Egg Hunt
"I've never seen anything like this," conceded Lucius Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He looked as baffled and disconcerted as Bruce felt. Lucius also looked exhausted, about ten years old than he really was.
They were examining the egg Batman had stolen from Clark Kent's apartment.
Lucius had been studying it for the past two days. The object had captivated his undivided attention and intrigued him so much he hadn't even shaved or bathed. The old man smelled of freshly reapplied deodorant and bad breath masked by coffee. His tie was tossed over the back of the chair, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone and hanging open. He stretched his back and groaned as he sat in the chair. He gestured Bruce over. He adjusted the settings and knobs on the microscope and leaned back. "Take a look. Watch that ink around your eyes."
Bruce, still wearing the Batsuit, but not the cowl, leaned in and studied the surface of the egg, careful not to get ink residue on the eye piece. Under the magnified egg's, shell-like sheen, there were microscopic gray pores evenly spaced along the surface. "What are those?"
Lucius had set up a quick PowerPoint presentation. He tapped a couple of keys on the laptop, stood and dimmed the lights. "A great white shark can detect a single drop of blood in an Olympic-sized pool. In other words, one part per twenty-five million. Pretty darn sensitive, wouldn't you say?" He pressed a key on the laptop. The slide switched and showed a diagram of a shark, showing the cross-section of a nasal passage. "As it swims, water passes through these holes on either side of its snout, called nares, and washes over this organ, which has extensive folding, and therefore increased surface area." He clicked to the next slide. They were photographed images of the egg's interior examined with sonar. It was safer than X-rays, where they didn't know if the radiation would cause problems with the advanced technology inside the space egg. "This egg is mimicking the function of a nare. It can detect blood. Actually, it's calibrated to detect Kryptonian blood. It…tracked Superman, if you will."
Bruce frowned at the egg.
Lucius continued. "This egg has an estimated one million microscopic fibers, which act like the nare organ, but that's not all they do. They behave like a nervous system, a circulatory system, and even an endocrine system, all in one." Each time he clicked the laptop mouse and it switched, highlighting different parts of the egg. "There's just one problem."
Bruce looked at Lucius. "I don't see a brain."
Lucius chuckled. "That's exactly right, Mister Wayne."
"If it doesn't have a brain, how does it function?"
Lucius smiled at the tiny marvel. "Oh, it has a brain all right. We just can't see it."
The eggs had started falling long before Sakura ever found hers.
There was talk of these eggs everywhere. A worldwide phenomenon had begun. And the US government was keeping a very close eye on everything people were saying.
"Okay, so, I'm making this video because—One, I was bored, and two, I found this really freaky-looking thing the other day."
"All right, here we are, here's the thingamabob I found about two days ago. I was just walking my dog, and he was getting ready to take a shit when this thing fell right next to him and actually frightened the shit out of him—"
"I hear this is the only one of these things that landed here, down under. So, let me know what you think, if you've found one. Once again, I'm Nicholas from Sydney Australia, signing off."
"Hello, my name is Sneha, from Hyderabad, India—"
"This is the first video I've ever made, sorry for the sound, but I just found this thing—"
"I found this—"
"…Just the other day, I found something you might find interesting…"
"It's just an egg."
"It's an egg."
"…An egg."
"Time for the grand reveal of suspected alien technology. Yeah. Yup, it's a fucking egg."
There were already others scrambling for these things. Based on a top secret list of private buyers a CIA taskforce had managed to compile, Chinese, Iranians, Russians, and closer to home, none other than Lex Luthor himself, it had become obvious even to the simplest minds that this technology did not originate on earth.
Bruce Wayne was not on this list because, of course, he'd stolen his.
When the Kryptonian terraforming device had been destroyed, labs and government facilities scooped up all the parts in order to study them and learn from the advanced technology. These eggs were no different. And people were offering descriptions, theories, ideas and conspiracies that could explain this hail of eggs. The CIA taskforce compiled everything in a 400-page report. And the report was still growing.
"Uh—it's a bit shiny, like a hummingbird or something, incandescent—iridescent, I think is the word—"
"…I can see markings when I look at it at an angle…"
"…Rather strange, doesn't look like any language I've ever seen on Earth, and I'm a linguistics professor at Oxford. A student wanted me to take a look…"
"…I'm outside, and I think I can see the writing better in the sun..."
"Have no idea what it means, looks like symbols or something. I didn't even know it was there until a few days ago, until I started watching other people's videos—"
"…Don't know who's behind all this…"
"Wonder who's behind it…"
"It's probably some government hoax."
"The Chinese."
"The Russians."
"The Koreans. They probably think we Americans are total idiots."
"The Islamic radicals aren't this creative."
"Worldwide social experiment."
"Maybe, it's got to do with Superman."
"Superman's an alien. Maybe there are others out there. This doesn't look similar to the Kryptonian technology we saw on the news, you know, the Terraformer. It's totally different. Doesn't look as evil. Actually looks pretty cute, like a Tamagotchi. Remember those?"
"I just keep expecting to see Made In China somewhere on here. Haha. Wouldn't it be crazy if aliens were already getting ninety percent of their imports from China?"
"I think it's got something to do with Superman."
"Superman, where is he?"
"He goes missing and these eggs starting turning up?"
"These eggs began falling and then he disappeared. Or was it the other way around?"
"What about the meteor exhibit that was stolen and he couldn't do anything about it?"
"It's all connected."
"Which came first, Superman or the egg?"
"Mister Wayne, if you'll take a look at this screen, here's global map of all the locations where these eggs were discovered, the ones where people have declared to have found one of them. Notice anything strange?"
Bruce nodded. "Major metropolitan areas."
"Yes. Hong Kong, London, Glasgow, Sydney, Mumbai, Los Angeles, Moscow—the list goes on. In all, there are ninety-eight genuine eggs reported, all over the world, including the one you found at Mister Kent's apartment. And with technology being the way it is, with news outlets reporting these eggs all over the world, with people offering millions of dollars for the ownership of one of these eggs, I think it's safe to assume that ninety-eight is quite close to being the total. Based on some of the identifying markings I've been able to notice through the videos and images, I think we're short just two."
"Why would someone keep it a secret?"
"I don't know."
It was going to be a long night.
The crowd sat restlessly in the muggy heat along the shaded bleachers in NYC's Central Park. It was almost like it was raining under the performance tent. Shirts and shorts were soaked with moisture from the sheer humidity.
But the show must always go on. Barda Free wasn't even out under the spotlights and sweat already dotted her skin, making her blue and gold skirted bikini stick like a second layer of suffocating skin. She glanced over at her partner, Shilo, standing next to her behind the curtain. He was dressed in the Mr. Miracle costume, but only out of necessity. Her husband, Scott Free, had been missing for almost two weeks. Shilo was Scott's understudy, his student. No one in the audience could have ever known they weren't going to witness the true Mr. Miracle. Shilo was a similar body-type, build, height, and even his escapist skills were phenomenal. The only difference was that instead of Scott's pale blue, dazzling eyes peering out at her from behind eye-black, it was Shilo's chocolate-brown ones.
"Stop worrying about Scott," Shilo said from under the mask.
"I can't."
"Ladies and gentleman, it is my esteemed pleasure to present to you now, the strongest woman to ever walk this earth. She holds the record of second place in the men's weight lifting category of 1023 pounds. Folks, that comes out to almost half a ton! She's big, she's bad, she's drop-dead gorgeous at seven feet tall, 201 pounds, and here she is, the Giantess and Strong Woman of Greenwich Village, Biiiiig Bardaaaaaaa!"
Barda forced a big grin that made her cheeks ache and swept into view when the curtains parted. Her oiled muscles gleamed and squirmed under the spotlights; glittering make-up sparkled like diamond dust on her cheeks and eyelids. She flexed for the cheering crowd, showing off every lean, striated muscle writhing under her skin. She waved to an enormous contraption made of black-painted steel and two assistants entered the arena. They were carrying weights between them, straining visibly.
An assistant appeared, a perky, petite young blonde in a sparkling blue and gold outfit that matched Barda's.
Barda lifted the pretty girl by the underarms, then balanced her feet in her hands like she weighed no more than a twig. The girl set some pins into the device while the male assistants set up the weights.
"As you can see the white numbers on the weights, folks, this all adds up to a solid five-hundred pounds! Am I right fellas?" The announcer asked the men. They mimed wiping sweat from their brows and flashed thumbs up to the audience.
Barda pulled on the handle with one finger. Five hundred pounds slid weightlessly upward. Barda yawned for the audience. Lowered the weight and let it drop the last two inches. It made the ground quake. The audience roared.
The two males reappeared, carrying another five-hundred pounds.
"More weight?" The announcer asked the audience.
They cheered, "Yeah!"
They loaded it up, which Barda lifted again with ease, this time with both hands.
"More weight?" The announcer egged the crowd on.
The audience cheered.
Barda made a bring-it-on with her left hand.
This time four guys came out from behind the curtain, carrying an additional thousand pounds.
"Now, make no mistake, folks, Barda is going to lift almost one metric ton. Hmm, but let's make things a little more interesting, shall we?" The announcer mused. "Please welcome the splendid, talented, brilliant Mister Miracle once again, folks!"
Shilo came into view and the audience cheered. He flourished for the audience. Then he showed two items—a hook and a turning tool. He pulled up his sleeves to show he had nothing else, pulled them back down.
"How 'bout those gloves, Mister?" The announcer said in teasing voice.
Shilo mimed impatience, folding his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. He put the tools in his mouth. Then he shrugged, pulled his gloves off and tossed them on the ground. He wiggled his fingers with exaggerated movements to show he wasn't hiding any keys. The four assistants dug into a bin kept beside the weight lifting machine and began by cramming Shilo into a straitjacket. Then, for good measure, they slapped chains on Shilo's torso and legs, and manacles on his ankles, then attached the soles of his feet to a glass panel affixed with a metal bar.
There was a chain connected to the glass, which was part of a pulley system.
Barda picked up chalk dust from a bowl on the ground, rubbed her hands together, patted them, building a cloud of dust, and reached down for the chain and pulled. Shilo was lifted off the ground by his feet. He glanced at Barda as he went past her. She patted the top of head with her hand. "Good luck," she whispered.
"You too."
Barda waited while the assistants moved like clockwork, bringing over a full-to-the-brim glass tank in position under Shilo. She lowered him into it. Displacement splashed her with water. Lights turned on inside the tank, illuminating Shilo. He began his escape immediately. The assistants wheeled the tank to the two-thousand pound weight, which was ready to be lifted.
Barda chalked her hands again, lifted up the handle, gave a groan of effort and pulled. Her arms trembled just once, but she lifted two-thousand pounds off the ground high enough for the water tank to slide under it, and about three feet for the glass lid to clear when Shilo escaped.
"Now Barda can hold the weight for only a short period of time before her arms give out. Mister Miracle has an additional one minute and forty-five seconds to get out of the straitjacket, six padlocks and the glass tank before Barda can't hold it anymore, and he's crushed by two-thousand pounds. That is if he doesn't drown first."
A clock was already ticking, showing just one minute and 24 seconds left.
Barda held tight and strong.
Shilo was wriggling, jerking free of the straitjacket, taking extra long just to freak the audience out. It took him more than half the time to get out of the jacket, which left only about forty seconds to pick the locks and get out.
Barda's arm quivered for a second. She watched as Shilo picked lock after lock. Each one sank heavily to the tank floor.
She let the weights lower a tiny bit. The audience gasped. Some screamed.
Eighteen seconds left. She let the weight lower a bit more and gave a groan that echoed.
Ten seconds. Shilo was working on his ankles.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
The audience started counting.
"Six."
"Five."
"Four!"
Then the chain suddenly broke.
Barda flew backwards, crashing into the ground. The weight fell at the same time, crushing the glass into powder, blasting icy cold water in all directions. The last thing she saw was Shilo freeze, hands going up the protect himself.
The audience screamed and were on their feet.
Assistants started running.
Barda leapt to her feet and yanked on the chain.
People looked away, unable to behold the horror of a crushed man.
But he was not there.
The spotlights vanished and focused on a platform high above the ground.
The audience looked up and a roaring cheer went through the crowd.
Mister Miracle kissed his lock picks and tossed them in an arc over the platform. He was still dripping wet.
Shilo knocked on Barda's door.
"Come in," she said, her voice sounding anxious and distracted.
Shilo stuck his wet head inside. He'd changed his clothes, but his long hair would take some time to dry off. "Good show tonight."
"Cutting it a little close, don't you think?" She asked, unamused. "Do you want to get squashed like a ripe melon?"
Shilo shrugged. "I've never tried it. Must be fun." Then his cellphone jingled in his pocket. He pulled it out and began texting. He didn't look up when he said, "Why haven't you changed? I thought the gang was going out to dinner. Everyone's waiting for us."
Barda shook her head and studied something in her hand.
Shilo looked up when she didn't say anything and saw that she was holding a white object in her hand. "You gotta be kidding me! Not that damn egg again!"
"Scott left because of this!"
"He'll be fine. Scott can take care of himself. If anyone should know that, it's you." Shilo went back to texting.
"I'm worried that he didn't tell me where he was going. He knew I'd try to stop him. Or try to go with him."
"Look, just give the guy some room. You're way too much of a control freak." He held up his phone. "Like my girlfriend."
Barda gave him a threatening look. "Care to run that by me again?"
Shilo gave a weak laugh. "No."
"That's what I—Oh!" Barda jumped to her feet when the egg elevated out of her hand.
Shilo's jaw dropped open.
The room began to swirl with a weak, tornado-like breeze. Papers flew up into the air, make up brushes and applicators rolled or flew off the table. Barda stepped back. Shilo opened the door. Grabbed Barda's arm. "Let's get the hell out of here."
She yanked her arm away. "No."
There was a sucking, hissing noise and a portal opened up on one side of the egg. It was shaped like a cat's iris, illuminated with jagged blue and green light.
Barda looked into the portal and saw a bedroom, the silhouette of a girl sitting on the bed. "Hey!" She shouted over the noise, which now sounded like an engine.
The girl didn't move, didn't respond. But the egg began to shift in space. It pulled itself through the portal and was suddenly on the other side. The portal began to close.
Barda snatched Shilo's cell phone from his hand and tossed it into the portal just before it closed.
"Barda! What the hell! What am I going to tell Fiona?"
"Tell your girlfriend she's too much of a control freak."
"You lost my damn phone."
Barda picked up her horned helmet and Mega Rod. "Yeah, so I could find it again."
Shilo gave a sigh. "So does this mean we're not going to dinner?"
Lucius jumped out of the chair with much more agility than he looked capable of.
Batman put himself in between the Lucius and the open portal. The egg hovered there, then tilted and charged forward through the opened. Inside there was a Japanese girl sitting on the bed, quiet and still.
The portal began to close and Batman took a tracking device from his belt, activated it and flung it into the portal before it sealed shut with a pulse. "Where is it, Lucius?" Batman asked as he pulled on his cowl.
Lucius was already checking the computer. "Metropolis Children's Hospital. Uh…Mister Wayne? You might want to take a look at this."
Batman looked at Lucius. Then followed his gaze out of the window.
Moving closer, he saw a bright green spotlight projected into the sky. It was eerily reminiscent of the Liaoning meteorite. The spotlight swayed slightly, as if in a breeze, showing the unmistakable symbol of the bat against the rain clouds. The weird thing was that the shaft of light appeared to come out of nowhere. It was bright green, casting over the buildings and trees surrounding it. But it was not actually a spotlight. It was something else entirely.
"I thought they destroyed the Bat Signal," Lucius said after several moments.
"They did."
