Young Justice: The Gold Corps, Chapter 8: Bonds

….

I don't own Young Justice or the Green Lantern Corps. Please read and review!

….

Chapter 8: Bonds

What would be deep space by most human standards: Sinestro, Arkillo, and Lyssa Drak floated in the emptiness between the planets. Sinestro had given the orders, and, of course, they'd been obeyed. One simply did not disobey an order by Thaal Sinestro.

Lyssa Drak remained calm, as always. But Arkillo visibly fidgeted. Sinestro glanced his way, suppressed a slight smile. Sometimes he derived a certain amount of perverse satisfaction from seeing his underlings squirm. Sometimes it was instructive. "Arkillo." The yellow lantern started upon hearing his name. "I've a question for you."

"Yes, my lord?"

"There is a human saying: if something walks like a duck, and sounds like a duck, and looks like a duck, it very probably is a duck. Would you not agree this is a logical statement?"

Arkillo looked at his master as though he'd lost his mind. "Er. I, I suppose, my lord. Er, what is a 'duck,' anyway?"

"It doesn't matter. The statement is meant to indicate that outward appearance is a strong indicator of probability as to a thing's nature."

"Er…"

"But what if that were not so?"

"I don't understand."

Sinestro rubbed his chin. "A thing may look like something that it is not, agreed?"

Cautiously, "Agreed."

"Then how would you tell it apart? How would you tell the thing from what it appears to be?"

"Er, I don't know…?"

"You would have to test it. Its superficial nature would have to be subjected to a variety of tests. Supposing, in the case of our Earthly duck, you would have to dissect it, take it apart, examine it on a more detailed level than mere physical appearance."

"Ye-es, this much is obvious…" Lyssa Drak floated between them, a slight smile on her face. She'd come to much the same conclusion as Sinestro had.

"Now, take the case of this wielder of the golden light. We know nothing about this light, nor what emotion it is connected to. Would you not say further investigation is in order?"

"Of course."

"Consider further: there are cosmic entities involved. And the Source is rumored to have some effect upon our Gold Lantern, or at least some involvement. How do we go about testing this golden light?"

"Uh…"

"We must, as the human saying goes, 'put him through his paces.' See how he responds in given circumstances. Particularly dangerous ones, for only there will his true power be tested, will we really have any idea as to the force that powers him. That is why I have agreed to this ridiculous Mr. Smith's proposal. Of course he wants to rule the world.

"He simply thinks too small, that's all."

Several light-hours away, behind an asteroid, observing via his ring, Guy Gardner overheard the exchange between Sinestro and his lieutenant, and smiled a feral smile. Go right ahead, clown. Think you're one step ahead of everybody.

This could actually be fun.

…

"Kim DeMato" and "Collin DeMato" had been welcomed into the Church of New Enlightenment's shelter. In a move that surprised Rose, they'd been assigned quarters together. This was not what she'd expected.

Ever since the incident the other night, Rose Wilson had been on her guard around Ragnar. The job required her to work with him, otherwise she would've called it off right then, not because he'd hurt her—he actually hadn't—but because it was unexpected. And, if he was to be believed—and for some reason, she did—even he didn't know what had happened.

Rose Wilson, aka Ravager, had known quite a bit of personal pain in her life, only a small part of it physical. The worst injuries are those medical science can never treat, because it can never see them. How well she knew that.

But boy was she ever gonna give Nightwing an earful when she was able to break radio silence. He could've warned her!

Ragnar (Collin, she reminded herself, unnecessarily; Rose Wilson was far too well trained to make such a blunder as using his real name) was showering off. The staff members who'd showed them in had provided them both with a book each, a book that Rose at first thought was a Bible, but on second glance proved to be some totally unrelated text. She thumbed through it, there in the small room they'd been allotted, reading parts. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen. It seemed to be composed of bits and pieces of various ancient religious tomes, intermixed with some material she couldn't identify, all leading up to some apocalyptic conclusions.

He came out of the bathroom, already in his pajamas, the plain white blouse and pants combination that he'd checked in with. Rose's own was much the same, but a little more feminine, in keeping with their cover story of being the kids of a well-to-do couple seeking to "find themselves" here in California.

She eyed him appreciatively. Not bad. Not bad at all. He'd used his ring to change his appearance to that of a young Caucasian man, but he'd retained the thick black hair and dark eyes. About the only thing really different about him was his skin color. Rather than the chocolate brown he normally employed for school, this was straight-up vanilla Midwest. Another level of concealment.

He silently came over to his bed, one of two twin beds in the room, pulled down the covers and started to get in. "Penny for 'em," she said. The silence was getting a little thick.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me." He refused to meet her gaze.

She sighed. Okay, she'd said some things. Rose knew she had a temper, and sometimes it got the better of her. "Well, that was then, this is now. Besides, I don't think you meant…it…in any hurtful way." He shook his head, still unsure as what he'd actually done. It had only happened once before, and he still couldn't figure it out. "Now, if you'd, like, assaulted me, or something, well, we wouldn't be having this conversation, because one or both of us would be dead, but I don't-*"

"I would never strike you, Kim," he replied quickly. Points, she thought: he remembered to use her "cover" name.

"That's not what I meant. Look. Until you get a better handle on modern English usage, maybe you'd better let me do most of the talking, okay? You play the big dumb kid brother who always does what big sissy says. Just…play along with that, 'kay?" He nodded. She had already gone over the room as best as she could with no tools. There were either no bugs in the room or else they were more sophisticated than she could detect.

"As you wish, Kim."

The next morning: orientation for new members was held in the main dining hall. Brother Smith took the podium and greeted them warmly. "I know that many of you are here seeking answers. I've answers to give. But it will require patience, on both our parts. You are now within my realm of responsibility; I am responsible for you. So you will be required to do certain things, to behave in certain ways that you are not accustomed to. But that's part of the search for enlightenment, after all.

"First, there are the obvious rules: no fighting, no stealing, no foul language. I realize that today's youth has their own patois, but you are here now, and the first rite of passage for any step towards enlightenment is whether or not you are willing to change your old ways. If you aren't, the same doors you came in will let you out. They're not locked. Leave now.

"But that's another thing: you must make a commitment to being here, to change. You cannot simply come and go as you will. You can out there, but if you choose to leave, you cannot come back. Those aren't revolving doors.

"What we expect from you is commitment. Commitment to change. What you can expect from us is also commitment…and support. Change is never easy. In many cases, it is beyond the power of a single individual to accomplish. That's why this mission was founded: to support those who want to change.

"Another thing we expect from you is study. You are to study the Book you've been given. Everything here is geared around that. How far you advance in this organization will depend on two things: your own commitment, and your willingness to study. Those two things are non-negotiable.

"So. With that, I'll let you get back to your studies. For make no mistake: this sorry world is coming to an end, and sooner than most of you suspect. But every ending is also a beginning.

"Will you be part of it? Or will you be left out?"

…

Rose and Ragnar decorated their own mutual room with the stock materials Nightwing had provided: grainy photos, a few keepsakes. Some of the pictures depicted a younger version of "Kim" and "Collin" together with people who resembled them, and so could be family. Rose wondered about their being assigned a single room; it was quite possible that the powers-that-be figured rooming her with her "brother" was a safe enough bet…and if they weren't really brother and sister, well, this might be a good way of finding out.

She still had a bit of discomfort about being in such close quarters with Ragnar. It wasn't just that he was, yes, okay, attractive. It was that he was, in at least one important regard, an unknown. He'd demonstrated an ability that he couldn't account for, and wasn't sure he could control.

And she could still feel him, somehow, around the edges of her mind. At first, she'd demanded he get out, but he'd protested that he had no telepathic ability. He had no clue what his mental presence was doing in her head either. "So what was your take, today, on what Brother Smith said?" she asked, that night, as they readied for bed.

"Uncertain. He evidently believes—with strong conviction—that the world hasn't long to live. He seems to expect some sort of social collapse rather than an actual physical ending."

She nodded. "My sentiments, exactly. And did you catch that, when he said that 'how far you advance' thing? So evidently, there are levels of involvement here, something like a paramilitary, or even a military situation. I wonder," she bit her lip, "I wonder if he's not trying to put together his own army, his own police force, to take over when the regular ones go the way of the dodo bird. That would…make sense. You?"

"Yes. My thoughts exactly. But, Kim, there is one thing I noticed about him."

"Spill."

"He uses fear. I used to think that I was to teach fear to others so they wouldn't die…but he uses the fear of others. But how, I am not exactly certain."

"Standard yellow lantern tactics. Sinestro would be proud."

"Something else. He is dangerous, Kim. Very dangerous."

…..

He walked, as he'd walked so far for so long. After a time, the walking itself became a kind of occupation.

But he was here because his senses had told him that his ancient foe had resurfaced here in this new, strange world, a world that seemed so ripe for him, a world for which he'd no doubt waited, all these centuries. And he would find his enemy. And this time, only one of them would continue to walk the night.

…..

Rose and Ragnar attended their first "instructional" meeting the next morning. It mostly consisted of Brother Smith reading from the book he'd supplied them with, emphasizing the apocalyptic elements, how every major religion on Earth had some prophecy about the end of the world. "Doesn't it make sense," he asked, "that, if EVERYbody is convinced of a thing, that there must be something to it? The ancient Norse men, the Greeks and Romans, the Mayans, Christianity…they all have this in common. The details differ, but the end result is the same: the world will end. The ancients conceived it as being the literal end of the world, but the planet itself may not be so much in jeopardy, as human society, as it currently is, is facing an expiration date. One that's coming." He paused for effect. "Which side do you want to be on?"

Lunch: Ragnar and Rose got their trays and sat at a long table with the other students of the Church of New Enlightenment. Rose had deliberately "uglified" herself, to some degree, applying makeup so as to give herself the appearance of someone a lot paler and less healthy. This grated on her personal vanity a bit, but it was required for undercover work.

"Hey," said one of the boys, one of a group sitting next to her. "Cutie. You've just now arrived, haven't you?"

'Cutie'? Okay, warning flag. "Yes," she responded in a meek voice, in keeping with her character: a runaway in a strange environment, still trying to orient herself.

"I'm Adam. I'm one of the guys in charge around here." He paused, eyeing her up and down, obviously expecting her to be impressed with his statement. There had been nothing Rose could do about her figure, except to wear baggy clothing. "How about I show you around, show you how things work around here?" His words were innocent enough, but she could easily read what he wasn't actually putting into words.

"I…I have to study. And, and, I can't leave my brother here," she nodded to Ragnar, who'd finished his soup and was following the conversation, but without saying anything. "He's…well, sometimes he needs help."

"Hey, we all need help sometimes. And he'll be okay for a couple of hours. It won't take long." He turned and grinned at his comrades. "Trust me. You can come help me."

Ragnar spoke up for the first time. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"'Scuze me, was I talkin' to you? I'm talking to your sister, dude. Stay outta this."

Ragnar got up and rounded the table. Rose sighed. Well, there went the cover story. She'd have to modify it a little. "No," he said.

The boy, still grinning, got up, with several of his colleagues joining him. "So what'cha gonna do, big boy? Take us all on? You know Brother Smith's policy on fighting, don't'cha?"

"Yes." Ragnar cracked his knuckles audibly. "You're about to learn mine."

….

"I'm sorry, Brother Smith," Rose was saying, "My brother has…anger issues. And he's, uh, sorta overprotective, sometimes. I guess I should've mentioned that."

"Hm, yes, you should have." Smith was looking over a report. It hadn't really been much of a fight so much as a massacre: Ragnar had been unstoppable, taking no damage whatsoever. Rose remembered what Dick had said about Ragnar's having some of Doomsday's genetic material…she could believe it. "Still, although I can't condone this action, I have to say, I understand. That boy he fought has been trouble before, propositioning several of the young women here. On the outside, there were even rumors that…well. That's neither here nor there. But he will be dealt with. Severely.

"But I will also have to do something with the two of you. After all, your brother did initiate the actual conflict, regardless of his provocations. I had considered separating the two of you, but I don't think that's a wise idea right now. You seem to have a calming effect on him, and, right now, that's a needed ingredient.

"But there's something I have to know, something I have to ask. And I know of no delicate way of putting this." He looked her full in the face. "Do you and your brother have any kind of…intimate relationship?"

"What?! No! El barfo!" Rose had long ago learned how to fake a blush. "Whatever made you think that?"

Smith shrugged. "You'd be surprised how often it happens. And it's almost never reported, for a variety of reasons. But especially in the demographic you two came from: upper-middle-class parents, gone most of the time, the two of you left there, alone in the house, minimal servant activity, and very little contact with other children. It's not uncommon for some young children to play 'doctor,' or other similar games, with matters getting out of hand before anyone knows it. I know it's not a pleasant subject, but I had to know before I proceeded."

"Proceeded? With what?"

Smith leaned back in his chair. "Your brother has potential. So do you, in a way. I can see the two of you being in positions of responsibility here, in this organization. But first, you've a ways to go to prove yourself. And so does he."

Back in their room, Ragnar had already changed out of the plain clothes he wore every day to another set of equally plain clothes he wore every other day when she came in. "Thanks for almost blowing things," she steamed, hurling her books and notebooks on the bed.

Ragnar said nothing, but just continued to sit at the single desk in the room, intently reading the book they'd been provided with. "I could'a handled it, you know." Still nothing. "What, you think that's the first time a guy's ever come onto me?" Still more nothing. Rose was beginning to get a little nervous about that.

Well, screw him. She had things to do. She went into the bathroom and showered off, putting on clean clothes. The shelter provided some plain but serviceable garments, usually pullover shirts and blue jeans in various shades of "used." Not a shopping mall, but people often donated old clothing to the shelter in the hopes that it would be given to the needy, which it was. Most of the young people who came to the shelter, came from homes across America much like the one in Rose and Ragnar's cover story: upper-middle class. When the kids left, it often never occurred to them that money might actually be a problem, somewhere down the line. So they'd have been unprepared for the harsher realities of life, such as that people don't go around just giving you stuff.

Either that, or they came from maladjusted homes, sometimes horrifically so. Some of the girls were here, having been victimized, molested by their own fathers. Others had "simply" been the subject of some form of abuse, whether verbal, emotional, psychological, or physical. And at some point, they'd decided they just couldn't stand it anymore. But they, too, were often ill-equipped to deal with the reality of life on the streets.

For such people, seeking relief from the pain of life, and nourishment of both body and spirit, the shelter existed. Supposedly.

She sat down and began to read the book they'd been given. Most of it was gibberish, but it all sounded very esoteric and spiritual. Just the sort of thing to appeal to young people looking for meaning in an ever-more confusing world.

Ragnar got up and lay down on his bed, his back to her. She spared him a glance. Why was he so silent? Was he embarrassed about losing control today? "Collin? Do we need to talk?" Rose had never been very good at talking about things like this…whatever "this" was.

"No."

She came over and sat on her bed beside him. "I think maybe we do. Something's bothering you."

He sighed, and, without another word, got up and left the room. No, we do not.

Oh, well, she thought. I tried.

…..

Deep space: Sinestro's team steadily watched the progress of the asteroid. It was following the exact course Smith had said it would; Lyssa Drak wondered how the human had been able to find it, when apparently, no one else had.

Of course, it wasn't moving fast enough to suit either Smith's or Sinestro's time table. So the yellow lanterns had been nudging it, pushing it slightly, altering its vector, all the while careful to maintain the stealth field around it. Lyssa Drak estimated it would impact with the planet in about a week. Or, rather, it would, without interference.

"Everything is going according to schedule, my lord," she reported, with a half bow, a gesture acknowledging Sinestro's superiority over her.

"Good, good. What of the so-called 'heroes' of Earth? Do they suspect?"

"I can detect no signs that they suspect anything out of the ordinary, my lord. Though of course, they are cautious. In that, they are wise."

"Indeed." Sinestro thought for a minute longer. "Did you uncover any more evidence of this young 'Tommy Walker' I charged you with?"

"Only negative evidence, my lord. I checked the school records, and they do not list him. Although I was unable to move about freely without arousing undue suspicion, I could find no one who remembers him. The family he was staying with have no recollection of him." She'd posed as a social worker, out checking up on children displaced by the Blackest Night. But the family Tommy Walker had been staying with…did not remember him.

"Hm." Sinestro stroked his chin. "I think it safe to say, young Mr. Walker, or whatever name he went by, is yet another cosmic entity. That makes two such beings interested in Earth.

"One wonders why."

…..

Mars: M'gann was seated in her lotus position in the middle of her sparse quarters when the door chimed. "Yes?"

The door irised open to reveal Arisia, of the Green Lantern Corps. "Hey, M'gann. I was in the neighborhood and….well, actually, I wasn't quite in the neighborhood, er, that is, unless you count the Milky Way galaxy as 'the neighborhood'…."

M'gann smiled, but there was more than a hint of sadness in it. "I get the picture, Arisia. I'm glad you came by."

Arisia moved into the middle of the room, noting the furnishings: a tiny Martian bed, an uncomfortable looking chair, a diminutive desk…and a restroom. There was no touch of color, no artwork, no sign of personal belongings, none of the personal touches one normally decorates one's home with, when one has stayed there any length of time. The overall feeling was one of austerity and even sterility, as if distractions were either frowned upon or not allowed. "How've you been, M'gann?"

Again a sad smile. "Alright, I guess. The mystics are telling me I'm getting a handle on the implanted meme that beast put in me. I don't know how they know. I don't feel any different." She sighed, sitting there cross-legged. "I, I don't know if…I don't know if any of this will work or not. Not until…how is he, Arisia?"

"Honestly? Look in a mirror, and put his face there. He misses you something terrible, M'gann. But if you needed me to tell you that, the Martian mystics have more work to do than they thought."

M'gann sat silent for a moment, thinking. Then, "I, I wish I could just see him, without, without, you know…"

Arisia gathered her into a quick hug. "You will, soon enough. In the meantime, he's coping. I understand he and Doomsday have become the official Mad Scientists for the Team." And she proceeded to tell the Martian girl all about the micro-bot replicator device Ragnar and Doomsday had concocted for Artemis's quiver. "And they made one for Nightwing's belt, and one for Batgirl, of course. But they couldn't let well enough alone. Last I heard, they were trying to adapt the same process to a bottomless bag of Doritos. Needless to say, Wally was all for that."

M'gann actually smiled a little. She could just see Ragnar hunched over in a lab, somewhere, feverishly working on a cornucopia bag of Doritos, not realizing that it would probably lead to acute indigestion for their fastest team member. But then she sobered. "I can't even use my telepathy, even. Now it's only line of sight. And…" Again, the tears started to flow.

Again, Arisia gathered her up into a hug. "Well, you'll see him soon enough. I believe you will, the Martian mystics believe you will, Hal and John believe you will, and so does Nightwing. They're all waiting for you to come back, and come back whole. And you will." M'gann sniffed. Arisia drew a deep breath. Now or never. "And….one other thing. Ragnar gave me something to give to you, when I saw you next."

Sniff. "Oh? What?"

The golden Green Lantern very solemnly pulled out a small, velvet covered box, and offered it to M'gann, whose eyes grew three times their normal size when she saw it. "A-arisia? Is…is that…?'

"Go on, M'gann," she said softly. "Open it. Don't be afraid."

Slowly, M'gann opened the box. Inside was an exquisitely-wrought, 1/10th karat "promise" ring, its set designed to look like the Milky Way galaxy, and perfectly shaped to her finger. "Try it on, M'gann. We can have it resized, if we need to."

As if in a dream, M'gann slipped the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. This was not a Martian custom, but it nonetheless was one she was familiar with. Extremely familiar with. "I…I…I" She couldn't even complete the thought in her mind.

"And Ragnar believes you can beat this thing, M'gann. That's why he sent you this. I don't see how he can make it any plainer." Pause. "He wanted to give it to you himself, but, well, you know. But will you accept it, from him, through me?"

Again, the Martian girl broke into tears, leaning against Arisia. But these were tears of joy, the first she'd cried in what seemed like years. "Yes, yes, of course I'll, I'll accept it….I'll accept him, I mean…"

So far, so good. One down, one to go, thought the golden GL, from behind her psychic shields, as she sat there, holding M'gann. Now if I can just get Ragnar to play along….

Earth: Brother Smith had summoned Rose to a private meeting. "It's about your brother. I really believe he has great potential."

"Well, thank you, sir. Uhm, why isn't he here?" She'd been told to clean herself up, and been given some soft, rather luxurious yellow robes to wear. This is where he hits on me, Rose thought, preparing herself. It had all the signs of it.

"In due time. Here. Put this on. A small token of my esteem, and a badge of authority." He presented her with a small bracelet, which snapped around her left wrist easily.

Rose examined that bracelet cautiously. It was ornate, apparently silver or some similar substance, and bore a sigil in the middle of it, one she'd seen hanging on the walls at the Church of New Enlightenment. "Thank you, sir."

"You're most welcome. Now, come with me. We've something to attend to. A rite of passage, so to speak." And he led her into a complex maze of underground passages Rose had previously not suspected existed. Finally, after many twists and turns, they came upon a small room overlooking an amphitheater, lined with rows upon rows of seats. Seats that were currently empty.

He led her to a couple of overstuffed chairs overlooking the amphitheater, and motioned for her to sit down. Her unease rising, Rose did so.

Then a small door down on the main floor was opened, and Ragnar stepped into the enclosed space. At the same time, Rose noticed a cage being trundled in from the other side.

"Mr. DeMato," Brother Smith addressed Ragnar. "You are about to undergo a most crucial test." And Rose saw, with alarm, that there was a black bear in the cage being wheeled in. "Here is your opponent. You must defeat it, and emerge victorious. I warn you that nothing short of death will stop the creature; its trainers have seen to that."

Ragnar looked up at the balcony where Smith and Rose awaited. "I don't fight for your personal amusement."

"Indeed you do not. That is not the point of this endeavor. But should you refuse to fight, or should you lose…

"…then your sister's life is forfeit."

To be continued….