Chapter 20: Do You Know Your Enemy?
"Get him to the med-bay, now!"
Astra marched forward, Non and Indigo on her heels. The Commander saluted her shakily, clearly still distressed from whatever had managed to eliminate the majority of his team.
"What happened?" she demanded. "Where is the rest of the team?"
"Dead, General."
"Dead?" she asked quietly, displeased. "This was supposed to be a simple retrieval mission! How could the humans eliminate eight members of your team, including two Kryptonians! Our bodies are invulnerable to any weapon they could use against us."
The Commander shook his head, eyes wide. "It wasn't the humans, General. It was the daughter of Alura."
It was almost as if time froze. The bustling array of twenty or so aliens, all former prisoners of Fort Rozz, had gathered in the command center to see what the commotion was about. Silence descended upon all of them once the Commander made his claim. Astra, in shock, took a small step backwards. Her failure to speak for several moments caused Non to take the lead, after breaking his own stupor.
"You are telling me that the daughter of Alura, Krypton's top judge, and a scion of the House of El, killed eight members of your team, two of whom were her fellow Kryptonians?" Non asked dubiously, stepping forward.
The Commander nodded. "Yes. I wouldn't have believed myself if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Myself and three of the Kryptonians in our group were staking out another building on the compound. One of them saw something suspicious in the main building, so we went to investigate. We searched the upper floors and found each of the non-Kryptonian members of the team dead, either from by having their necks broken or their insides melted. That's when he heard fighting in the main lobby. We flew down there, and there she was – she had knocked out one of the men and left him lying in a crater on the floor. The other…she buried a knife in his throat, and was in the process of removing it when we arrived."
"What of the other Kryptonian she killed?"
He gulped. "When we saw what she did, we took a moment too long to react. She took advantage of that and attacked, using her superspeed to knock us all down. The other Kryptonian managed to recover before me and engaged her one-on-one. He fought well, but…"
"But…" Non urged him to continue.
"But she was far more skilled at hand-to-hand combat than he was. It was like she was dancing around him, Lieutenant – she's clearly been trained, and extremely well at that. After a few moments, she killed him, stabbing the knife right into his chest. After that, we grabbed our unconscious comrade and fled. Even with the number's advantage, my instincts were screaming at me, telling me that if we stayed, we would all die."
Indigo leaned onto a railing by the entrance, a hand on her hip. "What of the knife? Even with her strength, she shouldn't have been able to pierce the skin another Kryptonian, even if she put all her weight behind it."
"I managed to catch a glimpse of it when she removed it from the first Kryptonian she killed. While it was covered in blood at the time, there was a faint glowing outline to it, and it seemed the blade was colored green. It was most likely some sort of special material they found that could affect Kryptonians. Why it did not harm her, I do not know."
The room quieted once again. Astra had listened to every word the Commander said, but they did not compute in her mind. Her Kara, a killer? It shouldn't have been possible. But the Commander had no reason to lie about this – on the contrary, he should be praised for choosing to flee. With it, he managed to relay valuable information to them about who was now assuredly the biggest threat to their plan. But still…
Astra took a deep breath, knowing everyone's eyes were on her. "Thank you, Commander. That was…enlightening." She stood straight, regaining her authoritative air.
"Indigo. How soon can Myriad be activated?"
The Coluan bit the edge of her nails, serious for once. "With this setback? Not for several Earth months."
Astra nodded. "Very well then." She turned, analyzing the faces of each of her men, before addressing them all. "It is clear our plans cannot proceed until the daughter of Alura either dies or joins our cause. Indigo will continue her work on Myriad, but until she can complete it, we have a new objective: Kara Zor-El. We must determine her exact threat level – her training, what weapons she has access to, what allies she has, and how much she knows about us and our plans. Until we have a full understanding of her abilities, none of you are allowed to engage her on your missions. If she appears, scrub the mission and flee immediately. These are your standing orders."
Each of the aliens either saluted her or nodded their assent, cowed by either Astra's own strength or Kara's alleged prowess. Astra allowed the crowd to disperse, and when it was just her, Non, and Indigo, she let her façade fall, collapsing into one of the chairs, emotionally spent.
"Wife." Astra looked up, and saw Non with genuine concern on her face. "Are you alright?"
Astra, too tired to lie, shook her head. "No, Non. I'm not."
What did this planet do to you, Kara?
Malcolm Merlyn clenched his fist, his head against the wall.
Stupid, stupid! How could I have grossly miscalculated like that?
Of course, he knew why, but it was a bitter pill to swallow.
His pride was why.
When it became clear that the Hood was not following the List but was instead just aiming for nearly every unsavory individual in the city, Malcolm knew he should have just left him alone. As far as he could tell, the Hood had not a single inkling of the Undertaking, and it was best to keep it that way. Provoking him would just be giving him the key to doors he didn't want opened.
But if there was anything else Malcolm had gained besides clarity during his brief stay in Nanda Parbat, it was a warrior's pride. The sight of another archer, one clearly trained (by special forces, he initially assumed), beckoned to him like a siren's song. Malcolm hadn't had a decent fight in several years, and while training maintained his skills, he yearned for another dance partner, a rival to conquer. He thought the Hood would be interesting enough prey to assume that role for him.
He attired himself in his League armor, because the League's secrecy was so strongly held that even the most well-connected people heard only whispers of them. A vigilante would know nothing of the true meaning of this uniform. Or so he thought.
Malcolm berated himself for making such hasty assumptions.
The moment the Hood opened his mouth and Arabic spilled from his lips, Malcolm knew he screwed up. The Hood had been aware of the League, and judging by his words, was still closely affiliated with them. Most likely he, like Malcolm, was a former member who had managed to get Ra's al Ghul to release him from his vows. Unlike Malcolm, however, it seemed he was still in frequent communication with them. His departure must have been recent, within the last two years or so.
So, when he saw him in his League attire, the Hood assumed he was a current member of the League, a messenger for Ra's al Ghul, and assumed Malcolm would have at least passing familiarity with him. When Malcolm failed to deliver on all those fronts and fled, the Hood obviously gave chase for answers. And now…now…
The Hood would send a message, certainly. And while the Demon's Head would not divulge his true identity, he would certainly mention his League name. After that, it was just a matter of time before the Hood found out who he was in his search, and chances are, he would find out other things that Malcolm didn't want a lot of people knowing – such as the Undertaking.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. The Hood was dangerous even by his standards. He was League-trained, that much he was able to glean from their brief scuffle, and a combatant that was on Malcolm's level easily. Maybe even beyond that, maybe even on the same level as the Demon's Head himself. That technique, where he so easily reversed his arrow into a shot of his own, without pause or hesitation, not even as he notched the damn thing and fired – that was a move that went beyond catching arrows with just one hand. That was proficiency in the bow that not even most talented archers could hope to achieve. If he fought the Hood, not only was Malcolm was sure he would lose, he was sure he would die in the process. And if he found out about the Undertaking, the League would surely back him, and even if he managed to kill the Hood then, Ra's al Ghul would hunt him down to the ends of the Earth.
He needed to eliminate this threat immediately.
Thankfully, the project at Unidac Industries was right on schedule. That, at least, was going well. That meant Malcolm, and the rest of Tempest, could focus their energies on finding the Hood. If they could identify the Hood before the Hood identified them or found out about the plan, they could eliminate him before he realized he was in danger. In an accident, obviously, so they would not arouse suspicion.
Malcolm nodded. Yes. That could work. Time to make a few calls.
He doesn't fight like a traditional speedster.
Eobard Thawne stared at the Reverse-Flash suit, rubbing his sides. While the bruises had mostly healed, the skin was still tender. It was just another reminder of how dangerous this Barry was.
He had expected to deal with a novice speedster, one who only had the slightest understanding of the power that was at his fingertips. But Barry didn't fight like that at all. He didn't rely on his speed, just used it as another tool at his disposal, another weapon, something to augment the existing skills he had. It was mind-boggling at first, but in hindsight, he should've expected that in the first place.
When he found out that Barry had been stranded on the same island as Oliver Queen, he knew that he would be getting some combat training from someone and somewhere. Eobard had barely paid any attention to that at first, figuring that all it would really mean is that he would have looser morals and would be able to throw better punches and kicks. He figured the real threat in Barry was his inability to be manipulated. Now, he had wished that he had thought things through more. Perhaps his eagerness to both play with this Barry Allen and return home had blinded him to the true strength of his enemy.
Barry Allen had been with Oliver Queen, wherever they and Kara Danvers and Clark Kent were, for the last ten years. That meant he would've been taught and trained like Oliver Queen, enough to give the man to give a decent fight in hand-to-hand combat – no small feat. Thus, Barry already had ingrained training from prior the lightning, a fighting style who did not have his immense speed as the core. And he would've been fighting with it long enough to be smart enough not to discard it in favor of his new powers, but rather use those powers to enhance it to unbelievable heights.
So, when Eobard had tried to trick him into making their fight about speed, Barry didn't take the bait. With his prior training, he would know that you don't allow your opponent the direction the fight, you don't play to their strengths, you play to your own. Instead, what he did was try to frustrate Eobard, force him to fight head-on, where Barry had the advantage in skill and at least stood a chance of hitting him.
Under certain circumstances, even with Barry's unconventional style, Eobard still would've won their clash. The speed difference was just a bit too much for Barry to handle with his current level. But with Eobard's speed constantly shorting out from the destabilized timeline and overuse, he collapsed at the wrong time in the wrong place with the wrong opponent. This Barry was not merciful, not honorable – he took every opening he got, and would've beaten him to a pulp had he not fled.
It was humiliating to know that even the past, even with a year at most with his powers, the Flash was still able to one-up him like this. Eobard was tempted, just ever so slightly, to confront Barry now for a rematch. But that would serve no purpose other than to prop up his wounded ego and make Barry suspicious.
At least the initial goal of the confrontation had been achieved. With this, Barry would no doubt try to train his powers and get faster, so that way he would be able to completely overwhelm his childhood nightmare when they inevitably faced-off again. When he was just fast enough to travel back in time, well, Eobard would know, and that was when the true endgame would start.
"And he had no idea who you were?" Barry asked, perplexed. The three vigilantes, along with Slade and Kal-El, were currently in the Foundry, recounting last night's events.
"Positive, not an ounce of recognition." Oliver confirmed.
"Strange." Kara rubbed her chin. "If that's the case, then that means he doesn't know we are former members of the League as well. If he did…"
"I don't like this. At all." Slade announced, cutting her off. "It is far too suspicious. Whoever this guy was, he was not expecting you to know that he was League-trained. He was planning on trying to catch you off guard. And the only reason he would want to do that…"
"…is if he wanted to kill me. And when he found out that I knew what the armor meant, he fled, because if he knew would attract the attention of the League if I died with an arrow in my heart or a sword wound in my chest." Oliver narrowed his eyes. "We need to send a message to Nanda Parbat. Now."
"Already on it." Barry announced, typing away at the computer. "Oh, and I met my mother's murderer last night."
Kara blinked. "Huh. How did that go?"
"Draw, technically. He fled, but he still got some good shots in, as did I. Also, I think his speed is limited, so that's something, at least. I'll still have to get faster, though." Barry spoke nonchalantly, masking the angry, yet eager tone in his voice. Patience was a virtue, certainly, but knowing his mother's murderer was still out there invoked emotions he hadn't felt in a long time.
Kal looked up at him from where was doing his homework. "He's faster than you?"
"Just enough to make a difference, so I don't need to be as fast as him – just faster."
"And on that note, I am the bearer of more interesting-to-bad news." Kara rubbed the back of her head. "The Fort Rozz escapees are working together."
Barry stopped typing and turned with everyone else to look at her. "What."
"Yup. They're working together. They all tried to rob Kord Industries last night. I had to kill about eight of them, including two Kryptonians, but the last four managed to flee."
"The bodies?" Oliver was the one to ask this.
"A.R.G.U.S. They also hushed up the actual attempted robbery itself, so don't expect to see it on the news anytime soon."
"Wait, so if they're working together, why? What goal could they possibly have?"
"Survival?" Kal-El suggested, though it sounded weak to even his ears.
"Unlikely." Slade shook his head. "They're all dangerous enough to survive on a planet like this on their own. Kara herself says we're as backwater as they come, at least on the galactic stage."
"We are. Survival here is not an issue, especially since metahumans haven't been on the rise until recently, thanks to the Particle Accelerator Explosion, and even then, it's been mostly contained to the West Coast. No, there's something bigger at play. Something much bigger; else, why bother robbing Kord Industries? If it were survival, going after a technology giant instead of a convenience store or something with sustenance would be a poor choice." Kara pointed out.
Oliver sat down in another chair, fingertips pressed together. "We'll have to capture one of them. Not only to find out their plans, but also to figure out the location of their base."
"You're positive they have a base?" Slade quirked an eyebrow.
"They're working together, and have been stuck on a foreign planet for the last ten years. Prior to that, they were imprisoned in an area of space where time stood still. They would want stability, familiarity, and while everything on this planet is foreign at first, stay in one place long enough and it becomes familiar with time. Plus, with so many prisoners, it would be a hassle to try and inform everyone where their base of operations moved, so having one area to base themselves in would be the most convenient tactical move." Oliver explained.
"So. We're searching Starling City, a city filled with over half a million people in it, for a completely unknown League member. At the same time, Barry's mom's murderer has resurfaced, and he clearly has plans of his own. And finally, we got to snuff out a base filled to brim with alien convicts, a significant amount of whom are probably Kryptonian, and all of whom are most likely planning something big, that is most likely not beneficial to the world at large." Kal-El summed up for all of them, setting down his pencil.
"Yes." Oliver deadpanned, only to his expression to change to one of confusion when the computer's distress beacon set off.
"Waller wants us three in Detroit, soon as we can." Barry announced loudly, gesturing to himself, Oliver, and Kara, as he read the message on the screen. "Says she wants us to confront a new metahuman that's surfaced there. Maybe press-gang them into Task Force X if they're criminals."
"And why would we do that?" Kara glared at the screen. Damn that woman for being able to hack their systems so easily.
"She says if we don't, Slade goes on the run tomorrow."
Oliver sighed. "I'll go prep the jet."
Next chapter is something completely different, in which our little trio meets someone new. If you have any familiarity with the Arrowverse and Detroit, you'll know who it is.