Chapter 5: You.
More chapters on my (P)atreon at Saintbarbido.
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(General P.O.V)
"Azarath metrion Zinthos."
Raven chanted lowly.
Black tendrils rose out from her cloak, washing through the ground to cradle Davian and Kent on dark stretchers constructed by her demonic energy.
Zatara stiffened slightly at the dark nature of her energy but returned to carrying out scanning spells around the room. He was afraid that most of the magical materials spilled around would cause some unwanted issues. No one wanted a magical node of mystical energy with different effects just lying around.
However, he knew he couldn't get rid of the demonic, mystic and whatever the boy, Davian's powers were, completely. They were like a dark cloud, hanging around in the air. They twisted and clashed against one another. The air was tainted by mysteries. He was going to need an expert.
Davian groaned at the slight jostle. While Kent was relatively fine, Davian's body was covered by burns and other wounds that seemed to heal slowly. His enhanced healing seemed to be faster than a human but nothing to really write home about.
"He's in pain."
Raven informed Zatara.
"Help him. Please."
She pleaded.
Zatara gave a single nod and stopped whatever he was doing, kneeling in front of Davian. He placed a palm on Davian's forehead, running the same diagnosis spell he had on Kent.
Zatara reached for Davian's torn t shirt, straightening it out to reveal a hole in the middle of the clothing. Raven gasped, gripping the material and tearing it away. A long red scar laid on Davian's chest. She traced the edges with her fingers.
"I can only boost his own healing."
Zatara sighed, placing a comforting hand on Raven's shoulder. She bit down on her urge to shake it off. Raven usually recoiled upon physical contact. She wasn't used to it and the intention behind the contact usually wasn't good. She had met a lot of bad people. Most of them hid behind kind expressions. Except Kent, Davian and now Zatara.
So she allowed it.
"I remember this happening." She began narrating.
"The two of us were walking down the hall. We were coming from the Alchemy chamber when all of a sudden, a portal appeared. Fate entered, declaring that Davian did not belong. And to some extent even me."
She looked up at Zatara.
"He shoved a glowing yellow sword through his chest. Davian burst through a wall and it's only because I managed to attach a line to his ankle that I was able to save him from falling to his death."
Zatara looked around, a thoughtful expression coming onto his face.
"Fall?... ah, the magma pool. It's still there?"
"According to Kent, it's important for forging. A Sorcerer's tower should have an Alchemy chamber, a spell chamber and..."
"A forge."
Zatara added with a slight chuckle.
"As old school as ever."
He shook his head.
Raven smiled a little, eyes passing over Kent's sleeping form. The smile fell away.
"This wasn't right. Nabu got off too easy."
She shook her head, anger flaring inside her.
"He'll get what's coming to him. The Lords of Order do not tolerate failure."
Zatara said, getting to his feet.
"Right now we need to make sure we lock up tight before we leave the Tower."
"Leave?"
She wondered what he meant. Leave and go where?
Zatara nodded.
"There is no sense in staying here. Nabu could very likely find a way back and that would be a problem for you."
She frowned at the logic behind his statement. To Raven though, it sounded like running. Running when they had already won the fight. She was tired of always running.
"Fine."
She muttered, eyes passing over Davian's sleeping form.
"But before all that, we need to handle this mess."
Zatara gestured around them.
Raven winced.
"Yeah, I don't suppose you can magic it all away?"
"You remind me of my daughter."
Zatara snorted placing his wand in-between his arm and chest before digging a hand into his pockets.
"Magic it all away? No, no I cannot. Magic has rules. The magical artifacts and potions lying around are causing a... bonfire that I cannot absolutely try to add to. One strong spell cast, no matter the effect, would be like a fuse being ignited."
Raven could admit she wasn't a fan of the grim reality.
"Fear not, my dear. I am not without a solution."
His hand came out holding a tarot card. The fool.
With a single snap of his finger, the card went up in blue flames.
"Now we wait."
Zatara sighed as the magic died down. His left hand opened the pocket watch on him, revealing his young daughter's face beaming up at him from the small picture. He might miss her when she wakes up to go to school. Zatara shook his head. He was needed here.
"Zatara to Console."
He rattled off at the comms in his ear.
"Go on Zatara."
Green Lantern's voice was there to answer.
"Oh, Jordan, I thought you were off-world?"
There was a frustrated intake of breath.
"I got sent back forcefully. The Guardians said I was too... passionate about saving Barr...the Flash. Stewart was reassigned to him."
"How is he?"
Zatara wondered, sitting on the surface of a table that was resting on a mound of stones.
"He's... hanging on. It might take some time until the brain washing is undone."
Jordan's voice took on a grave tone.
"They were surprised that something could do that to a speedster."
There was silence for a short while between the two men. This job was not a safe one. Yeah year showed that. He could only imagine what Iris was going through. Or any of Barry's family.
"Batman thinks there is more to this than meets the eye." Jordan continued.
"I think so too. If you ask him, it begins with..."
"Davian Mabuz."
A voice said from the shadows. Raven jumped up, standing before Kent and Davian, spheres of black energy covering her fists.
"Console, I'll get back to you. Calvary has arrived."
"Okay Zatara, over."
Green Lantern switched off.
"Bloody hell." Another voice exclaimed.
"I'm very glad we took the staircase. Portalling into this room with all this magic hanging around would not have been good for our health, Mate."
A blonde, 6-foot middle aged man with a scruffy beard stepped out from within the shadows.
"Say Zatara, you mind helping me out with a lighter, old chap?"
He asked, holding out a cigarette between his fingers. Zatara raised his eyebrows. He had magic, why not do it himself?
"I'll need all my juice for this one."
Constantine shrugged.
"John."
Zatara gave a nod before snapping a finger and lighting up the cigarette.
"We need to talk."
Another figure, the first one that had spoken, swooped down from the ground, falling next to Zatara.
"What the...?"
Raven exclaimed in surprise at the entry.
"Yeah he does that..." Constantine chuckled, taking a drag of the cig. Then he felt someone's intense gaze on him.
"Wait... Raven?"
"You... I'm surprised you recognized me."
Raven bit back with a growl. Her tone was filled with as much Vitriol and hate as she could. Constantine was shocked, the cigarette falling off his lips. A hard expression appeared on his face. That day, a few months...
"Raven I..."
He stepped forward, holding out a hand towards her.
"Stay back!"
She refused, holding up her fists threateningly. Batman and Zatara shared a look.
"You know each other?"
The magician asked.
Raven let out a bitter laugh.
"Know each other? He's the reason why I was captured by Waller in the first place!"
Zatara threw a hard look Constantine's way.
"If it wasn't for his obsession with contacting my father and making a deal to heal someone, then an entire town of Cultists would still be around somewhere. Granted, most of them were religious fanatics, but you indirectly caused the deaths of over a thousand people. Then you left me behind."
There was a cloud of silence hanging in the air. Constantine had a regretful look on his face. Hearing his sins get thrown back at his face was jarringly off putting.
"I..."
"We don't have time for this."
Batman cut in, walking forward to stop in front of Davian's sleeping form. Raven held his gaze for a second, stubbornly refusing to move.
"It's okay, Raven. He won't hurt them."
Zatara assured her.
"Touch a single hair on their heads and you'll know the true meaning of darkness, Dark Knight."
She warned. Batman's lips quirked up in a small smile.
"I believe you."
He told her, stepping around her form and crouching in front of Davian.
His fingers ran over his wrist computer and a green scanning light washed up and down their bodies.
"One seems to be healing, though it will take some time before he is back to full health. Mr. Nelson on the other hand, needs medical attention."
He stood up, facing the group.
"What happened here Zatara?"
"Before that, I need to know. What is he doing here?"
Raven interrupted, pointing a finger Constantine's way. Zatara sighed.
"We can't leave the Tower like this. A lot of magic activity would spring from the energy signature hanging in the air. We need someone to expel the power. Someone to exorcise it all away."
"The great John Constantine."
Raven muttered sarcastically.
"Raven you..."
Constantine began but was interrupted by her glare. The mood was tense and awkward.
The air above them begun to hum as the Batwing arrived to hover outside the scar formed by Davian's attack. A ramp withdrew from the craft, providing them a way in.
"Let's go."
Zatara said to Raven.
She gave a nod, threw another scathing look Constantine's way and left for the ramp, behind her floating on dark constructs, Davian and Kent followed.
Zatara watched her walk off before turning to Batman.
"I'm not sure how much I can tell you on the way. The helmet of Fate simply went crazy, it controlled Kent and tried to harm the children."
"Mmh. But they're safe. You did well Zatara."
Batman responded.
"Oh you flatter me Batman. Believe it or not, they were giving him a good fight before I arrived."
Then he turned to Constantine.
"John, you and I have our... differences but thank you for coming. Take care of the Tower in 'his' absence."
"Of course mate."
Constantine answered softly.
Then Zatara walked away too, leaving the Dark Knight and the expert exorcist alone.
"Explain."
Batman bit out.
"What's there to explain?" Constantine asked, removing another cigarette before lighting it up with a flame at the tip of his finger.
"It's the usual fair with me. I got cancer, tried to fight it how I know how."
He shrugged.
"By making a deal with the devil?"
Batman growled out.
"Hahaha, oh no. Not the real deal. The real deal is way cooler and an actual good friend... sometimes. No, Trigon... Trigon is a nasty bloke. A multidimensional mystical entity hell bent on conquering our dimension and taking over. In some ways he's worse than your normal run of the mill Demon."
"Why?"
Batman questioned.
"They have a lot of false bravado. Showmanship. He's the real thing Bats. Full access to earth for 5 minutes and it's gone. No ifs and buts, swallowed up by his dimension."
Batman tightly grabbed his trench coat.
"And you tried to make a contract with him?! Why?"
He barked out.
"I was desperate!"
Constantine tore himself away.
"Blimey mate! You have no idea how it's like!"
Batman shook his head.
"Nothing can justify the deaths of over a 1000. If she's right Constantine, then you and I will see each other soon."
Then he shot a line and disappeared.
The Batwing rose away and disappeared into the night air.
"Well, Fuck my luck."
Constantine muttered.
(Central City)
A steak of lightning passed through Gorilla Grodd's left, swiping his legs out from under him. He tumbled before rolling right into a street light, head hitting the metal and disorienting him.
A power dampening cuff found its way onto his wrists as he tried to get up.
The flash of Scarlet light happened again. This time, the light disappeared to reveal a costumed older gentleman. He had on a signature metal cap and a blue and red costume.
"Stay down Grodd."
Jay Garrick, the first Flash advised.
(Davian's P.O.V)
I came back. But things were different.
My inner world was not the same.
Something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
The cemetery looked even more unusual today.
It was gloomier, covered by a thick layer of mist that completely shrouded everything in a white carpet. At first, I tried to go back to the real world. Raven was going to need me in the fight.
Doctor Fate was not a B list character that she could solo on her own.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried to pull on the tether connecting me to my body, I didn't succeed.
It was all by design too. Someone wanted me to stick around. Faced with no other choice, I decided to keep moving forward. I could only hope that Raven was having better luck surviving and protecting my body. That raised another question, what would happen if it died?
My foot stepped on a dried branch. It broke but released a sour smell. I knelt and lifted it, black mist rising out of the branch. That's new. I looked around again, noting that I was standing under the crest of a hill of gravestones. Visibility was very low but I could feel something watching.
The black mist curled around my hand as I stood up. The whole ground, seemed to be covered by the same thing. It was concerning but not urgent. What was urgent, was knowing what the fuck had happened here.
"Gordon?!"
I called out into the cemetery.
No one answered.
I took another step and bumped into something. A small gnarled twisted tree. What made me stumble away was the numerous eyes, around the tree. All of them were crying blood tears, all of them turned to stare at me balefully.
I gulped, steadying myself on the Gravestone next to me. I closed my eyes and when I opened them. The Cemetery was gone. Instead, I found myself in the middle of a plain white field of sand. A desert. There was a moon shining above me and for miles all I could see was the sand dunes. A lone crystal tree broke the continuous landscape once in a while.
The change threw me out of loop enough that I started getting angry.
"This is not funny."
I called out into the air.
All that answered was a lonely breeze blowing past.
'... name...'
I narrowed my eyes. The word had seemingly been carried by the winds but apart from the sensation of being watched, I couldn't see the source.
I began walking aimlessly forward again. The feeling of someone watching you was not a good sensation. It sent shivers all over my skin. My body was tense with every step. That's when I realized another unwanted detail. The push and pull had stopped working. I couldn't access my spirit energy.
I faltered on my step. 'That's not good.'
I sighed, suddenly feeling cold without the familiar hum of power inside my chest. Or the warmth in my wrists whenever I pulled on the Reiryoku. Despite the lack of power, I wasn't weak. Not like before.
Recent developments had shown I couldn't use my normal skills, not without access to Reiryoku. However, my body had been steadily changing. I had baptized it by constantly using spirit energy to increase muscle mass density. It was only possible because of a theory I had.
You see, Gotei 13 Captains have one distinguishing factor. As soul beings their bodies are constructed by Reishi. Training and honing their soul skills ensured that even after they died, their bodies did not decompose or break down.
The reishi making up their flesh had grown so dense, even time could not wear it down. I had no idea if I was made from Reishi, but using that thought process, I had managed to enhance my base physical strength, durability and speed to peak human. Active application of Reiryoku to enhance my body took me to superhuman levels. Albeit nothing too exaggerated.
So I might have been less dangerous but I was still dangerous. Speaking of danger, I looked at my right hand and the empty sheath I carried with me. A sigh escaped my lips, someone really wanted to piss me off.
It wasn't enough that I had no access to spirit energy while in my own inner world, I also did not have my primary weapon, my sword.
Where was my sword? I had no idea. It did not seem to have made it to my inner world with me. So what was so special about the sheath? Well, apart from the squiggly golden cursive lines on its length, there wasn't much more. Or so I thought, until I tried to channel Reiryoku through the sheath and it complied, glowing green instead of the purple I was so used to seeing.
"Whoa."
My face was illuminated emerald, as I stared at the softly dancing energy around the sheath. It seemed...gentler than what I was used to. I settled into a pose, lifting up the sheath before slashing in a downwards trajectory.
"Getsuga Tensho!"
A green, slow burst of conical shaped energy escaped the tip of the sheath, then the energy seemed to disappear into the air.
The sheath didn't seem to do much than that. I couldn't shoot out sharp sword arcs through it like I'd hoped. Instead any beam I managed to let out was blocky and slow. It was as if attacking was not its main point or application.
Still, anything was better than having no weapon.
A few hours later, I managed to reach the top of the massive dune I had made my goal and looked down onto the other side. I had probably cleared 6 miles from my starting point. Nothing had stood out during that trek.
And then something did.
A lone figure stumbled inside a wide basin at the bottom of the dune I was on. They were dressed in a grimy green shirt, a gray tie, black pants and spectacles covering a moustached face.
"Gordon..."
It was obviously the police commissioner. But what was he doing here?
In fact, what was I even doing here too? Why was my inner world so different? It wasn't lost on me that it now looked similar to Hueco Mundo. And was I dead? Did Fate manage to banish me from Earth to where he thought I had come from? Hueco Mundo?
I began to breathe heavily, on the verge of a breakdown. Grabbing the sand with my palm and watching it fall helped me center myself. I...no we needed to get out of here. This place was definitely not welcoming to the psyche.
And if it was possibly modelled after Hueco Mundo, mental breakdown was the least of our worries.
Luckily for both Gordon and I, while the terrain was similar that was about it. I had not come across any Hollow tracks while walking. And despite the fact that Hueco Mundo was effectively infinite, it was weird that there would be no signs whatsoever of its main residence.
I finally got to my feet again and looked around. I was calm now.
"I can tell you're watching. Why don't you come out and face me like a man?"
I called out. As usual there was no answer.
My gaze fell to the only other being I could see. Gordon probably had some answers.
making sure that I wouldn't be walking towards an ambush, I released a shunpo (Flash step) towards Gordon. Now a shunpo is the pinnacle of Hoho arts, which was basically, super speed.
But with conditions.
From my practice, initial entry into the skill manifested in huge explosions of Spirit energy to push you forward. The speed was not too fast, and you could only go on a linear trajectory. It was very inefficient. Despite that, I could activate the skill just fine.
I felt a pushback from the sand below me. As if it refused to allow me to move across it. It was...weird. Imagine trying to run towards a huge fan. There is naturally a lot of air resistance coming towards you. The feeling was similar.
I tripped on my feet and started rolling down the sand dune uncontrollably, only managing to kill my momentum by stabbing the sheath on the loose sand.
"Tew!" I spat out sand particles.
"That was very annoying."
On the positive side, Gordon was now only a few feet away from me. He was still shambling forward in an unsteady gait, not seeming to notice my entry.
I rose to my feet.
"Commissioner Gordon?"
He stiffened in place at the call of his name. I tightened my grip on the sheath. I had gotten so used to my sword that I felt naked without it.
"Are you okay?"
I questioned, slowly walking towards him while looking around vigilantly.
Gordon lowered his neck.
"You..."
His voice was scratchy and dry.
"You lied."
He said.
My heart grew cold.
"I didn't. I tried to come back many times but there was always something blocking me."
My answer was met with a laugh.
"Not something... someone. It...'he' comes when the moonlight is slow." His voice went low, unhinged.
"With a blue curtain fall. He mocks my inability to keep my mind."
Gordon's knees shook as he fell. I immediately ran forward to help him up.
"Hey it's alright man. I'm here now."
I touched his shoulder. The body underneath the shirt was bony and weak. How long had he been for?
He jerked his head to stare at me and I instinctively jumped away. His skin was a pale pallid color, his eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, his glasses were cracked, hair shaggy and the most alarming thing of all, he had a chain. a 3-meter chain that dragged on the ground, attached to the middle of his chest. The end of the chain links were slowly disintegrating into the air.
My lips parted, a hundred questions running through my mind.
'Oh no.'
Something told me this wasn't the Gordon I had known before.
Week fingers gripped my wrist, commissioner Gordon looking up at me with a crazed expression.
"I couldn't get used to it. My mind...it's all so silent. The desolation. He told me you were not ready to save me. That you're still too weak. So I took a chance. I walked out of the cemetery. I've been walking and walking..."
He moaned in horrifying sincerity. I swallowed, kneeling down before him.
"Commissioner Gordon, what the fuck happened to you?"
I whispered the question.
"I... I miss my wife. I miss our little bundle of joy...Barb. My Barbara..."
He responded with a tone of loss.
A lump formed in my throat. I had fucked up. I should have tried harder to come back. No, not just come back, I should have put aside my hate for Batman and found a way to tell him of the possibility of Gordon's body being alive.
I hadn't felt the need to because 1) Gordon hadn't had his chain severed so I assumed his captors had needed him alive. The fact that it was now eating itself spelled nothing good for his physical vessel.
Secondly, I had a grudge against the Dark Knight. The fear that had been there had steadily been honed into anger. I won't lie, I had had nightmares about him for days after finding myself in the Tower of Fate. So did I hate him? Yeah. I hated him for being fake.
That was that, what mattered the most was not letting down Gordon again. He talked about a 'he'. Taking into account everything I knew, there was only one possible being responsible for all this.
It seems I had a very...troublesome Zanpakuto spirit. Granted, I had already suspected all that after the numerous whispers of 'name'
"I know you're watching. If you truly know me then you would understand, I hate playing mind games. What the fuck do you want?"
It must have been a trick of the light but I swear I saw the world spin. Gordon's shoulders stiffened.
"He's coming."
I blinked my eyes and my vision changed once more. It was subtle, only catching up to me after a full second.
We were back in the Cemetery. The White sands of Hueco Mundo exchanged for patchy ground with gray grass and mist.
Gordon was on his knees, leaning on his own Gravestone. But we weren't alone. On top of that same gravestone was a tall figure dressed in a white fur coat with a purple collar that extended into a large hood. The only thing I could see within it, covering his face was a devilish grin.
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. Whoever this was, my Zanpakuto spirit or someone completely different, they gave me the feeling of absoluteness. A strength that was Immeasurable. I couldn't sense their spirit energy with my own budding Reikaku (spirit sense). That's how far in power they were in comparison.
One brief surge of spirit pressure from him and I could possibly die.
I raised my sheath and without a word, poured in Reiryoku and held it in. Then I compressed the whole thing, creating a green bubble shield around Gordon and I. I hadn't even known I could do that. My instinct just took over. Something in me realized that I was standing before something dangerous.
(General P.O.V)
(An Undisclosed Location)
Deadshot's fingers drummed at his hip, a toothpick on his lips, one of its ends chewed through. The man himself was leaning by the entrance to what was meant to be the stage. A raised concrete platform overlooking the whole crowded courtyard.
To his left was the back and to his right, Kobra stood in front of the masses, the torches in the wall illuminating him as he preached to his audience.
"My Children, I come to you with a message of glorious purpose."
The pale skinned leader of the cult of the Kobra began. His voice was clearly audible as he paced a little, before two kneeling men. Deadshot felt a short-lived pang of sympathy for the poor fools. Journalists who had tried to infiltrate the cult for a juicy scoop. Then he hardened his heart. They knew the risks. Job hazards and all that.
Both shook in fear, eyes blindfolded and their mouths covered by tape. Besides that, they were dressed in Kobra uniform and had cuffs that restrained their hands behind them. The crowd of cultists, which looked to be hundreds cheered in glee.
"A mission entrusted upon us by his majestic presence. We shall bring our lord's plan to full fruition!"
Kobra continued to the elation of hundreds.
"An apotheosis, from mere humans to...gods."
He concluded, turning his eyes to the two captives.
"Do it."
He ordered the cultists standing behind him in the darkness. The cultist had a briefcase as he walked forward. Deadshot frowned. They weren't going to execute them like he had initially thought, adding more to the weirdness going on. Kobra was planning something.
In fact, after Deadshot was captured, they had kept him locked up in a room with a 24-hour surveillance. They only allowed him to go to the gym and the gun range, in order to keep up with his skills. Any contact with the outside world was not allowed. Only pictures of his daughter made their way to him, taken from a distance. It was a message as clear as day.
Any questions he had went unanswered, with Shimmer telling him, 'you will know when it's time.'
And now it seems that that time had arrived. He watched closely as the Kobra goon, placed the briefcase on a small table provided, opened it and brought out two syringes with a brown glowing liquid.
Kobra stepped up as another goon joined the first one. He then positioned himself behind both captives.
"Are you ready for ascension?"
Kobra questioned, a cruel smile spread out across his face. The prisoners begun to fidget, trying to get away.
Then the Kobra serum was injected into both of them through their necks. The change was apparent and fast. Deadshot's eyes widened under his mask.
Both captives jerked, their eyes and ears dripping with blood. The cuffs snapped off their massive wrists. Their bodies enlarged, the musculature bursting through the skin. Then that skin flaked off like a snake shedding and before long, 7 feet tall, hunched back snake-human mutants stood on the stage. They had yellow eyes, long fangs on their upper jaws and their necks flared out in a hood, like a King Kobra. A hiss escaped their mouths.
"Arise my apostles. You have been granted a new lease in life." Kobra fearlessly addressed them.
"Now bow down to your master and prove your undying loyalty."
Both mutants immediately knelt before him. The crowd went wild.
"Kobra! Kobra! Kobra!"
Kobra stood in the middle, reveling in the praise, stretching out his hands to welcome it.
'Fuck, he changed them into monsters. I need to get out of here before I go the same route too.'
Deadshot bit back a sigh. What had he gotten himself into? He now knew what Kobra had been doing and... he wanted no part it.
He spared one last glance at the megalomaniac on the stage and secured his mask before walking away, deeper into the building. Now while they were distracted, he could maybe sneak out. Escaping to Malta with his daughter didn't only sound like a really good plan, it was his only choice.
"You are not a true believer."
Shimmer noted, her and her twin brother seemingly appearing from the shadows, blocking his way.
Deadshot had his weapon trained to the middle of her forehead.
"Anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on someone who can kill you with a sponge?"
"Huh?"
The gangly teen next to Shimmer made a sound of surprise.
"He can't do that, right sis?"
Baran nudged Shimmer who stomped down on her annoyance.
"If he knows what's good for him, he will behave."
"Behave? Hahaha you clearly have no idea who you're standing before." A female voice stated, dropping from the ceiling.
"Deadshot kills, he does not behave."
"Cheshire."
Deadshot narrowed his eyes, acknowledging the assassin.
"And introducing...Black Spider everybody!"
Another voice made themselves known, announcing his entry loudly while slowly descending towards the group on a long rope strapped to the ceiling.
"What the fuck is this?"
Deadshot questioned Shimmer, no longer pretending to pay attention to the spectacle happening on the stage.
"Nothing you need to know, Floyd Lawton."
Shimmer informed him.
Deadshot narrowed his eyes. He was in full costume. Her calling him by his real name was tantamount to a threat, not to mention a sign of blatant disrespect. Deadshot's fingers jerked a little. He was feeling the itch to shoot something.
The way he glared at Shimmer made the mood tense and awkward. Sensing the aggression, Shimmer's brother, Baran raised his hands.
"H... hey now, we're all on the same side here."
"Really?" Deadshot bit out, pointing his other gun towards the teen.
"How do you figure that?"
The teen stumbled backwards.
"Whoa! whoa! whoa! Wait man! They're going to raid the Wayne Tower while you handle the Wayne mansion for the other half of the code!"
He quickly revealed. Shimmer smacked him at the back of his head, staring at him with anger and disgust.
"Sorry sis."
He responded looking away.
"Well, I guess the secret is out then."
Cheshire said with a laugh, placing a hand on her hip.
"Huh."
Deadshot did not really know what to say to that. That wasn't what he was expecting.
"Codes?"
"To a highly secure vault in the R and D department of Wayne enterprises. Bruce Wayne has half of the activation sequence we need to open it. We have the other half."
Shimmer explained, seeing no other option now that the information was out.
"You're all crazy."
Deadshot said, shaking his head. He lowered his guns and added,
"Do you have any idea the backlash we can get from this?"
"Cheshire, Black Spider and I are handling Wayne Tower, where we expect more trouble. You're with Baran and..."
"Fuck no."
Deadshot immediately refused.
"I'm leaving. You're welcome to try and stop me."
The mood got awkward again.
"So anyway, I've heard so much about you Deadshot."
Black Spider told him, landing in between him and Shimmer.
"Are you going to try and stop me?"
Deadshot ignored everyone else to address Cheshire. Out of everyone here, he considered her the biggest threat.
"If she must, she will, Deadshot!"
Shimmer interrupted, her tone angry.
"She will follow her orders to the letter, something I advise you to...
A Sai appeared at her neck.
"Never presume to think you can speak for me."
Cheshire threatened. Shimmer's heart went cold. Her gangly brother blinked in surprise before an expression of anger appeared on his face, causing him to jump at Cheshire.
"Leave her alone!"
Thwip!
He was immediately covered in webs, immobilizing him. Black Spider patted his shoulder.
"Let's stay out of it, okay buddy?"
The surroundings begun spinning as vertigo hit everyone. Deadshot groaned, stumbling a little.
"I feel like I'm gonna be sick."
Black Spider moaned, leaning a hand on the wall.
"Stop or you get another piercing. This time on the neck."
Cheshire whispered lowly from Shimmer's back, the point of her weapon digging slightly into Shimmer's skin.
"She means it."
Another voice made its presence apparent. This time the man simply walked into the backroom by using the door like a normal person.
The Vertigo disappeared and Deadshot clenched his jaw.
"Do that again and I'm sending a bullet straight through your face. That is your final warning."
He growled, throwing the toothpick he had been chewing on, straight through Shimmer's earring and onto the wall behind her. Cheshire snorted, shoving the metahuman Kobra cultist away.
Black Spider whistled, amazed at Deadshot skills.
"I can see why they all ride your dick man."
Cheshire snorted while Deadshot threw a fed up look the villain's way.
"That was impressive."
The new stranger complimented, walking into the light.
"Wow."
Deadshot was taken aback.
"What did they offer you to bring you out of retirement, Tiger?"
"A lot, I'd imagine."
Cheshire commented, twirling her weapons.
"When I was trained by the Shadows, your name was a legend. Bronze Tiger, even Shiva respects you."
She pointed the Sai at him, challengingly.
"I'm yet to see you live up to the hype."
"Cheshire. Don't."
Deadshot warned, eyes assessing the larger than life figure before them.
Bronze Tiger was dressed in a red leather jacket that was unzipped, revealing a sculpted physique. He had on tattoos in the shape of stripes across his entire midsection. A necklace made of animal teeth hang of his neck, just over a chiseled chest. Black boots on his feet, similarly black pants and a pair of gloves completed his look. His outfit complemented his brown skin well. However, the most outstanding thing happened to be the two claws on the back of his wrists.
He took a deep drag of the cigar in his hands and blew the smoke to the ceiling.
"You're confident. I like that."
He told Cheshire.
"Floyd."
Bronze Tiger nodded at Deadshot.
"Turner."
Deadshot greeted back, biting the inside of his cheek. Bronze Tiger's appearance complicated things. He couldn't really escape now. Welp, seems like plan: Flee to Malta would have to be pushed back.
"Umm...sorry to interrupt, but I have been wondering about something."
Black Spider interjected. Every eye in the room fell on him.
"Yeah, so...umm, it's an open secret that the Bat is affiliated with Wayne. Most of his stuff is built by them. What happens if he we run into him?"
Bronze Tiger stepped further into the light, a small smile on his face.
"Simple. We fight."
It would be great catching up with his fellow student.
(Davian's P.O.V)
The figure cocked their head to the side, as if finding my reaction to him a little funny. I could see his lips part underneath the hood and... nothing came out. He scowled his lips.
I sensed that he was annoyed. He reached to his back and pulled out a red cross blade. It was a long sharp thin scissor like sword, glinting in the air.
He twirled it, millions of spirit energy feelers in the shape of almost invisible strings rippling around the weapon. The energy was a dark purple. One that felt ominous.
Then he swung it my way. The air cried out at being mercilessly sliced apart. I could do nothing but buckle down as the edge of the sword slammed onto the shield. The impact was too much for the bubble shield. It immediately broke through only for the Cross blade's edge to collide with the sheath, strategically placed in front of my face just along my forearms.
The force of the clash shook me to my bones. His strength...it was overwhelming. Enough to bodily throw me away, smash past a crypt and a few gravestones. Loose soil stuck to my back as I simply laid on the groove I had scraped out with my body, staring up at the gray sky in surprise. It was hard to breath.
The attack... was so sudden and powerful. My hands could not stop shaking.
I was sure of it now. I couldn't beat this guy. He was different from any opponent I had ever faced. Speaking of which...it stung my ego that I had lost every single fight up until now, not counting the one with Croc.
It grated but at least I was spared from physical agony of getting slammed onto the ground. The pain was fleeting. One of the benefits of being in soul form was that physical pain did not seem linger, as I was finding out.
"You still cannot hear me when I talk."
A deep and mellow voice spoke up. It was almost melodic. I groaned, getting to my feet while gripping the sheath tightly. It was the only reason I wasn't dead.
"You are so pitifully weak. So... unworthy of me."
Gordon's lips moved but the voice was not his. With his eyes glowing the same familiar dark purple, it was safe to conclude that he was being controlled.
Reikaku (spirit sense) is very hard to use. And that's because it only works on people with average spirit energy. Meaning, those who can see hollows but can't necessarily control Reiryoku to give themselves combat abilities.
With those conditions and the fact that not many people could use spirit energy in this world, training it had been not exactly hard but more like stumbling in the dark and recognizing things by running your hands over them.
I would leave my sword a short distance away, cover it with a tarp, a bundle of clothes and anything else I could find and then try to sense it purely by Reikaku. Sometimes I could. It was like a pulsing node of Reiryoku. Trying to do so while on another room was the natural step up to that. I hadn't had a lot of success in that as much as the first training instance.
This was one of the rare instances that it actually worked. I couldn't seem to pull my Reiryoku out of my body but by using the sixth sense that Reikaku afforded, I could sense spirit energy signatures with little to no effort, if there was something to sense that is.
The sword in his hands had purple thin strings that converged on Gordon's chest and both of his wrists. His mouth was slack, head tilted to the side slightly.
"Let him go."
I addressed the figure, wielding the only weapon in my arsenal.
"Do it or I'll beat you to a pulp."
I growled, pointing the sheath at him. I was ready to make good on that promise too. It sickened me that this could be my Zanpakuto spirit.
Don't misunderstand, I wasn't a good guy, but there was little I valued more than freedom. Grow up like I did, get sent to prison and you'd understand why.
"Beat me to a pulp?"
Laughter escaped Gordon's mouth. The jaw was left open in an eerie manner as he turned his eyes towards me, light pouring out of facial features, his eyes bright underneath the cracked glasses.
"Let's see you try!"
Strings of purple cut through the air, whipping towards my body. I jumped back, avoiding the thousands of individual threads meant to stab through me. The ground exploded into dust, a few graves around the impact went up in a shower of dust, stone and bones. The whole section caved in.
The dust settled and I blinked.
"Oh come on."
Seven skeletons, each with purple light glowing inside its eye sockets, claimed off the hole before shambling forward in a jerky motion. They had rusted weaponry in the hands. A sword here, a spear and a huge Axe that belonged to one of the Skeletons wearing a viking's war hat. That made no sense. I thought this was supposed to be my inner world, how was it possible that he could seemingly manifest skeletal puppets anytime he wanted?
I looked past them and enquired from the source.
"Who are they?"
The figure merely smiled.
"No problem, I guess I'll beat it out of you."
I responded to his silence.
Then stretched my body, getting ready for the altercation. The first of the skeletons, came in from the side, sword raised up to slash me from top to bottom. I raised the sheath to block, then immediately saw a flash of bright light. My mind caught up with me to offer answers when I felt my back collide with a crypt.
'He detonated the skeleton puppet.'
I realized, extricating myself from the human shaped hole I had made with my body over 10 meters away from my previous position.
It seems like I had underestimated Reikaku. Even before the next attack made it through the dust blocking my view of the cemetery, I could already feel the threads of spiritual energy connecting to the second skeleton making its way to me.
I grabbed for my sheath only to feel my hand grasp onto a cold handle. My fingers wrapped themselves around a sword, taken from the dead guy in the crypt. Already I was parrying the head of a spear from the second skeleton. Then I kicked out and bone folded around my foot. My right hand was already around the sheath as this skeleton exploded as well.
It was a good strategy. Something I could see myself adopting. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't going down that easy. The dust cleared to reveal a green bubble shield around me. Rocks and stones fell on either side of it from the destroyed crypt.
My left hand was pulled back, the sword from earlier exchanged for the last skeleton's spear. 'So they explode whenever they sustain a strong blow, I can work with that.' I thought, winding up for my first true attack.
The bubble shield around me faded away and not a second later, the spear flew high and true. My target was...bad. I could point a gun and shoot really well but this was the first time ever, doing something like this.
Somehow the spear managed to stab through the Viking skeleton's war hat/helmet. The resulting explosion was glorious. Spirit energy rippled out through the surroundings, drowning the rest of the puppets under its power.
Now that I was ready, I decided to use the opening provided. Strafing to the left, I jumped over gravestones, aiming to catch him off guard as I made it closer to him.
I only needed a clear hit. Something to judge just how much he could take. My strongest punch. Like a ghost, I seemingly appeared to his left, a hand pulled back.
This close to him, I saw his lips move. Then a word escaped Gordon's mouth.
"Shikai"
Then I realized it was all a fluke. A plan to get me closer. He held his cross blade to the sky and it unraveled into a net of numerous purple Reiryoku strings around him in a grid like fashion. The grid entirely covered his front, back, center and sideways.
My heart grew cold as I brought the sheath to the front and immediately created a shield. There was a clash of energy between green and purple and I lost the bout, getting thrown through the air, the sky and ground seeming to meld together.
Until they didn't. Something wrapped itself around my limbs, restraining me and holding my body captive.
I looked down and saw the purple strings of energy around my wrist and ankles, the source being the ever present grid around his body.
"Nice try."
The puppeteered Gordon complimented. A flick of the figure's wrist and my Sheath was snatched away from me by some more materialized strings.
"That is not yours. It's mine."
He added, the sheath landing in his palm. I glared at him.
"So I guess I was right. You are my Zanpakuto spirit."
My words made him tilt his head inside the hood.
"My turn to ask questions."
He decided, and I found myself pulled towards him by the ropes. I fought, trying to move away, trying to access my spirit energy once more and failed. What I did get however was a sensation from the Sheath in his hands.
I allowed myself to be pulled closer to him. Then the Sheath in his palm let out a burst of green energy. More like a flash bang than the usual bubble shield. It wasn't enough to hurt him but it did provide me with the chance I wanted. This fight was far from over.
The strings around me, fizzled out and snapped, allowing me free reign of my body. Then I let gravity do the rest. My fist was pulled back and using what I had learned from boxing back in the day to efficiently output as much force behind my blow as I could, the fist landed smack on his left cheek with a meaty thwack!
The results could not have been more different from my expectations.
Instead of hurting him, I swallowed a cry of pain as my fingers shattered, my hand breaking badly, shards of bone peeking out of the shredded skin and flesh. Blood spilled like water from a broken faucet. I felt his hand grip my neck, however my knee was already coming up before he could find purchase.
The knee landed on his chin and agony gripped me once more. He didn't even budge. A sharp pain assaulted my leg, telling me that I had broken another limb. In one instant, the grid around us exploded with thousands of not millions of rippling strings. They combined into thick braids stabbing through me and suspending my body in the sky above him.
More blood bubbled out of my throat and sprayed out. I had dozens of braids through my back and limbs.
This pain was not fleeting. This pain was here to stay.
I felt a hand land on my chest. Straining my vision, we made eye contact and I finally managed to see more than half of his face. He had a light white fur that covered the feline face and cruel eyes that seemed to suck you in and leave you unfocused.
"Suketsu."
He mouthed the words but the voice came out of Gordon. His hand on my chest, right above where the soul chain was supposed to be, felt unbearably warm.
"I could take them all away. Your powers."
He leaned in and added,
"Maybe then... Maybe then I could be free of you. Free to change this...ugly place into my own image. All it would take is a little...Shu or Byakurai and I would carve out my own future."
The threat sent a shiver down my spine.
"So tell me, 'Oh great master' what is stopping me from doing exactly that?"
(General P.O.V)
Reiryoku is a special type of energy.
It is produced by the spirit from something called the Soul sleep. In a Shinigami, Hakusui (soul sleep) and the Saketsu are very important. The former is the source of all Reiryoku for a soul. The latter is the boost for that same spirit energy. Saketsu is basically the location of the chain of fate on someone's chest.
With the soul being made of Reishi, one can argue that Reiryoku is just personal Reishi, only exclusive to an individual while Reishi is what makes up the world of the spirits.
And taking into account the nature of Reishi to gravitate towards more of its kind to form what would constituent as physical objects from a Soul's perspective, then it would stand to reason that Reiryoku would do the same. Reiryoku would try to get back to its owner. To rejoin.
But what if that energy is then contained in a massive magical structure like the Tower of Fate? A place filled with not only magical energy but mysteries of the world. Books on Divine Magic, Spirit magic, artifact creation, sealing scriptures, ambiguous Sorcerer practices and introductory passages on Soul studies?
In that case, you wouldn't really know what to expect.
After the Batwing had left, Constantine looked around the debris and whistled.
"Aye, they did a number on you, didn't they girlie?"
He run his palm across one of the only dim torches around. A flash of yellow and the flame grew brighter, casting the whole chamber or chambers really, seeing that the hallway was no more, in low light.
"Don't worry. We'll have you fixed up in no time."
He relit his cigarette with the flame and brought it to his lips before inhaling the smoke.
"I'm going to need help for this."
He said to himself, using his leg to dislodge a picture with a broken frame.
He crouched, smoke escaping his nostrils and wiped the dust off the broken shielding glass. The picture was of Kent Nelson and a beautiful black haired woman, his wife Inza. He used to talk about her every chance he got.
"Get better sooner ya old codger, last I saw you, you weren't looking too good, mate."
Then he removed the picture inside the frame and folded it neatly before putting it inside his shirt pocket.
"Let's get started then."
He hummed, getting to his feet, about to summon Trogowogs, nasty little buggers that made an awesome cleaning crew.
Without the sheet versatility of Zatara's magic, Constantine would have to make do with them. Besides, this was more his lane. The fact that he could exorcise so well meant that he could tangentially summon well too.
"Been out of practice. I really hope I don't fuck..."
Constantine immediately stiffened, going silent as his back shivered. The torch from earlier went out and with only the light from the scar on the side of the Tower, providing a gloomy light, the whole magical building took on an ominous presence.
Constantine's hand went to his trench coat pocket.
"I don't know who you are or what you want. However, I am in a right pissy mood. So if you know what's good...for...you..."
His voice began to trail off at the end of his statement.
Constantine couldn't believe his eyes. He looked up at the softly pulsing purple light above him. The light was beautiful, in the form of concentrated smoke, it rolled around, combining with the magicks in the air, running down the walls and crevices. Reconstructing...no, healing itself. The Tower was healing itself.
Davian's spiritual energy had gone through a mutation and that mutation was so rare that not even someone as experienced as Constantine knew what he was looking at.
"Bloody hell..."
He muttered, witnessing the unprecedented event only made possible because that was the nature of magic. Unprecedented, untamable mysteries.
Then something changed. Between one blink of an eye and the next, Constantine found himself falling through the air, expelled from the Tower.
"Bloody hell!"
This time he didn't mutter, he yelled.
The last glimpse he had of the tower before it warped away from the Earthly plane was the figure of old man Kent, standing on the hole formed on its side looking out with a small smile on his face.
"She will need guidance my boy. When the time comes, guide her on how to help them."
The words reached Constantine, just as the Guardian of the Tower unraveled in a misty blue cloak of light.
"Goodbye Constantine."
(Elsewhere)
"I'm so sorry."
The doctor in charge informed a shocked Zatara.
The hospital hallways begun to feel crowded and stuffy. How...how could he...oh the doctor is explaining.
"He was an old man."
The middle aged medical professional told him with a sad and smile.
"Well past his prime. Maybe it was his time to rest. I would rather take what's up there, than what goes on down here any day."
Zatara looked up at the green eyed doctor.
"Christian?"
He questioned.
"Catholic."
She corrected, waving away the expected apology.
"I don't really mind the distinction; we all serve one lord."
Zatara smiled and thanked her, excusing himself as his mind refused to stay focused. He needed air, time to think away from the crowded halls.
He sat on a bench and just covered his face with both of his hands. Kent was dead. Gone. Passed away in his sleep. It was unexpected but Zatara knew that wearing the helmet at Kent's age was a risk.
He might not have gone out the way he wanted but...
"I know you tried to fight him off, old friend. Thank you for everything."
Zatara sent a prayer for his soul, rubbing the cross on his neck.
Now to inform the League and the few members of the Justice Society still alive. Diana would be heartbroken.
(Constantine)
The cold Salem air beat on him as he approached the ground at a high velocity. Constantine would be the first to admit he would normally scream while in such a situation but his heart had grown cold with one realization.
Kent Nelson was dead.
He knew a cryptic farewell when he heard one. Unfortunately, being John Constantine meant he lost very many people.
The ground seemed to be ascending very fast to meet him.
The British exorcist closed his eyes and contemplated not saving himself, getting the freedom he so fervently desired from the troubles of existence. Like the coward he was however, Constantine tapped his breast pocket 3 times.
"Mother of Luck, mother of chance, mother of risk, Flying carpet manifest!"
His trench coat changed form into an Arabian styled carpet that enabled him to float down to the ground at reduced speeds.
The carpet landed on the grassy field that the tower of Fate had occupied previously. Constantine made an annoyed sound as he looked up at the empty sky. The Tower of Fate was nowhere to be seen.
It had warped away.
"And with it Kent's gone too."
John told himself as he stepped off the carpet and watched it be devoured by pink flames, dissolving into the air silently. Unfortunately calling on the mother of three faces, a god of Mongolian mythos meant that whatever he invoked her name on would be sacrificed.
John looked at the spot with the ashes of his trench coat.
"That was my favorite one."
He sighed before patting his pants.
"Got my smokes at least."
The cocky smile from before was nowhere to be seen however.
Constantine felt his phone buzz on the back pocket of his pants and closed his eyes, pinching the brow below his forehead.
He knew who it was. Sure enough, Batman's caller I.D appeared on the screen.
"Fuck. Me."
(Elsewhere)
The mood around them carried a general air of sadness.
Despite that, Bruce knew Alfred was fed up with his obsessive behavior on the case he was dealing with. It was an old game of theirs, Batman would get lost trying to save a mystery and Alfred would call him out on it.
"She has been constantly watching over him for the last week. Reading to him."
Alfred informed Batman. Or rather Bruce Wayne as his cowl was off, revealing a handsome but tired face.
"Mmmh."
Bruce hummed, tapping away at the controls of the huge Bat computer. Alfred frowned.
"Sir, should I remind you that you're expected at the fundraiser to rebuild the Gotham city docks in 10 minutes?"
Bruce blinked, pausing in place.
"Wait, that's today?"
He asked in a confused tone.
Alfred placed the tray on his hands at the table between Batman and the dozens of terminals before his eyes.
"You have exhibited highly reckless behavior, Master Bruce."
The British butler told him off.
"Not only have you not showered for 2 days, you haven't had a wink of sleep over a similar time period. You are running yourself rugged. Gotham needs a Batman who is well rested. But more than that, it needs Bruce Wayne."
He finished his rant with an unimpressed expression on his face.
Bruce winced slightly at the accusing tone.
"I know Alfred."
He sighed, a glint of determination appearing in his vision.
"But I can't help it. His D.N.A... it's completely human. How is this possible? If he was a metahuman, I would've detected the gene. If he was alien, a chi practitioner... something would have stood out. Yet...to the best of my knowledge... he's a normal human being."
"I don't believe blowing up the entire Ace chemical building constituents as normal sir."
Alfred replied, referencing a news report from a few years back on one of the screens. Batman had come to the conclusion that Davian had been responsible.
Not only that but he had a strange connection with Jim Gordon as well. His old friend had known the Kid. Batman intended to pass by Gordon's office and do some more digging.
'There's more than meets the eye to this.'
Bruce thought, staring at one terminal that displayed Davian's room where he was hooked to different monitoring machines.
Next to him, Raven sat on the small seat, legs folded on her lap while reading a book. She was narrating it to Davian.
"Mmmh... something about that location."
Bruce rubbed his jaw, thinking about Alfred's comment.
The Old Butler raised an eyebrow before scowling slightly.
"He's gone."
Alfred told him with finality.
"How can you be so sure?"
The detective asked the butler.
"Because it's been almost a decade. Most ghosts from your past try to come back earlier for revenge. The Red Hood is dead, Master Bruce. Don't overthink this."
Bruce nodded but said nothing else.
"On other matters sir, when are you informing our lovely miss Roth about the sad news of Kent's passing? The funeral is less than a week."
Alfred's tone underwent a sadder and serious change.
Bruce sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. Maybe Alfred was right. Maybe he needed a break.
"Soon Alfred. Soon."