Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans, the Justice League or any associated Characters.
...it has been a long while since I updated, and I am sorry.
The truth is you don't really care why I didn't post, but here is what you have all asked for... Enjoy.
PART III
~)0(~
The attack, when it came, was as swift and unexpected as it was efficient… and brutal.
Without any warning whatsoever, the world was filled with a blinding, burning crimson light that burned away at both body and vision until nothing remained but the welcoming darkness. Not even Green Lantern, whose powers reacted at the speed of thought, was able to throw up even a preliminary shield before the trio of heroes were overrun…
Too Late, he mused as the world fell away and his mouth formed some strong curse words he'd learned in his military days. It was always just too late to do anything…
~)0(~
"You didn't have to do that!"
The words echoed about the small metal room as the Guardian of Oa raged; his glowing green eyes never leaving Superman's impassive face. The words seemed to bounce off of the broad S-symbol like bullets, though he could see that in some small way, he was getting to the Kryptonian; given the way the ocean-blue eyes narrowed, and Superman drew up his arms to cross them over his broad chest. To anyone else it would seem to be an impassive move, but to the other members of the Justice League, it was plain to see that Kal-El had finally been pushed far enough that he was now on the defensive.
To be fair, Superman looked a little worse for wear… pale, a series of bruises lined the strong jaw and the way the alien moved showed he was in pain; though who, or what had done it to him, remained unknown. Not that any of the others outside of Wonder Woman seemed to care…
John wasn't about to let this go, though; he'd only just awoken moments before and spent all of them since in a heated one-sided argument with an unresponsive Kryptonian. "You have a whole ten seconds to explain your thinking on attacking us like that, or I'm going to throw you out an airlock!" His ring and eyes sparked a bright, menacing green.
With effort, Superman seemed to restrain whatever the first words to come to mind were, and tried a more placating –though authoritative- tone. "John, they were unstable… you saw how they reacted to our attempt to rescue them! We just need to get Flash and Nightwing back to Earth, to both friends and family, …to the Titans. This is a temporary phrase in the re-adjustment period…" Superman began to say, but was cut off by John's harsh laughter.
"Are you kidding me? You mean, you didn't even let them explain…? J'onn, trust me… read their minds. They told me if anything like this happened, you could tell The Man of Stupidity, over there, why they fought so hard."
Martian Manhunter's expression flickered between surprise, internal deliberation and then determination; in the silence he questioned whether this would breach telepathic etiquette to intrude in their minds, even if they had asked for it. What if they had rescinded this permission and were unable to voice this due to their current unconscious states?
Eventually, J'onn conceded that it was both plausible and acceptable, after all… he could always ask them before he entered. To the others, he nodded and moved to stand between the two bio-beds containing the unconscious and restrained –by Superman's orders- Nightwing and Flash. His hands hovered just over the forehead of each hero…
J'onn closed his glowing red eyes and reached out, silently asking permission to be certain that this was in accordance to their wishes… and smiled gently as they responded by allowing him access to their memories almost immediately.
Long moments dragged by in silence, so profound it appeared to make both the Man of Steel and Wonder Woman incredibly uncomfortable; Batman, however, appeared incredibly smug as he watched the emotions flicker across Manhunter's face… That is, in-between the death-glare he was throwing at the Kryptonian.
The only member of the League not currently present was Shayera. The Thanagarian had taken over the role of piloting the Javelin back to Earth from the Auto-pilot, given that Green Lantern had been unconscious for quite a significant period of time; a skilled set of hands was required to navigate through this space sector. Gordanian fleets had been mobilised all over the quadrant.
The room burst into activity all of a sudden as J'onn gasped loudly, taking a jerky step away from the beds with his head in his hands; pained expression marring the normally passive green face.
"My friends, I believe we have made a grievous error in our judgement. They have been attempting to tell us of one very important fact we missed, regarding their lives on Tamaran… It seems they were consort to Blackfire, chosen above all others to be bound with her before their War Goddess, X'hal and such an action can never be undone. Nor can it be done without the wholehearted consent of all parties…"
"So?" interjected Wonder Woman, "An unusual emotional attachment for captors is a common sign of this Stockholm Syndrome you have spoken of… There will surely be some way to break this bond; I shall speak with the Goddesses when I return to Themyscira."
"If it were that simple, I should say it would work… but the bond can only be broken if there has not been-… if they have not joined." Replied J'onn, gravely, "But we have overlooked one important factor in all this, something we would never have thought of beforehand…"
"Well, are you going to tell us or make us play that ridiculous human game, 'Twenty-Questions'?" Shayera snapped, hefting her mace threateningly as she burst through the doors; her casually dismissive wave stated the ship was now on auto-pilot once again.
Glowing red alien eyes glared right into Superman's as the Martian answered gravely, "They refused to leave Tamaran for one very important reason… they have… Superman, there are children involved."
And then there was silence, only occasionally broken by Superman's screams…
~)0(~
Weeping.
Someone was… crying? He struggled through the fuzzy darkness that seemed to enclose on all sides and into an agonised form of awareness. His lips parted but no sound issued forth, something pressed into his back, it was designed to be soft but every inch of it made his bruises ache like liquid fire.
"Oh, you're awake!" exclaimed a joyous voice, though seemingly tinged with an undertone of sadness, from close to his right arm. Wriggling slightly, he realised that his body was apparently restrained, judging from the fact that he couldn't move it at all. There was shuffling around him and he sensed the female with the familiar voice moving to closer by his face; try as he might, his eyes felt like lead and refused to open the first few attempts he made to open them. Years training with the Batman strengthened your other senses as well as your mind and body, so it took only a few seconds to re-orient himself before the former-Robin came to realise there were other people in the room.
Gentle female hands took hold of some form of restraint over his right wrist, there was a groaning noise and it gave way almost immediately; someone sighed in exasperation while another, deeper voice laughed. "You know I was just about to release that, right?" asked the original speaker, the familiarity of the voice scraping along his fuzzy form of consciousness like fingernails down a chalkboard. Few thinks irked a member of the Batclan more than not knowing something that seemed straightforward…
"It does not matter, Starfire, you were merely worried… now please release the restraints from his body, I am sure they are hurting him." Stated a soft male voice, it sounded like warm liquid, honestly and provided a second puzzle for him to figure out; the speaker came up along his left-hand side and fiddled with the restraint on his left arm and wrist until the bracket fell right off the table with a clang.
"Oh, you were talking about being patient?" interjected a third, definitely male voice, gruff with amusement. Someone's nails were tapping at what sounded like a keyboard or perhaps, a touch-screen console, and instantly a pneumatic hissing sound filled the air; suddenly the constrictive embrace of metal was released from about his neck, chest, waist and knees.
The first female voice called out, "Wait, Roy don't even think about it-… NO!", but it was too late; evident in the way a pair of unknown objects made twin impacts on the remaining restraints on his ankles with tiny metallic tings. For a split-second, all was silent…
Like a series of muffled, angry coughs, several subdued explosions went off in quick succession; shattered metal broke apart and fell to the floor in a small shower of sparks and shards. Ironically, the whole process –despite the admonishments of the others in the room at the person holding the detonator of the explosives- actually had little repercussions to him; the explosions went largely unnoticed and did not send the expected shockwave up his body. More like a stiff gust of wind…
His body twitched involuntarily, now that it was free of the restraints; the question batting about his brain was exactly how long he'd been asleep… forced into remaining immobile by the metallic bands… and why?
"Come on Dick, it's alright… open your eyes… you're safe…" coaxed the original speaker; she was resting a hand on his shoulder very gingerly as if uncertain how he'd react. In all honesty, the acrobat wanted very much to open his eyes, but the ache of his body was returning in full force… and the darkness was calling so invitingly, promising rest, comfort, safety. The hand moved upwards slowly, very carefully, to touch his cheek… it was an overly-familiar gesture, to be certain, but that didn't mean it did not put him on full alert.
Fighting down the sudden overwhelming urge to bat the hand away as adrenaline surged upwards and through his veins, preparing for fight or flight, Nightwing opened his eyes quickly. In a singular motion, he had jerked away from the hand touching him and raised his own suddenly-free-of-restraints-and-tingling arm to shield his burning eyes from the strangely-brilliant fluorescent lightbulb hanging innocuously above the bed.
The last thing his memory supplied was a blinding red light engulfing everyone and everything around him… oh, and pain; but it had swiftly drawn into darkness, though the memory of Wally's scream and John's frantic curses were emboldened in his mind. "Who-…?" he croaked tiredly, looking about.
Ignoring the dark-haired woman by his side –obviously the owner of the hand, given the hurt expression she wore- his eyes roved about the small room, taking in the two figures by the foot of the bed; a red-headed man with a passion for the colour red who was wearing a strange smirk and an other-worldly looking male, with piercing violet eyes that glowed. The latter was still admonishing the first over the explosive items he had used earlier…
Suddenly, his eyes alighted on someone new and yet, achingly familiar… but, wait-… no… it couldn't be, not here. Not if this was where he believed himself to be…
By the side of the bed, a familiarly golden-skinned female moved closer to grasp his closest hand, immediately crushing all hopes she might be the longed-for, Kormand'r, as she spoke in a voice far too soft for Blackfire. "R'chard?" she obviously missed the involuntary flinch at her use of Kormand'r's Tamaranian petname for him, he looked back at her impassively.
"It is I, Koriand'r… Starfire, remember?" she continued on, large green eyes open and expressive, clearly worried after his welfare. Thoughts were swirling about in his mind, memories were fuzzy right now… probably from the ass-kicking they'd taken on the Javelin, or perhaps it was the gnawing hunger churning within; but nothing seemed to be forming with any great clarity.
"Donna, Garth, Roy, the other Titans and I… we were so worried about you. When you both arrived, when we found out what had happened on the Javelin, what Batman did to-… let us not speak of it. You were both so injured… there was a time when we thought you may die on us and the thought still hurts my heart to think of it. Especially since Wallace is not faring so well…" Starfire glanced over her shoulder towards a sickly-yellow curtain, with a worried expression.
Memory sparked, fragments coalescing to piece together something important… no, someone… a flash of red hair-… oh, Wally. Nightwing sat up, not quite as quickly as he would have liked… but given that his entire body felt like a large healing bruise… it was good enough for now. One hand immediately went to his face borne out of an instinctual need to check for his mask; the automatic response still active after all this time. Logic told him that had he been wearing his mask, then it would have filtered the light to an appropriate level earlier…
Fabric moved against the skin of his legs and he looked down, delighting in the discovery that he still remained clothed in his favourite blue outfit from Tamaran; though a shade cleaner than it had been aboard the Javelin. Someone had washed it, recently too if the flowery scent of laundry detergent was anything to go by…
"I took the liberty of washing your clothing, it's…very flattering, bythe way." Said the other female in the room, the one who could only be Donna; her face was as familiar as his own reflection, and he questioned how he had ever forgotten. She was still standing by his head, hovering like she wanted to reach out and hug him, but was restraining herself because of his earlier rejection.
He frowned, finding it strange that he had to think for a second to find the words in English, before saying, "Thank you, Donna…". Her sky-blue eyes went wide and she covered her mouth as it fell open in surprise, again she visibly restrained herself; but he was glad that the words had soothed the earlier anguish of his blatant rejection.
"Huh, that's all you're gonna say then?" came the gruff voice from the bottom of the bio-bed; unmistakeably belonging to the red-headed man in the blindingly red suit. A flash of memory resurged at the sight of the colour…
…Wally calling out… the S-symbol… Batman…Green Lantern trying to make a shield… Superman screaming…red light… pain… nothing…
He put a hand to his head as the memory played out, grimacing, but trying to concentrate on the one detail that made no sense… Why was Superman screaming…?
"Hey, you okay there, Shortpants…?" the red-head asked, crossed arms unfolding as he leaned forwards over the end of the bed in concern, his expression from behind the mask seemed worried but also guarded. In fact, he flickered a glance about, they ALL appeared as if treading on eggshells… like everyone had decided before his return to consciousness that he would break,and were being careful not to find themselves the cause of this anticipated emotional-distress.
He waved his hand dismissively, failing to find a verbal response capable of forcing it's way past the dry burn in his throat; Roy settled back into his original stance, quiet again. One could say he was being cold and unemotional, but anyone who truly knew him understood that with so many conflicting emotions involved in this meeting, Roy was simply unsure what to feel, and so, retained the impression of nonchalance. Probably more than a little stung over the casual dismissal too, but far too proud to show it.
Without a word, Donna moved away and Kori took her place, offering a tall glass filled with opaque liquid and he sipped the water gratefully, staving off the desire to gulp it down because he knew from experience it would only make him ill. The empty glass was taken away before he could even verbalise the need for its removal…
He grew somber, looking at the three standing by the foot of his bed as Kori walked across the room to return the glass to a bench furnished with a small cupboard and sink arrangement.
"Where's Wally?" he half-demanded, half mentally giggled at his choice of phrasing but retained a outwardly serious expression. There were looks over his head that did not bode well… his heart pounded slightly faster in fear of what he might be told about the speedster, but the as-yet-silent dark-haired male to the foot of his bed turned to the right and reached for the curtain he had noticed earlier. The man pulled at the sickly-yellow fabric hanging from a circular track attached to the roof, dividing the room; with a grating 'schink' another bed was revealed, surrounded by others that were as familiar as they were not. This didn't feel like a hospital…
"You're in the Tower, in case you were wondering…" Roy interjected into his thoughts. "The League –well, Wonder Woman at least- wanted to keep you on the Watchtower, but considering what Batman did to Superman for attacking you… I didn't think you wanted to wake up in all that. So Donna and Kori went up and let their fists do the talking. Hell, even Bats and Hawkgirl made it clear you and Speedfreak were to go to either the Cave, or the Tower, no other options available."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, it wouldn't surprise him if the man he'd always known as 'Uncle Clark' had met with an unfortunate… accident, at the Batman's hand. The tall dark-haired male remained silent as he moved closer to the bed and slowly came towards him; infuriating as it was, all he could seem to remember about this teammate was that his name was Garth. Huh, perhaps he'd been hit harder than he thought… not to mention oxygen deprivation of being super-strangled…
Still the one named Garth did not speak, but instead moved away from the curtain to approach the bed; slowly and warily, as if he expected Dick to react violently or run if he made too sudden a movement, the same cautious way one would approach an injured animal. Garth raised a hand as he drew closer to the injured vigilante, each movement utterly methodical and calm; and yet, Dick immediately felt a deep sense of mistrust that surprised even himself.
Then again, in the last twenty-four hours or so… -actually, how long HAD it been? No matter… but still, the staggering amount of betrayals from people he'd-… they'd trusted implicitly for the majority of their lives, had begun to stack up. It was only logical to have misgivings… even towards half-remembered teammates…
As he could not fathom the exact reason why the other was approaching him right now, natural-borne instincts thrummed to life without thought and just the tiniest bit of fear coursing its way up his spine; and he shied away from the contact, much to the dismay of the others watching on.
"Please, I will not hurt you…" the male begged, glowing indigo eyes pleading and mesmerising all in one long glance; he felt completely unable to look away, like a deer in headlights as the other reached out and made contact. He felt the hand, like water, slide down his shoulder to rest upon tender flesh, dancing over the bruises with practiced gentleness…
"It is as I feared, your body refuses to heal itself, but grows steadily worse. Sadly, this is also the case for Wally… though we cannot seem to determine a reason why. It appears that the Batman's theory seems the only logical conclusion, but I will tell you more on that later… it might be overmuch for you to process right now. I am glad you have returned to us, Richard, I have missed you." The -Atlantean, right?- smiled gently, practically exuding positive, calming vibes. Vague memories of them all floated to the surface of his very tired mind, from so long ago it felt as if he were viewing an old film from his childhood.
Resentment flared deep within him at the Atlantean's phrasing of his welcome. "Don't you mean 'been returned to' you? Did Superman tell you what he did to us? First they attacked us on Tamaran without provocation, and almost immediately after that, he and Wonder Woman nearly killed us when we tried to reason out our situation in the Javelin Infirmary. Not to mention whatever he did after that, I vaguely remember red light… but that's about it..." he omitted the other parts of that particular memory. Another thought struck him though a the last thing he remembered… Superman screaming. "Tell me, what did my father do to him…?" he asked, curious.
He missed the way that the others shifted uncomfortably and glanced to one another, like the guiltiest game of pass the parcel you had ever seen. Donna cleared her throat, "Oh, um… we don't actually know what happened…" the rest of her sentence was drowned out as his attention flagged, probably due to his low glucose levels.
Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the bustling movements across the room, past the now drawn-back curtains of sickly yellow, to the other half of the room that housed an almost identical set up to the half he was in. The only thing differing were the people milling about, and the person on the bed… also the mess, but then again, there could be a pile of mess under his bed as well… he just hadn't checked yet.
A darkly-robed teen was hovering near the head of the bed, hands resting lightly on the sleeping Wally's shoulders while a green-skinned boy –who flickered between human form and various assorted fluffy animals with large, dewy eyes- and a partially-robotic man picked up the mess about the base of the bed, grumbling and joking in quietened voices.
The speedster was sleeping now, but appeared to have woken at least once…
It took a moment of scrutiny, but eventually his mind realised that the 'pile of mess' was actually as a pile of fast-food wrappers and empty drink containers hastily stashed just about everywhere, most noticeably protruding from under the bed.
In another time, he would have snorted into a hand, nudged Roy and the pair of mischevious deviants would then come up with some underhanded plan to out-prank the one person who had successfully pulled the 'hand in warm water' trick on the both of them. Right now, though, he would happily strangle at least the nearest person for some answers.
If they were in Titan's Tower, how long had it been? What happened on the Javelin? What on Tamaran did Batman do to Superman and please, for the love of X'hal, let it have been painful…
~)0(~
"So, Katherine, did you hear what went down on one of the Javelins the other day?" whispered one of the console techs to his sister, a med intern, over lunch. She nodded, but remained quiet… Today's Special was either some form of alien sushi drenched in Wasabi, or a delicious watermelon-flavoured dessert that looked like jello. The Special always started with a 'w' on 'Watchtower Wednesday'…
James tried again, glancing at the clock and realising he only had another ten minutes until he went back on shift, and she would be being transported home with the rest of the med-team from her shift. They'd put in extra-long hours, considering…
"It doesn't look good," she offered in a quiet voice; and they left it at that, eating in silence until the shift alarm went off.
~)0(~
"Heck, even I know not to cross Bats… whatever the big guy did, I hope it was worth it…" Booster Gold said, leaning into Zatana and Dr Fate; all three were huddled at the opposite end of the Watchtower Infirmary, having come back from a supposedly 'straightforward' mission in Tokyo with injuries. Damn firebreathing ninjas… like something out of a bad B-Grade movie.
The trio had made a conscientious decision to ever speak about that mission to anyone else ever again…
Although they'd happily break that newly-enforced rule in order to refrain from doing the one other thing they –as a group- had decided against doing; to not stare at the giant bio-dome down the other end of the Infirmary. The half-dozen machines attached to it beeped, whirred and clicked in time. Tubes of different coloured liquids all surged and gushed with wet sounds, snaking in and out of the dome which held the off-colour and slowly-dying Superman. It was hard to believe this could happen, but with Bats… well, let's just say it wasn't entirely unexpected…
"You bet your ass he has a way to take down any one of us if we go rogue or hurt one of his precious 'Birds'… if he can take down Superman, what chance do the rest of us stand?" the futuristic hero said again, all too aware he was –at current- the biggest joke and liability of the League. His pride had been slightly more damaged than his body was now when he realised this…
A pair of blonde medi-techs came over, each holding different coloured clipboards and frowning at them… "As far as we can tell, there is no further damage to your shoulder, Booster Gold… and Zatana, the worst of it is some deep bruising to your back, try not to aggravate it in the next few days. Dr Fate, as far as we can tell, you don't have a concussion…any longer." Said the man, his nameplate read 'Dr L. Franks'.
"In short," beamed the female doctor, one Dr Jayne Frazer, if her own nametag was to be believed "you can all go now, and don't-… I mean, try not to do anything too stupid in the next few days…" A pointed glance to Booster Gold…he grinned stupidly and replied, "Fair Point…"
They filed out of the Infirmary, trying not to notice the way everyone within sprang into action when one of the machines began a frantically sped-up rhythm of beeps, lights flashing everywhere and doctors appearing seemingly out of the walls, yelling all sorts of medical jargon to each other.
On that day, all three swore never to cross the Bat…
~)0(~
"My'hek, veta'l Kovak She'mahk, X'hal!"
The cry rang out as a vase crashed into an opposing wall; Gordanian servants scurried out of the way with arms raised over their heads, cowering like the cold-blooded lizard-things they were.
An animalistic howl of pure rage and loss echoed through the palace corridors, trapping itself in the different rooms… Curling through gardens and carrying right through the sadly-empty chambers she had shared with them in times so recent it ached; past their empty beds and the vacant balconies… and into the Nursery.
Twin wails rose up in the wake of the dying howl, already nannies were scurrying to attend to the twins, L'orhen and Tayl'h; the distinctive singing voice of her eldest and only son, M'nder, could be heard soothing them. That meant Kora'h was most likely awake as well, but strangely -unlike her father-, she preferred to stay silent when startled…
It was almost as if… as if the wonderous child had already processed the fear, cried and soothed herself before her mother's anguished howl had even stopped. Which, considering her father's powers, was a distinct possibility…
Wally would be proud, she thought to herself. If only he were here… Why do I ache so much when we are apart? When I first took them, I never thought I would…
The word 'Love' danced at the edge of her thoughts, on the tip of her tongue, but it did not dare show itself to her… Yes, she had said the word many times to them, at the temple of X'hal where they were bound, in the throes of passion, and occasionally when they spent time together it would slip out in a sentence that praised their children. A strange kind of relationship, yes, but it was due in part to the gnawing fear in her stomach that they did not truly love her… that their actions and declarations were simply a way of stalling until they were freed.
Then again, she mused, they had had ample opportunity in the past to escape. The Titans and her thrice-cursed sister had been closest to 'liberating' her bonded pair, and would have succeeded had the two remarkable specimens of their race not hesitated for several moments too long, unconsciously torn between their old lives… and the ones they lead now. Kormand'r snarled at the memories that surfaced as she thought of all the insane, half-witted and surprisingly unsuccessful attempts made to steal them away from her in previous years. Even her own people, the people of Tamaran, had made several attempts to 'save' the pair of 'poor aliens stranded on an alien world and far from home'.
In the first few years, those she ruled with an iron grasp had tried to assuage her rightful rule by attempting to set free her 'captives'; many of the rebellious factions had thought they were on missions of mercy… when in fact freeing them would have only been a temporary measure. Neither her people, nor her bonded had any way to leave the planet; all technology that was non-essential or pertained to space-travel had been made illegal and confiscated in the name of Blackfire. Only her Gordanian military forces had control of spaceflight and weapons technology; Tamaranians were a warlike race only when necessary, but it did not help to be cautious when you had taken their world by force and anointed yourself a despot.
She had always reasoned out to the would-be rebel rescuers, that since they cannot even leave this world and return her bonded to their own planet… Why not let them stay with her, in luxury unparalleled, rather than some dank, dark underground cavern their faction was conceited enough to call a 'secret headquarters'?
Her golden fists curled tightly and cracked harshly as a particular memory, long buried, re-surfaced without warning. One fanatical faction of extremists vehemently opposed to her rule had, just the once, succeeded in stealing away her precious partners in the third year of their living on Tamaran… but only due to the fact that neither R'chard or W'llace had been conscious enough at the time to protest the 'rescue'. Apparently the consent of the to-be-liberated was not necessary when you are delusional would-be heroes…
The damnable kel'tekshas had not even thought to ask the humans before they ambushed them in their beds with that X'hal-cursed tekka-root potion of theirs. If there was a period of time in her life that High Empress Kormand'r would have preferred to erase from her memory completely, it had been the brief few days that her bonded had been taken from her side and forced into dependency on their captors, thanks to the debilitating effects of the alien root on their human nervous systems.
Even after R'chard and W'llace had been retrieved from the admittedly well-hidden group's base located inside one of the larger, more opulent and seemingly innocuous homes in the main city, it had taken months for the after-effects and lingering withdrawal symptoms to wear off. Humans having no genetic resistance to the natural Tamaranian-grown opiate; the recovery had not been pretty…
It had hurt Kormand'r to watch her bonded go through such torment, born from the smallest of inhalations from a scrap of cloth placed over their mouth for no more than seconds. Her anger was spent upon their captors; the punishment dealt out had been both swift, brutal and righteous… to her mind at least, she had never actually mentioned it to either of her bonded. They might not see it in the same light…
It had been a harrowing time, both the capture, retrieval and the months that followed; and just like now, the pair were forcibly coerced into leaving her side. The similarities of then and now were not lost on the Empress of Tamaran.
Of course, back then it was a simple matter of having her Gordanian Army search through the nearby cities and outlying towns to find them again, not to mention fitting each with a discrete alarm pendant; but this time… this time would be a completely different matter. Such an incursion, in her own home no less by that despicable Justice League of Earth's…
The second the shrill klaxxon's of R'chard's alarm pendant had rung through the palace, her heart had practically fallen out of her chest… no matter how quickly her forces had marshalled and tailed their leader to their room, it had been too late. All she could do was howl in rage as they were carried off in the arms of the one who presumably had been responsible for the flecks of blood all over the balcony, but most noticeably on the broken bench to the side.
This… Superman had dared to hurt those she cared about, the fathers of her children… Unacceptable. Curbing the furious desire burning within her to simply take off after the man and fight for them with her bare hands, all she could do was let her anguish out in one long, loud scream… a primal cry for vengeance from deep within. If only she was not-…
No, she could never wish that. Her own life would not be the only one at stake in a battle, and she could not risk any of them; if that blasted alien protector of the Earth was willing to hurt her beloved R'chard and W'llace to 'help' them, then who knows what he would do to her… or even to them should it look like he was failing his objective?
Tears of helpless rage burned up in her glowing purple eyes before they could fall; Blackfire cried for no one… and if she did, there should not be any evidence to suggest the momentary lapse of emotional judgement had ever occurred at all.
A determined rapping at the door dragged her from the darker thoughts swirling about in her mind and prompted her immediate attention. "COME!" she roared like the fiercest lion, straightening to her full height and allowing the deep violet cloak draped about her strong golden shoulders to flutter in the breeze for dramatic effect. A daunting reputation was easily maintained, if all you needed to command respect from your troops and advisors was a good outfit… and a strong breeze to blow your cape about never hurt anyone's reputation…
Well, that is to say… that was how Wally had once put it after imbibing the delicious 'purple liquid' for the very first time. Also coinciding with the first time anyone had seen someone run the circumference of Tamaran whilst naked, at superspeed; simultaneously discovering what the human tradition of 'drunken karaoke' was –and what a lovely voice R'chard had. She teased him mercilessly about it when they were alone; who knew Bats could blush…?
Of course, M'nder may or may not have been conceived around the same time… Her grin widened momentarily, because she was never going to tell either of them that. Let them wonder…
The large doors swung open tentatively to reveal several of the smarter Gordanians and those of her own people who were openly and fiercely loyal to Blackfire. They were the Elite, her advisors and those who would die for her without pause for their own lives… for this they were rewarded and raised above all others; kept in whatever manner of comforts they wished. It paid to concede to Kormand'r's wishes…
Amongst them, most surprisingly to their dear sister Koriand'r -on her final visit to their planet before her forced abdication and subsequent exile- was the identity of her fiercest supporter… their brother, Prince Ryand'r.
It had taken a full year within the Palace dungeons, but slowly, her dear brother had come to understand why it was she had done this… allied with the enemy and overthrown their parents. Had finally seen how Kormand'r had brought her own version of peace to Tamaran without unnecessary bloodshed. Those had been points in her favour, but truth be told… it was his desire to be involved in the lives of his sister and her bonded that truly clinched his loyalty. He had always been one for family, and now with their parents dead and dear sweet Koriand'r exiled from her own world… Ryand'r had simply made the logical assumption that there was no need to be alone and in misery when his eldest sister was holding open arms of acceptance, in his direction. He had fallen right into her deadly embrace without hesitation.
For a short time, Kormand'r had been concerned that it was merely a ruse so that he might best stir up trouble for her, or steal the throne away… but the fear in her heart thawed as she watched him interact with both R'chard and W'llace; they were friends from times past, admittedly from when they had banded together to vanquished her first attempt to conquer Tamaran, but it still counted.
The lingering icicles of suspicion within her chest had melted at the radiant expression on her brother's face when she told him he was to be an uncle… the first time.
And finally, the last seed of doubt had blown away when she beheld the sight of her brother meeting his newborn infant nephew, M'nder; loudly proclaiming the magnificence of the child and swearing an oath to X'hal herself that he would always protect him. Each subsequent addition to their family was greeted in such a manner, but during the time of each child's arrival… it could be said the most nervous person on Tamaran was the uncle-to-be, rather than their future parents. The memory of her dear brother's frantic concern still brought a smile to her face, even now…
Ryand'r would never even dream to do anything to harm her, her children or her bonded. Such was his desire to prove this to his sister, that the royal had even gone so far as to invoke the ancient Tamaranean war goddess, X'hal; who would see that the Prince either kept his word, or be destroyed by her wrathful hand. Not that there was any great fear for his life, Ryand'r was the sort of Prince who took his oaths seriously.
In short, he was the most loyal of all her advisors, and the one she trusted most; because he was the one who understood her best… and the expression on his face as he looked upon her in this moment was of shared pain. "We will get them back, my sister and Empress, trust me." He stated with vehemency.
Grunts and mutters of assent came from the others present, but there was also a great sense of unease within the large room. Their fortress had been breached, an entire galaxy's worth of military might thwarted and evaded by stealth alone, this was an act of war on Earth's behalf; and for the very first time, it had not been their side who had thrown the first blow. They were on the defensive for the very first point in recorded history, and it felt terribly and utterly wrong.
Purple eyes flashed, starbolts of violent violet brilliance enveloped the trembling golden fists clenched at her sides, before she mastered her anger as Ryand'r came over and whispered soothing words to his bereaved sister. Calming her as he had when they were children and the weight of being denied her birthright by a simple illness had often sent her into blinding rages that the palace and its occupants' personal possessions often fell prey to.
"You are right, my brother," Kormand'r breathed out, returning to her calm and collected state as if someone had flipped a switch inside her somewhere unseen, "We will get them back, even if it should cost the insolent Justice League their entire planet. What will there be left to protect and cherish if their beloved Earth has been shattered into billions of infinitesimally small pieces and scattered throughout the galaxy? The denizens of their world enslaved or slaughtered…"
Madness glinted in her eyes, one the Tamaranian advisors knew well and averted their own gazes in sympathy; the heart-sickness, born by those who were bound but torn apart by tragedy. Normally it was an emotional reaction that occurred when one or more members of the bond had experienced a trauma of any kind, or the death of any of the bonded…
There was no reasoning with one trapped in the midst of the heart-sickness, they were consumed with bloodlust until reunited with their bonded, were killed or took their own lives, unless they were cared for and watched until it finally passed. The main problem with the last option was simply that no one knew how long it lasted, and the affected could have weeks of clarity and peace before showing symptoms again… it was very rare to survive this affliction without resolution by reunification of the bonded.
Ryand'r bit his lip, green eyes wide and concerned. He could see the sickness filling his sister, feeding her darker nature, and while he could not condone the heinous act of the Earth heroes… especially at a time like this… he truly did not want to see the world destroyed. There were still humans there that he remembered with fondness (mostly Teen Titans), from their many trips to Tamaran in the past with his other sister. However Kormand'r needed him more, for support and strength right now… Earth be damned.
"Sister, we are with you… but what should we do to retrieve them? And… what shall I tell the children? M'nder and Kora'h are both asking for their fathers, I told them only that I did not know and would ask you at the earliest opportunity." He placated, his hand gently touching her gauntleted wrist. For a mere blinking of the eye, Kormand'r –the High Empress of Tamaran, Conqueror of Galaxies and Ruler of the majority of the known universe- looked utterly lost… like an abandoned child, watching as her parents strode off without a single glance backwards.
Her voice was soft at first, like a whisper to him, but gained strength with each symbol, "Tell them… Tell them their fathers have been stolen from me by monstrous beings, but we shall get them back, I swear to X'hal!"
In full glorious fury, Kormand'r was back to herself, and completely in her element as she began to order her advisory council and it's main members about.
"War Commander Lord Grayung, inform the fleet commanders to prepare for a full-scale invasion; Engineering Senior Minister J'trel, have the engineers complete all maintenance immediately, or they will face execution for treason against the throne. Grustau and Gormg, fire up your warriors… a nice blood-fever to unleash on an unsuspecting world of weak, pathetic creatures; it shall be a sight to see. Security Chiefs Lel'tuk and Uumgou, you will both confer with one another and find the best possible means of maintaining control on the planet while I am away, report your findings to my brother. He shall take my place as your ruler while I am absent; tread carefully, for if I hear of a single slight or omission… then both your heads shall adorn my throne room wall! The rest of you, you already understand your duties, see to them… now leave me."
Taking the dismissal for what it was, the assembled Tamaraneans and Gordanians bowed low and left the room at great speed to fulfil her bidding. One solitary figure remained, Ryand'r. His eyes showed hurt, "My sister, why do you assume that I shall stay here and wait patiently for your return when you go off to fight such formidable foes? Whether you like it or not, I am coming to Earth with your permission, or otherwise… they are my brothers now, and if I do nothing then the haunted faces of my sweet nieces and nephew will taint my dreams for many cycles of the moon to come."
Kormand'r opened her mouth to rebut the statement, to state that her intention was to leave her throne to the one person she could truly trust to return it; and tell him that, deep within the heart many refuted she even possessed, it was really her selfish way of making sure he would be safe from harm… but she found the words lodged in her throat. Ryand'r was correct, he would come whether she wished it or otherwise, it might as well be with her permission.
With a heavy sigh, the High Empress smiled and put a hand dramatically to her forehead, "Oh brother, what can I do with you?" A rare laugh escaped.
~)0(~
From behind the heavy h'tak-coloured curtains, young Prince M'nder shivered, tears streamed from the brilliant violet eyes he had inherited from his mother. A fist was jammed in his mouth, stifling the sobs he would never allow another to hear. Too proud to cry, to admit weakness… or just a scared six-year-old child who truly did not want to upset his grieving mother further?
Someone had taken his Fathers, this the young red-head had understood. A tiny hand was clutching reflexively at the soft fabric of his long, blue loincloth; M'nder looked down and smiled to see that the other was firmly jammed into the four-year-old's mouth. Kora'h sucking away at her fingers for comfort, despite how many times she had been admonished for the infantile practice. Of course, no one could scold the girl for long, not with the way in which she could widen her emerald eyes innocently, with just the hint of tears, which melted even their mother's sternest gaze. They were the same shape as a Tamaranean's, but thought the iris was enlarged to almost three-quarters of her eye, it was still undeniably human in origin; a genetic marvel shared by both of their younger twin sisters –Tayl'h and L'orhren- and glowed with an inner light that could not be quantified.
M'nder was uncertain whether Kora'h understood the gravity of the situation, or whether he actually fully comprehended it either…
But the young prince knew he had to help... even if it was only in some miniscule way.
His mother moved closer to where he and his younger sister were enshrouded by the elegant cloth, and he froze –not so much from fear, but instinctively, like Father had shown him all those years ago. Allowing the natural movements of the curtain as a soft breeze circulated through the room to hide his shallow breaths and tiny, unconscious movements. It was a natural gift, to move about unseen… but unfortunately, it seemed that Kora'h had not been imbued with the same ability, for she wiggled and twitched, fidgeting for no discernable reason. M'nder's heart practically paused as a frown crossed his mother's fair but stern features, glaring openly at their hiding place… She seemed on the verge of striding over and swiping away the concealing fabric.
His mind was already roving as fast as his eyes, glancing about for an exit and simultaneously forging, rethinking and ultimately rejecting various plans of escape. Thinking ahead was always an unconscious habit of his, making plans for plans and a back-up to boot on the off-chance the originals failed. Father had once ruffled his hair and laughed to his other Father that he'd rubbed off something called 'Bat-paranoia' on their 'poor son'…
Father had laughed and responded playfully, ending with them having a mock-fight in one of the fountains. It had been a glorious day. The past faded away as reality struck once again, the princeling realising how much danger he and Kora'h were in should they be caught…
"Sister… come, we must not delay this longer than necessary… I-..I fear you may be ill already, if you understand my meaning. As it stands, we have little time to spare; but let us go and spend it with the children. They will be sad to see you go, but overjoyed when you return home with their Fathers…" Uncle Ryand'r said to Mother in a soft voice filled with concern. M'nder saw the struggling emotions play out over his mother's face, then finally she conceded and turned back to him with a smile, "You are right, brother. We shall see the children at once."
The great exhalation that left his tiny body as the door closed behind the pair was pure relief being released into the open air; he drew in a deep breath to refill practically empty lungs when a sudden thought struck the boy like lightning… They were going upstairs to visit them. As in, the nursery where both he and Kora'h should be patiently awaiting news of their Fathers… right now.
He hefted the little girl on his back, feeling her golden arms secure themselves about his neck and little chubby legs squeeze his ribcage from behind… if nothing else, he would have an inexplicable Kora'h-shaped bruise on his back come morning. M'nder ran through the doors and made a series of clever darts through the palace, avoiding guards left and right, finally throwing himself through a small entranceway to the very end of an empty corridor. Empty of course, because this was the Advisor's Wing of the Palace, and seeing as they had all been sent off on errands by Mother at this very moment… no one was home. That worked out perfectly for the Prince and little Princess…
M'nder winced a moment as he suddenly realised the wet sensation on his chest was Kora'h's spit-soaked hand touching him; an involuntary shiver coursed through his frame, but that would have to wait. The Minister for Palace Security –a young Tamaranean warrior of reputed prowess across the sectors- Chief Protector Val'ya, happened to own the Palace suite directly below the Nursery; strategically a brilliant move on Mother's part. Val'ya could be awake in under a second and leaping her way from the balcony attached to her own suite, to that of the Nursery above in mere seconds… it had been tested many, many times. It was this very amazing set of acrobatics that had inspired M'nder to try it one day, when he had thought no one was watching…
Well, it was probably lucky that Father had been watching that day, or he may have fallen to his death after miscalculating the leap required to reverse the process. Frightful as the manoeuvre had been at the time, with the near-fatal accident aborted, the young Prince was surprised to realise how natural it had felt…
Father had laughed it off and thankfully not mentioned it to Mother, but after hearing the Prince's confession, had taken it into serious consideration and begun to secretly train M'nder in acrobatics and combat. Of course, they both knew that Mother probably knew and was choosing not to do anything about it… but it was far more fun to pretend otherwise…
It was for that reason alone that he had attempted this very stunt tonight; sneaking into Mother's rooms to find out the truth of the situation rather than waiting for the watered-down version that would be delivered by one of the various K'norfgah –or as Father preferred to call them, 'Nannies'- assigned to their care since birth. To 'spare' them all the pain and anguish of knowing the truth. They may be children, but none of them were excessively prone to stupidity and were all unerringly clever for their respective ages… often to the chagrin of parent, servant and K'norfgah alike. As a collective of children, they knew without hesitation that something had happened. Father and Father were missing, and the servants had been clearing rubble from their room for hours.
However, it was the blood-stained bench, cracked and broken as it was, that truly set his heart quivering with fear… and a desire to know the reality of the situation.
Kora'h weighed very little in comparison to his own bodyweight, but Father had always reminded him to compensate for any extra weight no matter how small, or the result could be disastrous. Taking a deep breath for clarity, the Prince felt his heartbeat pick up with enthusiasm as he climbed gingerly onto Val'ya's balcony rail, the stone warm under his feet despite the sky of stars. The balcony above was only meters away, tempting… but the voices of Mother and Uncle were also growing in intensity, echoing down the upstairs corridor and out of the nursery; he would need to be quick to outwit them.
"Kora'h, hold on as tight as you can, and don't let go, remember?" he whispered softly, feeling little arms and legs taking in a vice-like intensity about his body; he felt the soft strands of red brush against his neck as she nodded whilst hiding her face. To be fair, she was only four, and this scared her no end… but there was no other way.
Counting down from a reasonable number in his head, M'nder put both of his arms out, felt for the adjustment he needed given Kora'h's almost negligible weight and did a backflip on the rail, and another. The speed and momentum gained allowed for the third flip to have much greater force behind it, and he pushed off of the balcony rail's solid stone, feeling gravity pull at him, but also whipping his body in an upward arc. After many seconds, the sensation of carefully carved stone graced his palms and the world righted again; with only seconds left, the doors to the Nursery creaking open almost as if in slow-motion, the Prince and Princess heaved themselves up, leapt over the balcony rail and tumbled apart as they hit the cushioned floor. M'nder hit the pile of pillows with an 'Oomph!' sound, while Kora'h giggled and tumbled right into a pile toys, picking them up immediately and beginning to play as if she'd been doing it all night.
Mother and Uncle stood in the now-open doorway, looking in quietly… M'nder pretended not to notice them for a moment, then appeared to start at the sudden invasion. "Hello Mother, Uncle Ryand'r… what are you doing here?"
As the adults looked to one another with uncertain expressions, silently asking who should tell them, and exactly what… the young princeling smiled to himself, they had bought their deception. Then again, was that not practically written into their genetic codes?
~)0(~
Upon the large monitor mounted upon the roughly-hewn cave wall, was the image of an extremely pale man surrounded by various machines and monitors that created a cacophony of noises, all spewing forth from the screen. Overriding all was the sound of a heart-beat, or to be more precise, the beeping ping that signified the creature hooked to all the tubing was still alive… A visual representation of the machine's feed-out appeared on a smaller, adjacent screen to the left.
The peaceful rest of the man was broken as he appeared suddenly agitated and flailing, tearing out Kryptonite-laced IV-tubing and all manner of sensor patches from his person; eyes remaining shut.
A deep, but surprisingly calm voice, spoke into the gloom as the image flickered… doctors rushing from all angles on-screen and attempting to restrain the patient. "Record. File Under: Experiment 'I Tawt I Taw a Puddy Tat'. Time Index: 0234, Hour thirty-seven. Subject appears to be showing violent reaction, growing agitated, thrashing about, damaging himself; conclusions… the lesson is being well-learned. Save log entry."
The computer bleeped, "{Acknowledged.}"
As Superman continued to flail about on-screen, unknowingly committing something the alien considered anathema, by injuring dozens of the humans he sought to protect… a darkly-clad figured leant back in the ominous black chair before the monitor, obviously enjoying himself.
"Record. File Under: Experimental Footnote Supplementary. Subject does not seem aware of his actions, but has wounded over twenty-four medical personnel in under forty-six seconds and appears in state of unconscious agony. Subject appears to be unaware that this is merely stage one… Save log entry."
Steepling his hands together, Batman allowed an uncustomary smirk to grace his features as he stared at the man he had begrudgingly called 'friend' for many years with something akin to loathing.
An alarm went off somewhere in the 'Cave, and the Dark Knight reluctantly rose to attend to it, data appearing on a series of smaller monitors to the right of the BatComputer. Looked like Joker was doing a little partying… the madman was literally painting the town red in what appeared to be very thick pai-… blood, it was blood. For a split-second, Batman almost considered letting him continue on so that he might stay and continue to watch the opening act of what promised to be a very entertaining floorshow… but duty called, Gotham needed him, and Justice would answer.
Pausing before the door to Batmobile Hanger One, the Dark Knight listened to the distressed sounds of the now-conscious Man of Steel as he realised what he had done –despite reassurances from the remaining uninjured doctors that it was not his fault- and Batman smiled. Disappearing into the shadows without a trace, and a dark echo lingering about the walls…
"I'll teach you not to touch my Birds ever again…"
~)0(~
~*To Be Continued...*~
So... it was a little bit lengthy, and blarghy, but there was a bit of exposition required before the next chapter/s,
Sorry if it was not what you expected after all this time.
You may notice a few made-up words in Tamaranean... I did this Because Reasons.
Please feel free to leave me a Review or PM with your thoughts... things are only going to get interesting from here-on in.
~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~