Young Justice / Green Lantern Corps: The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 9: Deep

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The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 9: Deep

Rose gasped, this development coming as a complete surprise. "No! You, you can't! He'll be killed!"

"Have a little faith, Kim." She started to rip at the bracelet, when he said, "I really wouldn't do that, my dear. That wristband incorporates a small remote detonated explosive. Any unauthorized removal will result in fully authorized removal of your hand." She stopped and glared. He didn't bother to notice, but simply sat back and eyed Ragnar, down below him.

Ragnar eyed him back. "If any harm comes to my sister," he said, his voice low but clearly audible, "I will kill you."

"Then you can best begin seeing to her safety by defeating your opponent, can you not?" The bear, by this time, had spotted him, and rushed at him, jaws slavering.

Its first blow knocked Ragnar down and away. He sprang back to his feet, already in stance. This was his own childhood nightmare come to unwelcome life: the night-hunting predators, unleashed upon him once again.

And he dared not use his ring, this time, for fear of blowing their cover.

Instead, he stood to face the animal. He'd been a child then, and terrified, but he was a child no longer.

He met the bear's charge head-on, jamming his arm into its mouth, even as he avoided its claws raking for his face, his stiffened knuckles driving into its throat…

The battle was drawn-out and brutal, with none of the finesse such as Nightwing or Rose herself might have used. In the end, the bear lay broken, bleeding, and quite dead, its neck broken, with Ragnar bleeding profusely, but unbroken and standing. He looked up at Brother Smith. There was absolutely nothing civilized about his expression.

"Bravo, young man. A superb accomplishment. You've earned an elevated position in my organization this day. You may return to your room, and your sister will join you there."

He stood there in the center of the amphitheater, every inch of him bloody, chest heaving, the light of battle not even close to going out of his eyes. For a moment, Rose was certain he was going to spring upon Brother Smith, with every intention of ripping him apart. But then he mastered himself with an obvious effort, turned, and left by the just-opened door behind him.

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Rose stormed into the room they shared, slammed the door shut…and brought herself up short, as though she'd run into a wall.

Ragnar stood in the middle of the room, his back to her, his body a bloody mess, his clothes in tatters, but his cuts and wounds healing even as she watched. But what caught her attention was the way he stood: straight enough, but with shoulders and chest heaving. Like someone on the verge of completely losing control.

Of course, she knew what she ought to do: in keeping with her character, she should rush up to him, fling her arms around him, sobbing something about him being alright…but an instinct more ancient than humanity itself cautioned her to move more slowly. "Hey, hey," she said, coming up to him, coming around from the front. Something told her not to approach him from behind right then.

She put her arms around him, carefully, but trying to keep in character. "Hey, calm down, brother, fight's over. C'mon." She rubbed his back, trying to reach him.

He tensed. Rose had been in more battles than anyone except Nightwing, and she could tell the signs of someone getting ready to attack. She held onto him, as she murmured, "shhh. It's okay, it's alright, you did good, just take it easy," even as she positioned herself to use his strength against him, should he attack…

But would she be able to stop him even then? He obviously had considerably greater than human strength, something else Nightwing had curiously failed to mention. Another thing to yell at him about, when this was all over. "C'mon, calm down, it's alright…" She pressed herself up against him, both to deny him leverage, and to keep a reassuring physical contact. "Hey, you saved me. C'mon. It's okay now. All over."

For one brief, awful moment, she was sure he was going to backhand her into the wall, and braced herself as best as she could. But he struggled with himself, and finally she felt the tension easing out of the muscles she was halfway massaging. "K-Kim?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, it's Kim, now come on back to me, okay? Fight's over. You won. Now, come on. We gotta get you cleaned up. You're a mess." She stripped off the tatters of his clothes, except for his shorts. "Come on." She led him into the small bathroom, which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. "Here." She turned on the water, full force. "Get in. Then hand me those," she said, gesturing to his ruined boxer shorts. At his hesitation, she said, "Oh, come on, brother. I'll hand you a dry pair before you get out. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen your junk before."

"My ju-* I will never understand Ear-*, I mean hu-*, I mean, your idioms." But she breathed easier when he got in, then, with the shower curtain closed, handed the tattered shorts out to her. She immediately dropped them in the garbage, getting him a fresh set of underwear while she was at it. While he showered, she changed her own clothes, and thought.

Was this Brother Smith's grand plan? Take street orphans, build them up into a private army? It had the advantage of simplicity: young, disaffected men and women from all walks of life, connecting in mutual servitude to a common benefactor, one with a clear vision of a bright and glorious future for them all, and an oppressive "establishment" culture to rebel against and isolate themselves from. Cults usually started out like that.

While she waited for him to get out, she pieced together in her mind how such an organization would have to work. This wouldn't be the only city with a "shelter" run by the estimable Brother Smith; there was probably one in every major city. But how could they get the dirt on the guy? At their low level of clearance, neither of them was trusted with a computer terminal….

Rose smiled grimly. There were other ways of getting information. More direct ways.

But for now, she had a partner to take care of. She had to admit, she'd been impressed. Anybody else would be a pile of mangled flesh, but Ragnar was whole and healthy. And that's when she realized the obvious, and cursed herself for not seeing it before, although she didn't see what anybody could have done about it. Now Smith knew Ragnar was more than he appeared. He might not know what the Gold Lantern was, but he had a pretty clear idea what he wasn't. He wasn't ordinary.

Had that been the whole purpose of this test, to see if her "brother" was "normal"? If so, he'd failed that test. What other such tests might lie in store for them?

Well, one thing at a time. "Collin? You about done in there?"

"Yes, Kim." He shut the water off, and she handed him the dry underwear, which he donned behind the shower curtain.

"Come on," she said, leading him back into the main room, motioning for him to lie face down on his bed. "And here, take that shirt off, first. Let me get a better look at you."

"You need do nothing, you know," he whispered, his face against the pillow. "I'm almost fully healed now."

Physically, yeah, she thought. But she'd seen his primal side.

"Right," she hissed back, bending over him, her mouth close to his ear, trying to bring him back to full reality. This wasn't the time or the place for anything less. "and it would be perfectly normal for me, your loving sister, to come in here, see you all torn up like that, knowing what you went through…and do absolutely nothing about it. At least pretend to have a little sense." Jesus God. He was almost as irritating as Doomsday. Maybe it was some kinda outer space gene they both had: the power to piss her off. For about the millionth time, she wished she was working with a professional, someone like Nightwing, or one of the Robins. Even Red Arrow. Anybody but Mork from Ork here. She pushed him face down on the bed and straddled him, feeling for broken bones or dislocated ribs. "Besides, I don't care if you're Superman himself, you could still have injuries. So just be a good little brother and lie there, 'kay?" He said nothing, and she sighed to herself. They were gonna have to get past this him not saying anything business. Or else he would explode. Sooner or later.

Of course, she thought, glumly, that might be Brother Smith's plan.

Since consciousness first formed, all higher organisms had developed an inbuilt urge to survive, to defend themselves and to protect their own. Those instincts are as powerful as they are deep, and not easily tamed. If at all.

He'd just fought a life-or-death battle for her. His own life had been in jeopardy, true, but that had actually been almost of secondary importance. He'd been deliberately goaded into protecting his…partner. His friend. His "sister." Even if there had been no bond at all between them before, there certainly was now. And now, this served to bind them even closer together. How would Brother Smith use that?

Now he was feeling the aftereffects of coming down off that adrenaline high. Even annoyed and frustrated as she was, she had to be careful. So much of him was, after all, an unknown quantity.

She felt all over him, noting the musculature, the placement of spinal column and ribs, the visibly healing cuts and bruises. Okay, so yeah, he was healing. She wished she could heal like that.

It felt…strangely good to keep rubbing her hands over his back like that. Kind of a sensual feeling.

"Kim?"

"Yeah, uhm, turn over." He did so, and she proceeded to examine him from that angle. She lifted and rotated his joints. "No pain there?"

"None."

She felt across his chest, feeling nothing out of the ordinary (but noting, while she did so, how….delicious that chest and abdomen looked). Her hands explored down, feeling around his ribs. "Any pain there?"

"No, Kim."

"Yeah, well, you must be the luckiest SOB I've ever encountered. I don't think anybody this side of Supes himself could'a just walked away from that with only minor scratches. You aren't even bruised anymore." His bruises had disappeared while she'd been examining him. She moved her hands across his chest. "You must have the devil's own luck." She kept rubbing her hands across his chest, absently. She wasn't even aware she was doing it. It just felt good.

"Kim?"

"Mm?"

"Is something wrong? You seem a little flushed."

"Oh. Uhm, right. Here." She got up off of him, and tossed him his shirt. "Get dressed." She sighed, and came back over and sat down by him once he had. "I don't think either of us is gonna get much sleep tonight."

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The warrior moved along the corridor, taking care to avoid the security cameras. He easily spotted them, and could have simply interfered with their function, but that would have called attention to a blind spot in the shelter's internal surveillance system.

He did his best to remain inconspicuous, as he knew he'd probably have to kill anyone he encountered. His past experience with his ancient adversary had taught him that, once anyone was accepted as a guard, initiated into the inner circle, they were usually so heavily indoctrinated, so thoroughly brainwashed that naught save death would stop them. Leaving a living enemy behind him, to come up behind him at the worst moment, was simply not acceptable battle tactics.

Of course, he did have one of the most effective disguises on the planet at his disposal.

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"You want me to do what?!" Hal Jordan's words were almost a shriek.

"Keep it down, willya?" Arisia had cornered him in the watchtower, just outside his quarters. "Look, come on, let's go in here. Too many people around here." And she half-dragged him into his quarters. Closed the door behind them, and turned to face him.

"You want me," he said, incredulously, "to give Ragnar Rok, the Gold Lantern, and who's a guy, by the way, a promise ring? Did the universe just now stop making sense, or am I just now noticing it?"

"Oh, calm down. I don't want you to give it to him from you. I want you to tell him it's from M'gann. Only she can't deliver it in person. See? Simple."

He stared at her. "Arisia…I hope this isn't another one of your god-awful schemes…."

"Well, of course it isn't." He relaxed slightly. "It's one of my terrific schemes! I've already given M'gann one, telling her it's from Ragnar; now all we need is for him to get one from her. That'll make both their days, and give 'em something to hope for. You know how you've been telling me he's been moping around? Well, this is just the thing. Way better than a postcard!"

He backed away. Hal Jordan, like all Green Lanterns, had been chosen for his ability to overcome great fear, but there was a difference between fear and abject terror. "Look, 'Risia, you're playing a very very dangerous game here. It could easily blow up in your face, wreck both their lives. And we'd be right square in the middle of it, at, at ground zero. I know you don't want that."

"Oh, come on, Hal. I've just come from M'gann, and she was digging a new dump, just to be down in. Now don't you think they both need a confidence booster?"

"Confidence booster, yes. Outright lie, no. Now, Arisia. Listen to me. You really need to let these two sort this out themselves. I know you mean well, but this has all the earmarks of a starship crash just waiting to happen."

"Come on, Hal! Look, don't you think Ragnar would give M'gann a promise ring, if he even knew about the custom?"

"Well…." That was true; he probably would.

"And you know he'd accept one from her. Done deal. So really, all we're doing here is being a little proactive. No harm done. Now, come on," she added, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Besides. I've already given M'gann one, from 'Ragnar.' If he doesn't get one from her, it'll throw everything off. You don't wanna get me in trouble, now, do you?"

Hal Jordan gave up. He knew an Irresistible Force when she was talking to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, and sighed. "Okay. I have a really bad feeling about this, but okay. But…I am not gonna just walk up and give it to him. That'd be a little too weird, even in SoCal. I'll mail it to him, with," and here, his face took on a defeated expression, "a note stating it's from her. Okay? That's the best I can do."

She threw her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. "That'll be great, Hal! And you'll see: nothing can possibly go wrong!"

To be continued…