7. Intentions

Alegab was a city of only two million people, but the Bialyan capital bustled with far more activity and life than Kara had ever seen in Kandor. Even under the thumb of a brutal military regime and impoverished from living in a land with little to offer, the Bialyan people had somehow carved out a tough but persistent existence in a fruitless desert.

There was something about that she could admire. In some ways, it reminded her of themselves, the last Kryptonians that still survived. Against the odds, they pushed to survive and even thrive despite the destruction of their world. In others, though, it was remarkably different. The Bialyans, despite their difficult lives, knew where they stood in the world – they were at home.

Kara, like the other Kryptonians onboard Black Zero, had no home.

The bustling stalls of one of many of Alegab's street markets was a sight to behold for her as she strode down the cracked concrete road. Despite the temperature control of her armor and rebreather mask, she could still somewhat feel the oppressive heat of Earth's yellow sun, which was warmer than Rao, the red star of Krypton, had ever been in her lifetime. In general, Krypton had been a colder, less temperate world than Earth. Even so, the heat didn't seem to bother the locals, who went about buying and selling wares, foods, and other goods as part of their daily routines.

There was a certain energy, a dynamism, that existed here in a fashion that Kara couldn't recall ever seeing on Krypton. It was a captivating sort of feeling, one that kept wanting to walk the streets of Alegab and many other cities like it in search of the newest discoveries. One day, certainly, she wanted to try the wide variety of exotic dishes on offer, though she couldn't lie that she was still partial to Ma Kent's homemade mac and cheese.

Kara also couldn't complain about the Sun, either. Despite its oppressive heat, there was still something soothing about it on her face. It was like the feeling she had when she had been brought to the roof of that house by the other, younger, and more verbose Barry Allen. She had felt the Sun rejuvenate her then, and it did the same for her now. Even a simple stroll down the street felt wonderful compared to a half-lifetime in near-perpetual darkness.

At the end of the day, though, she needed to return to reality. She was not here as a mere tourist to explore a new world or to soak in the Sun. She was not even here, in full truth, on Zod's orders for the purported Kryptonian aid mission in this nation that the humans called Bialya. No, she had an ulterior motive, one that she had only reluctantly accepted because it had come from her cousin, Clark. She had received an encoded message from him about two weeks earlier, courtesy of the two-way communication channel that Jor-El's projection had helped them setup. After a few days, she had requested a transfer out of Santa Prisca, which Faora had agreed to with little fanfare. Perhaps the sub-commander had thought that the Barry Allen incident had rattled Kara enough to grant her some leeway in her behavior.

Whatever the reason was, Kara had received her transfer, and she had found herself trading out the humidity of the island Santa Prisca for the desert heat of Bialya, halfway across the world. That was another thing that constantly amazed Kara – the diversity of ecosystems across Earth that humans had somehow found a way to live in. Kandor had been the last populated region on Krypton, and the vast reaches of the planet outside of the city had been considered uninhabitable by the time she had been born. Earth was not so – not yet, at least.

Kara had walked far enough to reach the edge of the city, the buildings growing lower and less dense until they began to turn from modern concrete structures into dustier-looking cobbled-together constructions and finally into wooden homes. When there was no one left, she pushed off with one foot into the air, feeling the familiar force envelop her and propel her upwards instead of downwards in line with gravity.

Flying was always a pleasurable experience for her, even though she couldn't feel the air run through her hair and on her face. Soaring through the air, she kept relatively low to the ground and skimmed over the valleys and hills that dotted Bialya's deserts. When Clark had contacted her, he had given her a set of coordinates—a human invention used to map out Earth in a grid-like pattern—that he had mentioned seemed suspicious. As far as she knew, there was nothing out there even remotely related to the Kryptonian mission to Bialya, but she had memorized its heading from a map nonetheless and plotted out an efficient and discreet course to reach it. She figured that if there was something out in the desert, she would know it when she saw it.

Kara came to a sudden halt, turning upright in the air as she decelerated to a stop. Indeed, she could most definitely see it.

Gigantic panels had been erected in the desert, with the four triangular pieces almost flat about a third to a half-kilometer in the sky. It would have been obvious to anyone to see had it not been for the twin facts of it being in the middle of a deadly desert far beyond where any human could live and the neighboring rocky cliffs and hills largely obscuring a lateral view of the structure. The tops of the panels were constantly in flux, shifting slightly with the surrounding desert sand to blend in and create a camouflaging effect; even with her own eyes in person, Kara could have easily missed it if she had flown overhead without knowing that something was there.

Underneath the panels was where it got even stranger to her sight. The structure—which was the best way she could describe whatever it was hiding beneath the panels—that stood underneath was smaller than Black Zero, but its distinctive three-legged design was still highly reminiscent of Kryptonian design, though Kara had no idea what it was supposed to be. Even as it sat under the panels, black-colored flowing arms of flexible Kryptonian hydro-frames swarmed around the construction, inserting paneling into place and emitting lasers to weld together components.

Around the entire site was a flurry of activity. At least a dozen Kryptonians, clad in armor just like her and armed with blaster rifles unlike her, patrolled the perimeter, and a gunship—the second of the two from Black Zero, she absentmindedly noted, with the other still above Santa Prisca—hovered just off to the side, still under the protective shade of one of the nearly-horizontal panels. Kara floated down to the ground and began to walk toward the site. The only way she was going to get a better idea of what was going on was to get closer. Her hope was that in her armor, no one was going to look twice at her about it.

That hope was confirmed as she passed by one of the patrolling guards without issue; he hadn't even looked twice at her as she walked up to the side of the structure being pieced together. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied stacks of crates in large piles under the protective cover of the panels. Still, whatever the structure was, it was far too large to have come from those crates alone. No, the construction was extensive enough to require new metals and new mining efforts; perhaps there had been mining equipment stored aboard Black Zero when it had been placed in the Phantom Zone. And none of that explained the lingering question of what the structure was meant for. Clearly, though, it couldn't be anything good for the humans if Zod was trying to hide it, which—in Kara's begrudging opinion—didn't bode well for her thoughts on the matter. This seemed more like something the Zod of the past life she remembered would do rather than the Zod she remembered from Krypton.

"Kara Zor-El," a familiar voice called out, causing her to turn around to see the man himself. Zod was flanked by two Kryptonian guards, their rifles still lowered. That was of little comfort, though, given the cold expression on the Kryptonian general's face. "What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in the human city."

"I followed some of the convoys out this way," Kara explained, searching quickly to piece together enough half-truths with her lies to pass muster. She also quietly tapped a command on her wrist-bound communicator – a beacon for help. "I was not sure where they were going and was not sure whether they were supposed to be going elsewhere, so I followed them and ended up here."

Zod was silent for a moment. "Kara," he finally said. "You haven't changed at all since we first met, all those years ago, in Kandor. Do you remember that day? You had come to visit the Council with your father, who so wanted to present you as the future of your house."

"I do," Kara replied, her brow furrowing in mild confusion. "But why?"

"That day," Zod continued, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked to the side, "I saw a promising young woman who had the potential to be great. Someone who had much to give to the future of Krypton." He stopped, turning his head to her. "But Krypton no longer exists, which leaves us not only without a home, but without a purpose until we can recreate Krypton. That is what we are here for, is it not? To rebuild Krypton."

"How?"

Zod sighed. "You are too young, I suppose. There are many things you do not know, many more things that you do not understand. You were not taught of our history and how we once spread ourselves amongst the stars." He suddenly had a strange look on his face. "Are you still that same Kara Zor-El, the one that I met that day in Kandor? Or have you always like this, and I was simply too blind to see it?"

"I… I do not understand, General," Kara hesitantly responded. Zod's words were confusing and almost nonsensical to her.

"You have lied to me more than once today," Zod stated, unclasping his hands. "I would have thought that you could struggle through as I have, to set your mind in place as the master of your memories and do what needed to be done, but it seems that is not the case. No matter." He gestured and the two guards raised their blaster rifles at her. "Now, I will ask you one more time: why are you here, and who sent you?"

Kara bit her lower lip and pushed off the ground as hard as she could, cracking the earth beneath her and shooting right through one of the camouflaged panels that hid the structure. She pulled off her rebreather mask and tore off her armor one piece at a time, grunting as her senses were assaulted thanks to the augmented capacity they were granted by Earth's nourishing atmosphere. Still, she cared little about that – she needed every advantage to escape. Stripping down to her black skinsuit made her lighter and faster in the air, even if only marginally so, and the armor would do little at this point.

"After her!" she heard Zod yell as she took off.

Behind her, she could see the gunship that patrolled the structure blast off hot on her heels, and its main gun began to fire on her. Thankfully for Kara, she was much smaller and nimbler than even the highest-performance skimmers on Krypton, and the gunship was far too slow in comparison. Coming to a stop and turning around to face the gunship, she blasted toward the craft and punched when she reached its hull. Her mind returned to another memory—a recollection of punching similarly through a human missile—but she ignored it as she felt the shields crumple beneath her might and the alloy hull likewise give way. The pilot of the gunship screamed as he was ripped his seat by the force of Kara passing through the gunship in its entirety, shearing the entire craft in half as it exploded in mid-air.

Kara floated there for a few moments, breathing heavily as she saw the debris of the gunship fall to the ground in flaming ruins. A soft boom caught her attention, and she looked up to see a figure speeding toward her with both arms extended. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was Zod, bereft of armor and rebreather mask and clad only in his black skinsuit.

Before she could properly react, he reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning Kara around in a circle before flinging her into the distance. Unable to control herself, she crashed through the rocky cliff of a plateau and into the desert beneath, struggling to pull herself out of the sand as her body ached from the collision.

"I am disappointed, Kara," Zod stated as he floated down to her level a little distance away. "I had high hopes for you. I thought that you, of all people, would understand why I must do what I do."

"I do not know what you are doing, Zod," Kara groaned, standing up, "but if you are doing what I think you are doing, then you have to be stopped."

"Earth will be the new Krypton, Kara," Zod replied, walking toward her calmly. "The only question that remains is whether you will be a part of it. Right now, you sound like a traitor to your own people. Is that really the path you want to walk down?"

"There are billions here that you are condemning to death," she retorted.

"Billions of what, Kara? Humans? They are nothing to me. I would sacrifice a million of them if it meant that one more Kryptonian life could live, and I would gladly give them all for the rebirth of our world. And this time, I will do it properly." His strike came hard and heavy, sending her tumbling even further away. Before she could push herself back up, Zod was there, throwing another punch into her and slamming her into the ground. Lifting her up, he threw her into side of the nearby rocky cliff and followed that up with more blows to her mid-section. Her eyes were wide as she gasped for air amidst the pain and the attacks, but Zod gave little reprieve.

Finally, he reached out like lightning and grabbed Kara by the throat before she could even react, picking her up as she spluttered for breath, her arms flailing almost futilely against his iron grip. "Where is the Codex, Kara? I know you do not have it within you now. Is it in Kal-El? Is that where Jor-El has hidden it?"

Kara felt complete and utter fear in that moment, that cold sensation running through her body and into the tips of her limbs. "K—Kal," she whispered, barely able to breathe. "He will stop you."

Zod frowned, squeezing a little tighter. "And where is he? How is he going to help you if I snap your neck in my—"

"He's right here, General," Clark's voice came from behind Zod, and the Kryptonian general turned only in time to see Clark's fist shoot out like a speeding bullet and catch him in the jaw. The force of the punch was such that it caused a shockwave that rippled out and cracked the nearby rocky plateau—what was left of it after Kara was flung through it—and caused Zod to go flying in the uncontrolled sense. Kara, on the other hand, was sent the other direction as Zod lost his grip on her throat, but before she could collide into the ground, she found herself in the arms of her cousin.

"You okay?" Clark asked, a small smile on his face. "I hope I got here in time. I was a little busy when I heard the call."

Kara's throat was sore and she was still struggling to catch her breath, so she simply nodded. Clark looked up and past Kara to where Zod was. Already, the older Kryptonian was pushing himself up to his feet. Behind Kara's head, she could hear the incoming footsteps of other Kryptonian soldiers, more of Zod's men coming to the aid of their general.

"The odds don't look good," Clark admitted. He looked at Kara. "I'm gonna get you to safety, and we'll regroup from there."

Without waiting for a response, he took off at a much faster acceleration than Kara had ever consciously experienced. In addition to the usual pop that came with passing the sound barrier, a vapor cloud formed around them and burst almost as quickly as Clark passed the well beyond transonic speeds. The earth, far beneath them at that point, zipped across in almost a blur, changing rapidly from the deserts and cliffs of Bialya to plains and then finally into open water. Soon enough, they were back over land, flying across green pastures and forests until they reached familiar yellow fields. Kara began to feel fatigue set into her bones as she tried to stabilize her breathing. The Kent homestead rapidly approached as Clark came to a full deceleration on the front porch of the wooden home.

Before Clark could reach for the door, it swung open with Pa Kent standing at the threshold.

"I just fixed this door," Kara heard Pa Kent say, "so I'm not gonna let—is that Kara? Get her in here."

There was some shuffling and soon enough, Kara found herself on a rather comfortable, if small, seating arrangement, a heavy blanket draped over her just as quickly.

"Can you hear me, Kara?" Clark asked.

"Ye-yes," Kara whispered, her voice much hoarser than she remembered it being.

"Jonathan, what's going on? Is that Clark? I forgot to tell him that Kara left her, um, Superman suit with us last time." Ma Kent's voice came from behind the couch. "Clark? Oh my God, Jonathan – her neck!"

"Just rest," Clark said, distracting her from the Kents' conversation. His eyes never left her. "You're safe here. You can sleep. I've already contacted the others."

Kara tried to stay awake, but between the weariness that had settled deep into her muscles and bones and the pain of aches across her body and around her neck, she decided that staying right where she was constituted a more comfortable decision. Soon enough, she let her eyelids droop down and finally close, and she felt the tension fall out of her body entirely as she fell asleep.

"Barry, I honestly have no idea about anything regarding the multiverse," Bruce said, leaning forward from his leather recliner, "or this… 'Speed Force,' so all I can offer is speculation."

"Speculation is good," Barry nodded, holding up both of his fingers in front of him like an American football goal post as he sat on the edge of the sofa facing Bruce. "I'll take your speculation over, um, what I've got, which is absolutely nothing right now."

"You feel slower than you used to, and apparently this," Bruce gestured up and down at Barry as he took a slow sip of from his steaming cup of tea, "is not what you used to look like, as far as you say. If I had to guess—which I unequivocally am, with virtually no basis—then I'd say that crossing universes has inhibited your connection to this Speed Force dimension. We've certainly ruled out a number of other possibilities."

Indeed, they had. Over the past few days, Barry had made so many trips between Central City and Gotham that the grumpier, new Alfred had given up and just made the spare bedroom that he had recuperated in once before into Barry's own de facto personal room. In claiming ownership of the room, Barry had even taken to leaving a toothbrush in that room's en suite – on a permanent basis too, assuming Alfred didn't throw it out.

In that time, Bruce had examined the suit that the other Bruce had once made for Barry. As far as Barry could tell, nothing about it had changed other than having a few more nicks and scratches than it once did, but Bruce had wanted to test it and see if it was perhaps the cause of Barry's speed complaints. They had also tested Barry's reaction to battery of different chemicals to examine whether the universe cross-over event had somehow changed his physical composition. As it turned out, neither of those had been the case, which left Barry back at square one.

Bruce rubbed his chin for a few moments in contemplation. "What do you remember of crossing over?"

Barry leaned back into the sofa, feeling himself sink into its soft leather cushions. He closed his eyes, trying to push his way into those memories that seemed all too distant for some reason. "I… I—I'm not sure, honestly. I remember…" He remembered many things – too many things, if he were to be honest, that he perhaps would've rather forgotten. Bruce and Kara, dying over and over. The 'chronobowl' of that world's timeline. The younger Barry turning mad and declaring himself to be the 'Anti-Flash' against him. Speeding against him into the past. Maneuvering his would-be past self into killing their own mother.

Barry flinched at that particular memory.

And then what had happened? He remembered… running. Running faster than he ever had before. Faster than when in the Kryptonian ship to resurrect Superman. Faster than when he had reversed time at Pozharnov against the might of the Unity of the Mother Boxes. Even faster than when he had gone back in time to save his mother in the first place. The Speed Force had flowed so freely then, igniting every nerve in his body with the coursing lightning as he rushed through space-time. Every muscle in his body was on fire—an unusual feeling in and of itself since he didn't normally feel that kind of physical fatigue in the Speed Force unless he had been running a lot—as he fought against the inevitability of an ending timeline.

Then there was nothing. Just faint echoes: screams, yells, and emotions that he could somehow feel, pouring out of the collapsing timeline and into him. There was anger, hate, fear, and so much more. It had felt like there was extra weight holding onto him, but instead of the weight pulling him back, he had pulled it forward with him through the Speed Force. And the next thing he remembered was waking up on his bed, screaming into his pillow.

"Barry?" Bruce's voice called him back to reality. The billionaire vigilante had a concerned expression. "You still with me?"

"Yeah… yeah, Bruce, I'm still here. Mostly." Barry responded. "I just, I can't quite remember anything after a certain point. There's a, a gap, or something. Like a hole in my memory between when I started to run and when I ended up here. I can only remember some sounds, some feelings, and a sensation like I was being pulled back."

Bruce blinked a few times in silence. "I'll have to be honest – I have no idea what to think about that."

"Neither do I," Barry admitted, "and I'm the one who was actually there. And now I'm wondering where the Barry who was here," he gestured to himself, "went, too. Like, did I become him? Did I kill him? Did I ship him off into a different timeline? Is he in my original body now?"

"Well, since you mentioned how you have all of the memories—minus the ones in the gap you mentioned—of two different Barry Allens, I would suggest that perhaps you two… merged. Purely my speculation, of course."

"That sounds at least a little disturbing. That'd be like me being a…" Barry gestured wildly, "a Barry soup or something. Like you took old Barry and new Barry and then mixed us up into a dish." He paused. "Wow, that was a really weird analogy. I probably shouldn't say that again."

Bruce nodded. "I'd agree. On all of that. But it does bring up the possibility that you're not quite you anymore, if you get me. That you're not the same Barry Allen who started running, and you're most definitely not the same Barry Allen who was here before you got here."

"That'd… make sense, yeah. But I don't feel all that different."

Bruce shrugged. "Honestly? I couldn't tell you. I have no idea what you were like before you got shuttled between universes. But if you think that maybe the way you approach things has changed, or maybe you feel more confident or cowardly, funnier or duller in personality – well, that'd suggest that you're not the same."

A stray memory crossed Barry's mind. "That's mad trippy."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's certainly… one way of putting it. And I'd guess that whatever issues you're having with speed is related to whatever you don't remember. Again, I'm no expert, but I'd assume that crossing over entire universes could be a traumatic event." He eyed Barry seriously. "And not just physically, but mentally too. Don't feel like you can't talk to me or, hell, Alfred if you need to. He might look intimidating, but he's really a cuddly teddy bear on the inside."

The thought of this Alfred being friendly and hugging him sent a small shiver down Barry's spine. That was a slightly cursed thing to imagine.

"In this line of work," Bruce continued, interlacing his fingers and putting his chin on it as he placed his elbows on the top of his thighs, "keeping good mental health is as important, or perhaps even more important, than physical health. I have access and resources to some of the best therapists and psychologists in the country. If you need that care, you have to let me know."

"I will, Bruce," Barry responded, genuinely grateful. "Thanks."

Bruce nodded. Before he could speak up again, though, a beeping emitted from his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked it, looking up at Barry with an expression that Barry could assume was not a 'Bruce Wayne' look but rather a 'Batman' look.

"Time to go," Bruce said, his voice already starting to shift downward into the Batman timbre. A bookshelf sliding reveal and elevator ride later, and the duo were in the Batcave. Alfred was already down there, working on what appeared to be a suit of armor on an operating table on one of the adjacent platforms to the main computer hub.

"Master Wayne," Alfred grunted out as he finished a weld and lifted up his hood, "I was down here when I saw the alert. It was a good thing that I was already preparing the mechanical exosuit because the nature of the alert suggests that you may prefer it."

"Is it ready?" Bruce asked, moving toward a small alcove where several identical or near-identical Batsuits were stored.

"Generally, sir," Alfred responded. "There may be some issues with the software, but I can try patching it on the go."

"Wait," Barry finally asked, having stood around for a few minutes without anything to do. "What's the alert about?"

Bruce pulled on his cape, completing his Batman outfit sans the cowl. "It's Zod. He's making his move."

Barry took a deep breath and zipped into his suit without another word. The fateful day he had feared had finally arrived. This Zod had already deviated from what he remembered in his own timeline and even in the altered timeline, but in the end, it seemed like every version of Zod was fundamentally the same. They were all hellbent on destruction for Earth and humanity.

The only thing he could hope for was that this Justice League would be enough to meet the threat.

To Be Continued