," the Question muttered. "Guess who put a bullet in me." He tapped his head. "Read my mind, if you have to." Weakly, his arm dropped back to the bed.
Hesitantly, the Martian Manhunter approached. "Your mind is... a fair bit more erratic than I am used to. Which is why I have been speaking telepathetically... step by step, to adjust myself. However..."
"Don't feel comfortable in my head, then."
"No," J'onn admitted. "What you truly believe in, what you truly believe to see and hear, I cannot distinguish from what is reality."
The Question was not happy with that kind of answer. "I know who shot me. And I know who's responsible for Ted's death. Read my mind. Maybe one of you Gods will finally See."
There was hesitation, until J'onn nodded. "When you are well. It ... shall be a strain for both of us. For now, I will prepare the blood transfusion. Rest, Victor Sage." The Martian turned and stepped down the hallway.
Question squinted behind his mask, Seeing J'onn approach the main bridge, where both Superman and Wonder Woman were.
Well, on one hand, at least J'onn will know you're telling the truth when he reads your mind. On the other hand, you being crazy isn't gonna help.
"It'll help. But when it's done, I have to leave."
Are you NUTS? You're being hunted down, Question. Max is going to KILL you. He... fuck, don't do this, okay? You've done enough. For crying out loud...
"Need to let the world know. Need to talk to people. Need to finish. A start, yes. A start. And I need to finish. Need to." The Question stared at Ted. "Need to make them know..."
Fuck, don't get killed because of me.
"Won't. Don't plan to, so I won't." The Question shook his head.
Damn it, why do I end up with the crazy people, even when I'm dead? was grumbled.
Another smug expression was formed behind the Question's mask.
Notes:
I've surprised myself and continued this little fic. It's definitely spinning away from the main DC storyline now, I guess. I suppose it's now a 'what if' fic in this case. Regardless, I'm having fun writing it, as I hope you're all having fun reading it.
Keep reviewin'! Cheers!