The Gold Corps: Gold Justice, Chapter 12: Hunches

Oa: Lianna called Ganthet to one side. {{I have a confession to make. Plus, I need your input on a matter regarding the Gold Lantern. In private.}}

They moved into a small cubicle from which they could see the results of the ongoing tests. {{Alright. We are alone. Now, what did you need from me?}}

She hesitated. {{I acted without authorization. I infected Ragnar Rok with the virus XM-115.}}

Ganthet was stunned. {{What? That is the deadliest virus known to us! Certain death! And you infected Rok with this? Why?}}

{{I had a hunch. Based on what he told us, about breaking his arm, combined with the message his father left him, I…Well. Perhaps I can show you better than I can tell you.}} She summoned up the test results on Ragnar, onto the screen, there, in the room. {{I infected him two standard days ago. The virus acts very quickly, as you know. Yet…look.}} She showed him the images, the readouts.

{{I…I see no trace of any foreign virus. What happened?}}

{{I watched the scans very closely, once I had injected the virus into his circulatory system. Now look:}} She instructed the computer to run a progressive slide show of the electron microscope's scan of the cells in Ragnar's body. {{See those protein chains? That's the virus. Watch.}}

The virus chains "stuck" to the outer cell walls, and rapidly entered into the cells themselves. But rather than highjacking the cell's DNA, they were incorporated into the cell's basic structure. The whole process took only a few minutes; the virus chains themselves were, not destroyed, but actually assimilated into Ragnar's body. {{And he showed no sign of illness whatsoever.}}

{{Hm.}} Ganthet thought. He knew there were some races, some species, that had the ability to heal themselves rapidly, but this was beyond that. The virus labeled XM-115 was the deadliest the Guardians had ever come across. Infection invariably meant death within a matter of hours, or less. {{And he never even noticed?}}

She shook her head. {{Never. And this corresponds with what he told us, about never being sick. And about his breaking his arm; his healing factor is several orders of magnitude above anything in our experience.}}

{{Hm.}} Ganthet rubbed his chin, a gesture not confined to humans {{Yet, he was assaulted with a perfectly ordinary knife, on Earth. That almost killed him.}}

{{I'd be willing to wager that, were that to be tried now, it would prove ineffective. Remember, he doesn't just recover quickly; the evidence points to his actually adapting to harmful events. He himself stated that he never again broke a bone, even though he fell in ways that seemed to him as though he ought to.}}

{{But what to make of this? He heals more rapidly than any other organism on record, aside, that is, from Doomsday himself. This can't be the weapon his parents placed within him, can it?}}

She sighed. {{I don't see how. But it is a factor to consider.}}

He shook his head. {{I cannot sanction your actions. But I also cannot deny the fact that it did provide us with more data. He shows no signs of infection? None, whatsoever?}} In the past, whole worlds had had to be quarantined, decimated, due to an outbreak of XM-115. Many worlds had become "ghost planets," their entire populace killed by the fast-acting virus. {{This…fits in with what the recording was telling us: that young Ragnar seems to have something of the monster's own healing ability. But how, how, can this be the key to stopping the monster's rampage? Or is it, even?}}

….

Ragnar was flying back to Earth, accompanied by John Stewart. The two were conversing, via their respective rings. "So, did the Guardians come up with anything?"

"Nothing they told me about. The only thing they said was, I seem to heal rapidly from any injury. I previously had…I suppose, taken that for granted."

John flew alongside him for a moment, studying him. "Ragnar…it seems like something's bothering you."

Ragnar nodded. "The knowledge of impending death usually does, John Stewart.

"Whaaat?"

But the Gold Lantern would say no more.

….

Earth, Mt. Justice: the team convened. "Well, the good news is, we've stopped three cells of kidnappers. There've been no other instances of such kidnapping; maybe we got them all.

"J'onn tells us to be on the lookout, of course, and take nothing for granted. Ragnar? What happened on Oa?"

"Nothing that relates to the subject." Ever since returning from Oa, Ragnar had been…quiet. Reserved. Even Megan had not been able to draw him out of his shell.

Nightwing gave him a sideways look. "They didn't have to anything to say about Doomsday?"

"Nothing…that would really help. Only that the monster and I seem to share certain genetic similarities. I don't suppose I need to tell you I find that somewhat unsettling."

Nightwing looked at him a little more intently. "Ragnar…I hope you aren't blaming yourself, or your parents, either…for Doomsday's rampages. From what the recording said, they essentially gave their lives in an effort to stop the thing."

"I know, Nightwing. It…I thank you for…your concern." He still refused to meet their gazes.

"You…are sure you have nothing else to say, to add to this?" Silence. "Well, just know one thing: the matter of Doomsday is being handled. I'm sure the Guardians have probably sent out their own people, and those people are probably armed to the teeth, or whatever they have in place thereof, with whatever knowledge, information, that they gleaned from you." He tilted his head. Something was clearly bothering their newest member, but… "You can't blame yourself for this. This all took place long before you came on the scene."

"Yes, Nightwing. I understand that." He still refused to meet their eyes.

"Well, if nobody has anything else to add…I suppose that wraps up this meeting. We'll reconvene at 0600 hours."

The various team members got up, as did Ragnar, turning to go. Megan caught him by the elbow. "Ragnar. We need to talk."

"Of course, Miss Martian. What would you like to talk about?" Standing there in the entrance to the meeting chamber.

"'Miss Martian'? What happened to Megan? I thought we were on a first name basis. Was I wrong?"

"Of course not, Megan. It's just…" He paused, clearly preoccupied with something else. Then, "I am deliberating whether or not I should undergo a gene-scan. I've a hunch—only a hunch, but-that the kidnapping ring we're currently dealing with may be seeking something in my genetic code."

"What? Why?"

"As I said, it is only a hunch. But something tells me it is. Call it 'intuition,' or something."

"Well," she said, her mind distracted, just as he had hoped, "That's easily enough done. C'mon." And she led him down the hallway towards the team's lab.

….

"It's not an exact match, but it's closer than anything we come up with so far." Nightwing chewed on a knuckle, examining the readouts. Ragnar and Megan looked on. "I'd say, if I were the kidnappers, that you're probably what they're seeking. But I can't figure out why."

Ragnar shifted, uneasily. "I am very much afraid I know."

"You do?" Nightwing swiveled around to look at him. Megan looked up surprised. "Well, don't keep us in suspense. Why would they seek out DNA like yours?"

"Consider. This monster, this beast you call Doomsday has evidently traveled across the universe, decimating world after world. This scientist my father spoke of, this Bertron, evidently left no records of his experiments, at least nothing that survived. The only clear information on the monster's DNA is…within me. My father stated I had DNA taken straight from the beast. In a sense, I'm related to it. So, not to sound immodest, they seek my DNA out in order to gather data about the monster. It is a creature of science; any counter to it must also come from science. But obviously they cannot study the monster's genetic make-up directly. But they, whoever 'they' are, can study mine."

Megan was thoughtful. "Sooo….these people, this group, what have you…want to study you to learn more about Doomsday. But why?"

He drew a deep breath. "Two possible reasons: one, they are looking for some weakness in the monster's genetic code, something they can exploit, to stop it.

"Or two…." He trailed off

Dick's eyes widened as he understood. "They're looking to create their own version of Doomsday. A counter-Doomsday. Like a, a genetic arms race."

"Precisely. At least, that seems logical."

…..

The gods and Kilowog's team were busy scouring the star system. "What I can't figure," muttered Kilowog, "Is how it developed the power of flight. It never has before; why should things change now?"

"Unknown," replied Metron. Izaya had paired him with Kilowog, whilst the other Lanterns were paired with one or more of the other gods. "The beast seems to develop whatever gifts it needs in order to overcome any foe. It might be theorized that whatever mechanism is working in it, decided that being able to fly from world to world would be a beneficial adaptation. That is only logical. But I confess to a puzzle: why has the creature only now developed this power? All evidence shows that, in the past, even when dealing with beings able to fly, it did not present with any such attribute."

Kilowog approached several asteroids carefully. LIghtray had been caught totally off-guard by the monster, by the simple expedient of it hiding behind a rock. Kilowog wasn't about to repeat that mistake. "D'you suppose," he asked, while he scanned the area, "that this thing could have, like, an agenda, an actual plan that goes beyond just killing everything it comes across?"

"Again, unknown. I lack the data to even formulate a hypothesis as to any such agenda. It doesn't seem to work towards any goal save destruction for its own sake. Hm." He rubbed his chin. "I wonder…as the monster evolves, as it adapts, so, too, might its goals. It is certainly a matter to take under consideration." Pause. Then, "Though, personally, aside from the imminent destruction of all creation, I cannot imagine a worse state of affairs."

…..

Mt. Justice. Nightwing had uploaded the data he'd gleaned from Ragnar's cell samples. "It looks a whole lot closer to what the kidnappers were looking for. But, from what he said, even the Guardians aren't sure as to what to make of it. I mean, if his parents sought to create a, a counter-Doomsday, they didn't succeed. But the distinct probability that somebody, out there, is looking for a gene-type like he's got, implies that somebody knows what to do with it. Or at least has a theory."

"Indeed," muttered J'onn J'onzz, looking over the data. "As you say, young Ragnar, while extremely adaptive and decidedly healthy, is definitely not another Doomsday. And he knows nothing, himself?"

"No, sir. But…something. Remember that last kidnapping cell we busted? Turns out Tommy Walker was one of the captives. And….he told me something." He went on to relate Tommy's recurring dream, and the imagery in it, and Tommy's fear that somehow Ragnar was in danger. "I don't see how this could be coincidence. It's more than obvious that the wall in question, the one he saw in his dream, is the Source Wall. But how Tommy knew of it, I don't know. It's not common knowledge on Earth. And he seemed almost desperate that Ragnar not go there. He didn't know why."

"Another mystery. I shall inquire, through channels, if the Guardians know anything regarding this matter. We know that the force that powers the various power rings lies beyond that wall, a reservoir of emotional-spectrum light. Or perhaps more than a mere reservoir. But we also know how dangerous it is for any being—mortal or immortal—to attempt the breach that barrier. Your young Mr. Walker had no further information to impart?"

"None. But the simple fact that he had what he had is…disturbing, all by itself."

"Indeed. That is certainly one way of looking at it." He turned and looked off to one side. "We shall continue with our gathering of facts. In the meantime, have you come up with anything regarding Batman's non-appearance during the Blackest Night?" It was not common knowledge, even among the superhero community, that Batman, the Batman, was actually dead. Gotham's underworld would have had a field day.

Nightwing shook his head. "Nothing. But that in itself tells us something. The clues, all of them more overtly available, all point just a little too obviously towards Bruce Wayne being dead. It's like clue-overkill, if you get my meaning."

"Hm. Yes, it would be obvious to anyone that Bruce Wayne is no longer among the living. Or perhaps I should say, it would be obvious to anyone else. I trust you will continue your researches into this matter. It could prove crucial."

"I will, sir. But one thing: if, as we suppose, Bruce did manufacture his own death somehow, do we have the right to, to, well, demolish that illusion he has, evidently, spent so much time and effort on?"

"A point. But we are not working to capture or kill him, Nightwing. On the other hand, these very subtle, hidden clues you keep finding…are most probably not being found only by you. I feel certain that others, with less pleasant goals in mind, are also scanning the globe, looking for him. It may be in everyone's benefit, including Bruce Wayne's, that we find him first. Watchtower out."

To be continued…