Rise of X

by Son of The Jester

In the unforgiving world of superpowered battles, Xander, a Metahuman born and bred for combat, seizes his chance at freedom. Upon tasting the sweet nectar of freedom he seizes upon the moniker of Red X to mark his liberation. As he carves his brutal path, invisible powers start tearing apart the fabric of reality itself, setting the stage for a tumultuous and unpredictable journey

6. Sanguinis Promissa Gloria: Part One

Start of Arc:

Sanguinis Promissa Gloria

Part One:

A Pyrrhic Victory is, Nonetheless a Victory

Seven months have flowed like a relentless river since the dark dance with the Raven and Aqualad, seven months of relentless monomaniacal effort and ceaseless preparation. The world has become his playground, a vast chessboard of pawns and allies, weapons and technology, and the elusive mystic artifacts he needs. Now, the stage is set, and his mad games can begin.

Atop a towering skyscraper, cloaked in the golden embrace of the afternoon sun, stands Red X, a mountain of willpower and might. His new suit, a marvel of armored elegance, resonates with an aura of dark majesty that the world below will so come to know.

Five months of tireless work have birthed this masterful creation. Red X's new armor is a testament to his relentless determination, a darker, more formidable manifestation of his elusive presence. Gone are the tattered remnants of his old attire, replaced by a suit that exudes a sense of ominous power.

This version of the suit is not merely a cosmetic upgrade; it's a practical masterpiece. The armor has been reinforced, offering him enhanced protection and a more imposing presence on the battlefield. The shadows seem to dance with an extra layer of dread, the very essence of his being intensified. Crimson accents adorn the suit, like rivulets of blood tracing the contours of his form. They create a stark contrast against the black canvas, splashes of dark vitality against the shadowy backdrop. They are like sanguine echoes, whispers of power and untamed spirit. His black utility belt, ever the tool of his trade, encircles his waist with a bold red X-shaped buckle. It's a symbol of defiance, a brand of rebellion in the face of a relentless world.

Gone is the simplicity of his previous attire. The mask that once concealed his identity has given way to a menacing visage. A slim metal helmet, forged from unknown obsidian metal, now encases his entire head, shrouding him in an intimidating aura. On its front, a white half-skull gleams with a macabre delight, as if mocking the very essence of death. The skull's stark, alabaster features are the canvas upon which an eerie, blood-red X is boldly painted, an emblem of his identity that strikes fear into those who dare to face him.

But what captures the eye most are the golden vambraces that encase both of his arms. They are not only ornamental; they are a tool of war, a reflection of his power. The glistening metal shines in the sun's embrace, an affirmation of his resilience and strength. These are the instruments of a phantom who dances on the precipice of peril.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

Today, Metropolis pulsates with life as the sun graces the city's skyline. The Annual Metropolis Science Expo is in full swing, a testament to the ingenuity of the human spirit. Crowds swarm the streets, while cutting-edge tech glistens in the pavilions below. Amidst this midday fervor, Xander perches on the rooftop of a nearby building, surveying the scene like a maestro before a symphony.

The expo is a monument to human innovation, a testament to the boundless possibilities of human intellect and ambition. People from all walks of life, their faces illuminated by the marvels of science, navigate the bustling streets with a sense of wonder. The air is alive with the hum of conversations, laughter, and the subtle undercurrent of intrigue.

At his side is Rose Wilson, known to the world as Ravager. Her countenance, half-shrouded by a mask, veils azure orbs as cool as moonlit waters, reflecting the untamed tempest coursing within. She is the silent tempest made flesh, a warrior born of strife, yet amidst the storm, she's an ethereal beauty, untouched by the chaos. Their synergy unfolds like a ballet of contradictions — Xander's playful charm kindles the tension, a spark igniting the abyss, while beneath Rose's aloof facade, veiled by disdain, she strives to douse the flames.

With a flirtatious grin, Xander turns toward Rose. "You look absolutely radiant today, Tsundere-Tan."

Rose Wilson, known for her razor-sharp skills and her icy demeanor, narrows her eyes with a hint of annoyance. "Don't call me that, Xander. You know I hate it."

Xander leans closer, mischief glittering in his eye, and teases, "You know you love it when I call you that, Tsundere-Tan."

Their relationship dances on the precipice of attraction and conflict, a dynamic that's persisted for longer Rose would care to admit. Xander revels in the push and pull, knowing full well that Rose's initial hostility masks something more complicated beneath.

Rose levels him with a withering glare. "One of these days, Xander, I'm going to use my sword on that smart mouth of yours."

Xander chuckles, unruffled by her hostility. "Come on, Tsundere-Tan, don't be like that. We're about to pull off the heist of the century."

They are here for a specific purpose—to rob the largest science convention on the planet in the most well protected city on said planet. Xander's plan is complex, and he's more than aware of the danger they face by going against the Kryptonian defenders of the city. Rose is quick to voice her concerns, her tone dripping with annoyance. "I'm not thrilled about potentially having to deal with Superman or his cousins. You better have a good plan for this."

Xander's voice is as smooth as silk, laced with a confidence that bordered on insanity. "Oh, my dear Rose, your cynicism is just part of your charm. And as for this 'heist of the century,' it's going to go off without a hitch."

Rose's gaze remains fixated on the expo, a mix of anticipation and anxiety. "I could do without risking the whole 'meeting the invincible alien Gods' thing. They give me the creeps."

Xander, cerulean eye smoldering with a madness on the verge of engulfing him, lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I've prepared for every eventuality. I have a whole deck aces up my sleeve. Rose, my dear, have no fear; Gods or mortals, they are all pieces on my board, part of my grand game. Nothing will go wrong."

He reaches into a concealed compartment on his utility belt and pulls out a compact device, a teleportation belt adorned with the emblem of Red X. With a casual gesture, he hands it to Rose. "Take this. It's your way to move around without alerting any earthbound gods."

"He's fearless, or perhaps insane, to see this as a game. I can't fathom how he can approach it with such reckless abandon," Rose's thoughts churn with disbelief as Xander casually discusses the upcoming confrontation with Kryptonians as if it were some exhilarating game. His utter lack of fear or respect for these godlike beings strikes her as the height of insanity. With a jaw-dropping sense of audacity, he speaks of outsmarting and outmaneuvering them, a glint of mischievous delight in his sole visible eye. Her mind echoes with incredulity, wondering how someone could be so recklessly confident in the face of such overwhelming power. To her, it's not a game; it's a death sentence waiting to be carried out by beings with power beyond mortal comprehension.

Rose attaches the belt to her suit, her finger lightly tracing the intricate design etched onto it. "Fine. Let's get this job over with. The sooner, the better."

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

In a whirl of crimson and ebony, Red X materializes within the sprawling Metropolis Science Expo. His entrance, a calculated dance of technology and daring, deposits him in the heart of the S.T.A.R. Labs section. Here, among the humming devices of human ingenuity and Metahuman innovation, he arrives with purpose.

Three guards, stalwart sentinels of order, are the first to confront this intruder. With unwavering resolve, they step forward to intercept the enigmatic figure, but their dedication to duty becomes their ultimate downfall. Red X, a silent wraith, moves with the precision of a cold-hearted professional. His every motion is a testament to ruthless efficiency. Bodies crumple like discarded marionettes, unconscious and powerless before his calculated onslaught. The crowd, once a bustling sea of curiosity, now becomes a maelstrom of chaos as panic surges through its very core.

The Expo's atmosphere undergoes a dramatic transformation. What was once a celebration of human achievement is now a cacophony of fear. Panic spreads through the crowd like a relentless tide, an intangible wave of apprehension that surges through the throngs of startled onlookers.

Red X's movements are fluid and decisive as he races toward the coveted prize—the Metahuman Suppression Collar, a creation of immense power capable of subduing even the most formidable super-powered beings. The black, metallic fingers of his cybernetic left arm close around the cold, crystalline lattice of the MSC, and it shimmers ominously in his grasp. It's a device that could tip the scales of power in the world, and Red X understands its significance all too well. Without wasting a moment, he teleports the collar back to his safe house, leaving nothing but a chilling void in its place. The crowd erupts into a maelstrom of panic, the promise of devastation sowing chaos in its wake.

The Metropolis Science Expo, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, stands as a monument to human achievement. Its grandeur, however, is eclipsed by the arrival of the Man of Steel. With a crack of thunder heralding an impending storm, the celestial titan descends from the heavens, a symbol of hope and power, his very presence altering the dynamics of the day. The air shivers under the weight of Superman's arrival, a palpable shift that radiates through the crowd.

His cape, a billowing crimson swath of authority, flutters behind him, a majestic banner of unyielding power. The crowd gazes upward, their faces illuminated by awe and trepidation, as their collective breath catches in their throats. The world's champion, an icon of virtue and valor, has graced them with his presence.

Superman's eyes, like twin sapphires, fixate upon the unstable thief, a gaze that could pierce the heavens and discern truth from deception. His voice, a deep, authoritative rumble, reverberates through the expo grounds, as if the very earth itself recognizes the gravity of his words. People scatter like frightened birds, their panicked cries and chaotic movements creating a backdrop for the impending clash of titans. His words, a call to justice, resonate with an unshakable certainty.

"Red X, you're a long way from Jump City," he says, a tone that brooks no argument, a symphony of power in every syllable. Those who bear witness to this confrontation feel the weight of his righteousness, a force that can move mountains. The Metropolis skyline, usually a haven of tranquility, stands as a testament to his unyielding presence. "Return the Metahuman Suppression Collar and surrender."

Superman, the embodiment of morality and heroism, stands resolute in his duty, a pillar of unwavering strength against the chaos that threatens. He requests, rather than demands, a course of action that Red X would do well to heed. The remnants of the crowd watch, their breaths held in a collective anticipatory pause.

Red X, his mask concealing his expressions, adopts a relaxed posture as he leans against a nearby exhibit stand. His smirk remains hidden beneath the mask, but a gleam of defiance glimmers in his eyes. "Or what, Superman; you'll fuckin' nag me about morality and righteousness until I surrender? That would be lame as shit."

He waves a gloved finger in mock chastisement, savoring the moment as he engages in this dangerous verbal dance with the Man of Steel. "Supes, you're no fun at all." His words are laced with a playful, almost taunting cadence, each syllable a reminder of the irreverent spirit that defines Red X. Hidden behind the skull-faced helmet, his smirk remains a well-kept secret, but the mischievous gleam in his voice is impossible to miss.

"But I've got an offer for you," Red X continues, the air charged with a sense of impending excitement. "How about we make this interesting? Let's play a little game. Here's my proposal: we turn this into a little contest of cat and mouse. I must evade you for a full 5 minutes; I get a 30-second head start, and you, the Man of Steel, will try to catch me. But, of course, there are some ground rules." The challenge is set, a daring gambit in the midst of chaos.

Red X's gloved fingers tick off the conditions one by one, his voice dripping with sly charm.

"First, no speed blitzing, Supes. We must make it a fair chase, for where's the thrill in an easy victory? Second, you'll have to limit yourself to using just 15% of your formidable power. Again, we must keep it interesting. And here's the kicker, if any of these rules are violated, poof, I'll be automatically teleported away, and you'll bear the responsibility of my escaping with some exceedingly dangerous tech. Oh, and don't you worry one teeny bit, I may not be able keep up with your speed, but my suit's AI sure as fuck can."

Red X, with a devilish grin, revels in the opportunity to tease the Man of Steel. His cyber-eye, shrouded by the new mask, dances with a mechanical glint. His voice, a smooth blend of charm and mockery, paints the scene with shades of exhilarating audacity.

Red X adds one final touch, a flourish of drama that punctuates the offer. With a grand sweep of his arm, he raises his right hand, palm outstretched toward Superman. "If you win," he proclaims with a devil-may-care audacity, "I'll teleport the MSC back and willingly accompany you to prison." He then raises his left arm, his hand, sleek, metallic, and obsidian is palm up; a glowing red circle appears in its center. "On the other hand, if I win, I will still return the MSC, but I get to go free." The fates of imprisonment versus freedom hang in the balance. Red X's final question lingers in the charged air. "What do you say, Supes? Are you up for the challenge?"

From Red X's left palm, a holographic display is projected. It has two timers, the first for 30 seconds and the other for 5 minutes.

Now a 'safe' distance away, beyond the invisible barrier of potential destruction, the expo-goers find themselves trapped in a dichotomy of emotions. Their eyes are drawn inexorably toward the epic clash about to transpire, caught between fascination and fear. The Metropolis Science Expo, once a luminous showcase of innovation and human achievement, now stands as the dramatic backdrop for a high-stakes confrontation, a stage where the aspirations of mankind are pitted against the uncertainty of superhuman conflict. The air thrums with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing the suspense that hangs over the scene, as if the very city itself holds its breath in collective wonder and apprehension.

In the midst of this bold challenge, Superman, the embodiment of unwavering virtue, pauses to engage in an unexpected dialogue, a brief respite before the storm. A smile graces Superman's lips, a benevolent expression that holds both understanding and compassion, like a mentor speaking to a wayward student. His voice, resonating with an almost fatherly concern, cuts through the tension of the moment, its authoritative timbre calming the turbulent waters of uncertainty.

The crowd watches with a mixture of awe and trepidation, knowing that they stand witness to a clash of colossal proportions, where ideals and ethics will clash as much as superhuman abilities. Some hold their breath; while others exchange hushed whispers.

Superman's voice, despite the hint of a chuckle, carries the gravity of his position as a defender of truth and justice. "You know, the Titans provided us with quite a comprehensive rundown of their encounters with you, your impressive abilities and your... unpredictable actions." There's an unspoken respect in his tone, an acknowledgment of the formidable powers that Red X holds. The Kryptonian hero's eyes shimmer with a deep understanding of the complex character standing before him.

Red X, confident behind his mask, tilts his head mockingly, "Glad to know I have fans." A moment of tension passes before he continues with a sardonic inflection, "In case you haven't heard, Supes, I'm not some dumbshit boy scout. Besides aren't you supposed to be the beacon of truth and justice? Of course, I kill criminals. I'm not a hero; I don't need to take half-measures. I'm not bound by some petty morality… there are no strings on me."

Superman's brows furrow, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "I can't condone the taking of lives, Red X. No matter what side of the law you stand on."

Red X's response is dismissive, his cruelty veiled by a veneer of indifference. "Hero, villain, it's all a matter of perspective," he retorts, his tone dripping with a disdainful detachment from moral categorization. "I'm not interested in being a hero for 'normal people,'" he sneers, his disdain evident in the derogatory term, the phrase implying a sense of detachment and superiority. "To me, they're just protozoa, useless distractions in the grand game of life," he adds, his perspective reflecting the indifference of a higher being observing lesser creatures.

Red X, while flippant, still carries a sting in his response. "I don't care what you like or dislike. I'm not in the business of making people like me. I'm here to have my fun," he scoffs, his contempt for the weak of world evident in his dismissive words.

A shiver of madness dances in Red X's eye, a gleam of recklessness that threatens to unravel the very fabric of his sanity. Superman, the stalwart guardian of Earth, can sense it, and he knows the danger of letting this madness grow unchecked. He also recognizes that the young man in front of him has, despite his feelings towards them, has never purposely caused harm to an innocent person.

'Quite the contrary actually; in the seven months since Red X disappeared from Jump he's helped several people, going so far as to wipe out a human trafficking ring in East Europe; Tim and Roy had been meticulously tracking his every move. At least to the best of their ability, Red X was good, impossibly so. Not even Bruce would be able to cover his tracks this well; which means one thing… Red X has a support network that has the capabilities of competing with the resources of the Justice League.'

"All right, Red X, I'll humor you this time. You didn't hurt those guards too badly, and you've got a reputation for not causing harm to innocent people." The Man of Steel's voice is tinged with a sense of understanding. It's as if he's trying to reach out to the rogue, to find some common ground in their adversarial relationship.

He continues, his gaze unwavering, "But don't think you've escaped the Justice League's attention. We're keeping a close eye on you."

Red X, far from intimidated, wears a wicked grin, his eyes shimmering with a dangerous glint his tone now laced with savage amusement, responds, "Oh, Supes, you think that scares me? I'd be more than happy to take on all challengers. Those that want to test me, I welcome."

The city below watches in a mixture of awe and trepidation as the two titans, one born from the depths of virtue and the other from the chaos of unpredictability, prepare to engage in this thrilling and perilous game. The countdown begins, the timer for Red X's 30-second head start. The moment the timer starts, he has called forth his Divine Lightning Aura, which in these seven months that have passed he had trained to increase his speed 10x; allowing him to travel at just under Mach a flurry of golden lightning, Red X vanishes.

And then the chase commences a duel that will etch its memory into the annals of Metropolis' history.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

Red X's head start is over. He crouches low on the rooftop, his obsidian and scarlet suit shimmering in the sunlight, his vibrant blue eye focused on the holographic timer projected on his helmets HUD.

5:00… Superman, the embodiment of heroism and power, launches into the chase with a speed that defies human comprehension. His crimson cape trails behind him like a comet's tail, a regal banner that flutters as he converges on the initial location of his prey. The first second of the chase is an overture of velocity, a dance of pursuit that would be imperceptible to ordinary eyes.

4:59… As the Man of Steel hurtles forward, Red X's cunning plot unfurls. Two towering air units, once innocuous in appearance, reveal their sinister purpose. With a mere though, the colossal sonic cannons activate, discharging waves of destructive sound. The shockwaves of their terrible power ripple through the air, the sheer power of the sonic assault slams into Superman like a tidal wave of dissonance. The Man of Steel's world trembles as he's engulfed in a maelstrom of sound. His form wavers, and his trajectory falters. Sonic pressure waves hammer into him, forcing him to his knees.

4:58… A rush of energy surges through Red X, a symphony of feral might and electrical speed. The electrifying aura of his Divine Lightning courses through his veins and arcs over his armor, every muscle and sinew primed for action. The world explodes into motion. With an otherworldly grace, Red X vanishes from his perch and in the blink of an eye he's gone; a nimble bolt of lightning dancing across Metropolis' rooftops.

4:57… Superman, his senses returning as the sonic assault dissipates, clenches his fists in determination. He rises from his knees, his formidable willpower propelling him forward, fully recovered from the sonic onslaught. The cityscape blurs past him as he resumes the pursuit, his sapphire gaze locked onto Red X.

Their collision is a ballet of power and prowess, two titans clashing in a dance of destiny. Red X, his crimson and ebony form propelled by Divine Lightning, launches an assault that greatly surpasses the limits of human ability. His strikes are relentless, a flurry of calculated blows, but they land with an impact that feels inconsequential against the invulnerable frame of the Kryptonian hero. Each punch, a testament to Red X's indomitable will, ricochets like raindrops against a mountain. If not for his enhanced durability and healing factor, his right hand would have been turned into a bloody stump.

Superman, the unyielding embodiment of virtue, absorbs Red X's attacks with an unwavering composure. The blows land with enough force to cleave through a human body, yet the Kryptonian hero remains unaffected. His eyes, twin sapphires of resolute determination, remain locked on his elusive quarry. The Man of Steel's fist, a blur of crimson and azure, surges toward Red X.

4:55… The first punch, a force of nature itself, should have collided with Red X's hulking form, but the thief dances with finesse and grace. Despite his massive frame, he proves to be as quick as a shadow and as nimble as a panther, his movements like poetry in the frenzy of battle. A sidestep here, a twist there, his body a fluid trail of gold lightning, and he avoids the devastating blow by the merest fraction of an inch. The way he evades Superman's attacks is a mesmerizing dance of precision. He dodges every punch, every grab, and every burst of heat vision with a fraction of a hair's breadth to spare.

4:52… Red X, his movements an intricate display of grace and evasion shifts his body with preternatural agility. His armor-clad form contorts with uncanny speed, and he narrowly avoids an explosive punch by a hair's breadth; as he does he lashes out with a kick to Superman's head. No effect; as one should expect.

A powerful fist, faster than the human eye can follow, snakes toward Red X, a motion of righteous fury. The air ripples around the punch as it seeks to make contact; the Man of Steel's titanic punch collides with nothing but the dissipating wind. Each of Superman's attacks finds nothing but empty air and untouchable shadows. Red X's evasion is breathtaking display of quick and strategic brilliance. The rooftop, their current arena, trembles beneath the ferocity of their clash.

4:50 Red X, with a nimble grace that defies the limits of human agility, surges forward to evade Superman's powerful blows. The air vibrates with their movements, the battle's cadence a testament to the unparalleled speed of these two superhumans. Red X moves with a calculated precision, an artful dance that sidesteps the lethal thrusts of Superman's power.

Red X, in the very act of evading, seizes the opportune moment to unleash his own counterattacks. Each strike, a golden storm of crimson and ebony, lands against the indomitable form of the Man of Steel. Superman, aware of the absence of danger in Red X's physical blows, remains unyielding. He doesn't block or dodge the attacks; instead, he endures them, a rock against the relentless tide of Red X's assault. Superman, his expression a mask of determination, finds himself striking nothing but empty space.

3:58… Superman his determination unshaken, charges forth like a tempest of crimson and azure; his fist, like a crashing meteorite, threaten to rend the very air as it seek its mark. Yet, just as his fist seems destined to connect with the crafty rogue, Red X vanishes with the quickness of a bolt of divine lightning. The punch lands not on his intended target but upon the wall, right in the center of a red X plastered there. A shockwave of kinetic energy reverberates through the structure, sending tremors through the very foundations of the building.

For a heartbeat, the surface remains pristine, an unmarred symbol that taunts the Man of Steel. But in the next moment, a sinister transformation takes place. The X, erupts into a sticky mass of goo, a trap concealed in long in advance. The mass unfurls like a carnivorous maw, hungry for the intruder, and in its tenacious grasp, even the Kryptonian behemoth finds himself momentarily ensnared.

3:56… Red X, taking full advantage of this sudden respite, does not linger. In the span of seconds that stretches between heartbeats, he escapes to the top of the Daily Planet.

3:51… Superman's heart races with urgency as he soars towards the Daily Planet, a streak of red and blue amidst the gleaming Metropolis skyline. He doesn't harbor any belief that Red X has sinister intentions towards Lois Lane, but he knows all too well the devastating potential of collateral damage when superhuman battles erupt in the heart of the city. His mission is twofold: to protect Lois and to ensure that the city remains unscathed in the wake of this extraordinary clash.

3: 50… Yet, before the Man of Steel can reach his beloved's side, catastrophe strikes with a force that shatters the very foundation of the Metropolis skyline. An object, hurtling through the sky at an incredible velocity, collides with the Kryptonian's form. The impact is a cataclysmic explosion of force, a shockwave that radiates outward with destructive might. The very air trembles in response, and the windows of nearby buildings shatter like fragile glass, a testament to the sheer power of the impact.

Superman, that symbol of indomitable strength and unyielding power, is sent hurtling through the sky like a meteoroid fallen from the cosmos. Amidst the tumult of his rapid descent, a chorus of explosions rips through the rooftop of the Daily Planet. Each detonation, a thunderous symphony of chaos, echoes with menace. The cacophony, like a sinister overture, reverberates through the air, threatening to herald a cataclysmic crescendo of chaos and destruction. Superman's superhuman form is sent hurtling toward a nearby rooftop, a titanic force driving him downwards. The building rushes up to meet him, the world a blur of motion and chaos. As he lands, the rooftop surface beneath him buckles with his presence. The acrid scent of smoke and the flicker of flames assail his senses, a stark contrast to the blue skies above.

Amidst the flames and debris, he spots a metal sphere, its size akin to a tennis ball. The object appears unassuming, yet its significance is undeniable. His atomic vision immediately scans it, "Volatile Promethium… Red X indeed has impressive connections."

Amidst the cacophony of chaos and awe, Superman's acute senses prick at the whispers of disaster above. Explosions! Not the sound of heroics but chaos and upheaval. He turns his gaze upward, toward the pinnacle of journalism, the Daily Planet.

The legendary edifice atop the building, the iconic globe that has witnessed decades of Metropolis history, is consumed by fiery explosions. A symphony of chaos unfolds as sparks and debris rain down upon the city streets. The structure quakes as if in protest against the relentless assault. The once-stalwart globe, the timeless guardian of truth and knowledge, appears to crumble beneath the weight of calamity.

Time becomes a fluid entity as Superman, the guardian of Metropolis, launches into action with a burst of power. He's a crimson and cerulean blur, a streak of determination, as he surges forward. The rooftop trembles beneath his mighty leap, and he reaches the precipice just as the massive globe teeters, as if on the brink of an inexorable fall.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

3:49… In the pulsating heart of Metropolis, amidst the towering behemoths of steel and concrete, Red X finds himself outside the sprawling labyrinth of a nearby power plant. The city throbs with its own life, the electric heartbeat of Metropolis manifesting in the shadow of humming generators and transformers. Here, within the metallic jungle, he commences his techno-wizardry, weaving a complex web of control over the city's vital infrastructure. His gloved fingers move with a balletic precision, caressing a control panel adorned with an array of displays, dials, and switches that glimmer like distant stars.

Prophet, the loyal AI companion who resides within the depths of his nanite infused brain, stirs to life. Its voice emerges like a mellifluous symphony, a wise Korean butler offering its digital wisdom. "Master Xander, an incoming call from 'Jack' has been detected," Prophet announces with a tone that reveres the connection.

Red X, ensnared in the siren song of his preparations, responds with a curt yet decisive acknowledgment. "Patch him through."

Moments later, a lively and exuberant voice shatters the quietude of the power plant, a stark contrast to the machinery's mechanical hum. "Hey there, Red X! Long time no see!"

"Sorry, Jack, but my schedule is a tad tight at the moment," Red X replies, his tone equally playful but carrying the weight of urgency. "What's going on?"

"Xander, you pulchritudinous fox! I've been making the world my playground, as always!" Jack's voice remains as effervescent as ever, a carefree melody within the chaos of their world. Faint echoes of a bustling casino, animated conversations, and the cheerful clinking of casino chips can be heard in the background. With a mischievous flair, he adds, "You know, it's a damn shame you're missing out on all the good times; booze, money, alcohol, hookers, liquor, drugs, and of course potations!"

Jack, with a playfulness that borders on reckless abandon, continues, "Now, about that package of yours. You know I don't disappoint, buddy! It should be with you soon. It's something special, I promise. It's for sure, almost guaranteed, to more than likely, help in your stupid-ass mission… probably."

Red X's gloved hands continue their intricate dance with the trap he's constructing. "Good to know. And what's the word on the progress of the plan?" he inquires, his voice a blend of curiosity and impatience.

Jack's response, buoyant and carefree, carries an air of confidence despite the rough circumstances. "Well, I won't sugarcoat it, buddy, it's a bit of a hot mess right now; y'know, fucked up. The mangy sheriff's been as stubborn as a mule, but don't you worry that toned, supple ass of yours; I have no doubts that we'll get him to see things our way. After all, you look like you come straight out of some folktale about a giant, fight-sexual barbarian, Reddy-boy!"

The echo of laughter from the mysterious 'Jack' rings in Red X's ear, an undercurrent of camaraderie in the chaos of their plot. But the thief knows the chase is about to resume, and he's quick to respond, a thrill of anticipation coursing through him.

"Jack, it's been a blast, but I've got to run," Red X conveys a sense of mirth, his voice betraying an electric eagerness; "It looks like our friend from the stars about to be here to kick the shit outta me. We'll catch up later."

"Remember, Xander, quick and nimble! Catch you on the flip side, buddy!" With those words of parting, Red X severs the connection and prepares himself for the tempest that's about to descend upon him.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

3:29… Red X's gaze is drawn to a particular piece of equipment that rests beside the console he's been working on. It's an X-shaped claw connected to a long, thick cable, a serpentine lifeline that feeds directly into the heart of the city's power grid. This isn't just a tool; it's a weapon, an instrument of absolute disruption.

He reaches for the X-shaped claw, the timer still counting down in the corner of his HUD. A glint of temerity gleams in his eye as he prepares for what's to come. Superman, a blazing comet of scarlet and azure, surges forward with unstoppable determination; his course is unwavering, and the air shivers under his formidable velocity. His plan is clear - to confront Red X head-on, to bring the rogue to justice.

The air, stirred by his arrival, trembles with the force of his approach; his hands, two thunderous fists, remain poised to strike with the inexorable might of a celestial deity. The world watches with bated breath as the titan of virtue hurtles forward, the velocity of his flight unfathomable.

Red X, undeterred by the incoming threat, swiftly retrieves the tool he needs; his gloved fingers close around the claw's handle, and his mind is aflame as it runs through several simulations of the impending clash. There is a stark confidence in his stance, a refusal to falter in the face of an unstoppable force. He does not dodge. He does not retreat. His defiance remains unwavering.

The impact occurs with a force that could shatter mountains. To Superman's astonishment, the impact is not met with resistance or force; instead, it is met with an eerie softness. The area he hits, the center of Red X's chest, undergoes a transformation that defies explanation. A shimmering silver barrier emerges, its surface adorned with a complex honeycomb pattern.

The force of the Kryptonian's blows is absorbed by the silver lattice, vanishing into the very heart of the iridescent barrier. The barrier absorbs the cataclysmic force with an ease that seemingly defies the laws of physics. What follows is a swift, violent expulsion of the energy absorbed, now redirected with a savage intensity. The shockwave radiates from the point of impact, a surge of sheer force that smashes into the Man of Steel like a raging tsunami.

The devastating power of Superman's own attack, a force that should have shattered mountains and tamed oceans, now surges back with unrelenting fury. It sends him hurtling backward through the air, disoriented and overwhelmed.

3:27… In a dazzling burst of speed, Red X dashes forward. His movements are a blur of ebony and crimson as he closes the distance between himself and the recovering Superman. The ebon claw, his prized weapon, extends from its place in his right hand with a metallic hiss, its gleaming black surface reflecting the chaotic landscape. In the blink of an eye, Red X's armored form is upon the Kryptonian hero.

Superman's world is awash with chaos, his senses reeling, when he feels a vice-like grip envelop his head. Red X's claw latches onto Superman's visage; with a merciless wrench, the claw secures its hold. The burning gold of Red X's eye meets the disoriented gaze of Superman, and for a fleeting instant, there's a connection between the two. Superman, despite his invulnerability, can feel a pang; Red X has shown himself to be more or less as crafty as a member of the Bat-Family.

3:26… In an instant, Red X is transformed into a bolt of living lightning, a tenebrous streak of vermillion and gold that shoots forward at supersonic speeds. The air itself seems to tremble as he accelerates, his movements an ecstatic blur.

And then, the world around Superman transforms into a crucible of agony. The very air throbs with a malevolent surge as the entire power grid discharges a relentless torrent of electricity. His vision fractures into a kaleidoscope of agony, as the Metropolis City Power Grid is channeled into a nightmarish current, with his skull as its conductor.

3:24… Centennial Park, once vibrant with the sun's embrace, now languishes in an eerie midday twilight. The city has fallen into a deep slumber, devoid of the power that fuels its lifeblood. In the midst of this surreal landscape stands Red X, his gleaming azure eye surveys the city, savoring the profound stillness that has befallen it.

Prophet, Red X's ever-watchful AI, suddenly interjects into this surreal scene. "Master X, you have an incoming call from Ms. Wilson."

Rose's voice, cold and efficient, cuts to the heart of the matter. "I'm ready."

Without preamble, without pleasantries, she confirms her readiness with stark efficiency, and with a swift movement, she ends the call.

Red X's manic laugher resonates through the eerie stillness. The sun above, shining with unfazed indifference, looks down upon the scene, and the world watches with bated breath. His voice, a symphony of mockery and excitement, reverberates through the park. "Finally, the real game can start."

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

3:19… Superman, the Man of Steel, appears before Red X in a breathtaking blur of speed. His presence is like a tempest, a living force of nature that imposes itself upon the world. With the resolute power of a true hero, the Kryptonian uncoils, delivering a thunderous right uppercut, a motion that could shatter mountains.

Red X, his cerulean eye a tempest of determination beneath the ominous mask, meets the impending collision with a serene readiness. He brings his arms up, forearms pressing together, and as he does, the golden vambraces on his forearms ignite with a brilliant incandescence. The light cascades over his form, and in the span of Planck time, a translucent barrier of divine power forms.

The force of impact is titanic, a clash of raw strength and unyielding resolve. Superman's fist, a tidal wave of force, collides with Red X's shimmering barrier. The world pauses, the epicenter of the clash encased in silence. The translucent golden barrier absorbs the colossal impact; it shudders under the force of the blow, trembling like a wisp of silk in the tempest.

Red X, with the shimmering shield as his defense, remains undamaged, but the sheer force of the attack propels him into the air. He becomes an ephemeral figure; a fleeting shadow launched upward, his form a mere dot against the Metropolis skyline. Superman, in the instant, pursues his prey with unyielding determination. In an explosive display of power, the Kryptonian hero unleashes a massive double hammerfist upon the barrier. The two fists collide like thunderclaps, an embodiment of titanic might against a wall of impenetrable energy. The world shivers in response, a symphony of power and resistance echoing through the air.

Red X's world shatters as he is rocketed toward the ground. The very air screams with the intensity of the collision, and the ground itself bows beneath the titanic force of his impact. Cracks ripple through the earth, as if the world itself recoils from the audacious assault.

3:18… In the aftermath of the cataclysmic collision, Red X lies battered and broken, half-buried amidst the dust and debris kicked up by his crash landing. The earth clings to him like a shroud, concealing his form beneath a blanket of shattered terrain. As he assesses his condition, he can feel sweet agony coursing through his body, a beautiful reminder of his mortality. With a twisted grin he mutters, "Several broken bones… you know what, my dear skeleton; I think it's high time I gave you an upgrade."

The resonant voice of Prophet, his ever-present AI companion, emanates with wisdom and paternal warmth that stands in stark contrast to the chaos that reigns around them. "Doctor Polaris and Shaggy Man have commenced their tasks, master. Steel, Supergirl, and Power Girl are suitably occupied."

Upon hearing this, Red X can't help but unleash a maniacal, unbridled laugh that echoes through the desolation. "Ah, the stage is set," he exclaims, his voice brimming with malicious delight.

With inhuman resilience, he stands, bones mending and reshaping with each passing moment; the intoxicating kiss of agony only fuels his Hunger. "Now let's get back to our dance, Superman."

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

3:15… With a dramatic flourish, he launches bolts of Divine Lightning at the approaching hero. The Lightning erupts from his fingertips, arcing toward his dance partner, a latticework of brilliance and power.

Superman, undeterred by the divine onslaught, closes the distance with unparalleled grace. His movements are a ballet of power and precision, avoiding the erratic torrents of Divine Lightning with finesse. He's on a collision course with Red X, the embodiment of unwavering justice, fists clenched and his resolve unbreakable.

Yet, in the midst of the battle, Superman's unwavering focus is abruptly torn asunder. His head turns to the east, eyes like sapphire lasers piercing through the chaos. There, on the far side of the city, a cataclysmic explosion engulfs the skyline. The detonation is an eruption of dust, glass, and falling pieces of buildings. And then, suddenly, from the heart of the chaos, a powerful beam of heat vision lances forth, slicing through the smoke and debris like the sword of an avenging angel.

3:14… Superman's attention is wrenched away from the distant calamity by the sudden, jarring presence of Red X. In the blink of an eye, the enigmatic adversary stands beside him, a specter of malevolence and determination.

Superman swivels, instinctively his senses are inundated with the sight of a bulky, golden armored glove. This intricate creation, akin to the vestiges of an ancient Greek legend, sheathes Red X's entire right arm. The designs etched upon the golden surface seem to whisper forgotten stories of gods and heroes.

With a swiftness and precision that defies imagination, Red X's armored fist strikes out like a coiled serpent. The blow lands squarely on Superman's face, and for the first time in this pitched battle, the Man of Steel feels pain from one of his opponent's blows. The force of the impact is enough to send him hurtling backward, a meteor of blue and red streaking across the night sky. Miraculously, Superman was able to grab hold of the Golden glove before he was sent flying. It slips from the thief's arm as the hero is violently rocketed backwards. He crashes into a sprawling, iridescent billboard, and the structure shudders in the wake of his landing.

Superman's vision momentarily blurs, but his will remains unbroken. He pushes himself up from the debris, his determination unyielding. It's then that he feels a sinister presence looming behind him. Red X's uncanny teleportation places him at Superman's back, where the villain promptly secures the Metahuman Suppression Collar around the Kryptonian's neck. The cold, unyielding metal constricts against Superman's skin, a symbol of human fear; an artifact of Sin. Blasphemous, ungrateful insects that dare to build shackles for their saviors, should they ever stray from the pathetic path the insects have lain out.

Superman leaps back, distancing himself from his foe, his sapphire eyes gleaming with determination. "What are you doing, Red X?" he questions, his voice echoing with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Red X's chilling laughter permeates the air. "The real game begins now, Superman," he retorts, his voice laced with sinister mirth.

Superman's cerulean eyes lock onto the mystical golden glove in his possession. He's felt this kind of gravitas before, a resonance that echoes the same ancient power of Aquaman's now destroyed trident. With a contemplative glance, Superman makes a decision; he ascends into the heavens, and there, against the backdrop of the cosmos, he releases the gilded artifact. The glove floats silently in the vacuum of space, shielded from the chaos below, to await the end of this perilous game.

As it floats in place, his thoughts churn. "The Metahuman Suppression Collar seems to strip away approximately 30% of my power," he ruminates, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. "I've already limited myself to using just 15% of my power as part of this deadly contest. What the hell is Red X planning and moreover, where did he get an Atlantean artifact?"

With questions burning like a wildfire within him, Superman plummets back to Earth, a silent determination etching lines of resolute focus on his face. He doesn't have time for questions now. With unwavering determination, Superman surges forward.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

3:00… Red X rushes at Superman, his hands and lower limbs cloaked in a pale white aura that dances like ethereal flames. He brings forth the full fury of his Explosive Aura, infusing every hit with power potent enough to inflict real pain upon the Man of Steel. Red X's attacks land with precision and force, each one striking like a thunderbolt. Yet, despite their might, they fall upon Superman like water on a stone. Though they fail to inflict damage upon Superman's invulnerable form, they succeed in their own right—inflicting annoyance and frustration like a thousand biting ants.

Superman unleashes a storm of fury, his fists a blur of motion as they slice through the air in rapid succession. The air reverberates with the clash of titans as he darts toward Red X, his purpose unwavering in the midst of chaos. Their strikes converge like a frenetic symphony. Red X dances on the precipice of every punch and kick, slipping through the net of the Kryptonian's attacks with preternatural agility. His movements—a masterpiece of evasion, akin to a whispering breeze through a dense forest, leaving no trace but its passing.

Superman's punches come like a barrage of meteorites, each strike aimed with unparalleled precision, but to no avail, as Red X defies the laws of physics with his agility; he sidesteps and evades, a shadow dancing through the storm of Superman's fury. His counterattacks, while swift and artful, meet a formidable obstacle in the Man of Steel. The blows may land, but they strike against an unyielding fortress of power, causing no damage to the indomitable hero.

Amid the ceaseless exchange of blows, Red X's voice, like a shadowy whisper in the midst of the tempest, penetrates Superman's consciousness. "Have you noticed, Superman," he taunts, his tone laden with sinister intrigue, "that Lex Luthor has been unusually quiet lately?"

With a surge of determination, Superman seizes Red X, his fingers closing like vices around the thief's scarlet and onyx armor. He slams Red X into the cold, unforgiving wall of a nearby building. The very structure seems to groan in protest as their titanic clash threatens to rend it asunder. His cobalt eyes lock onto Red X's mask, a piercing intensity that seeks answers in the depths of deception. The mano-a-mano struggle takes on an electrifying intensity as Red X's left hand clasps around Superman's wrist. The crimson-caped champion pins his adversary in a vice grip, his ice-blue eyes burning with an unspoken challenge. "What do you know about Luthor?" he demands.

"Superman," Red X hisses, his lips curling into a cruel grin beneath his mask, "I've prepared a special gift, just for you, with a little assistance from your friend Luthor."

Superman, his curiosity piqued is about to inquire further when he experiences a subtle prick, like the bite of an invisible serpent, on his wrist that sends a shiver down his spine. A searing, virulent liquid, like liquid emerald fire, surges through his veins, tearing through his Kryptonian biology. In a sudden paroxysm of pain, his grip on Red X slackens, and he stumbles backward, the once invincible hero now reduced to a disoriented, anguished figure. Struggling to focus, his gaze lands upon Red X, and it's there that he perceives the cause of his torment.

His azure gaze narrows upon Red X's left index finger, the once simple cybernetic digit, now transformed into a syringe. A solitary drop of bright green liquid oozes from its tip, a bright green poison; a weapon tailored to exploit his most vulnerable weakness – Kryptonite.

"You see, Superman," Red X begins, his voice tinged with a joyful satisfaction, "I've concocted a special little surprise just for you. A Kryptonite-based poison, carefully engineered to strangle your strength without ending your life. Luthor, ever the benevolent contributor, supplied the Kryptonite for my little experiment."

He laughs, a sound that chills the air more effectively than any arctic breeze. "You see, we've been at this dance all this time, but it was merely the opening act. While you and I engaged in our little tango, the Metahuman Suppression Collar was undergoing some... upgrades. The collar now works in conjunction with the Kryptonite poison. Your power, once godlike, is now reduced to a mere fraction—about 20% of its total. But don't worry, I'm feeling generous." His voice takes on a mockingly magnanimous tone. "I'll amend the rules so you can now make use of the full 20%. Still a fair fight, wouldn't you say?"

"Now, square the fuck up." Red X proclaims, his voice dripping with venomous glee.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

2:45… Amidst the chaos and battle, a storm rages within Superman's mind. He knows that Red X perceives this all as a game—a dangerous one, yet a game nonetheless. And so, Superman decides to keep playing along… for now. He contemplates the gravity of the situation, wondering how dangerous Red X could be if he continues down this perilous path.

"If he still sees this as a game," Superman reflects, "then I'll continue to play along. The stakes may be high, but he's more dangerous if left unchecked."

As their punches collide, as the streets below quake under the intensity of their battle, a whirlwind of thoughts courses through Superman's mind; he thinks about the path that brought Red X to this dark place, the choices that led him astray. He envisions a future where Red X's brilliant mind and skills are channeled toward a better path, one where he could become a force for good rather than destruction. The idea of reining in the rogue Metahuman before his malevolent potential fully awakens gnaws at Superman's conscience.

Superman speaks to Red X, his voice unwavering, "You know, Red X, you may find this amusing, but this isn't a game to me. This world, these people, they're worth more than merely being pawns in some grand game. I'm playing along with this game because I hope that someday, you'll see the light, find a better path."

Red X's eye narrows and his tone becomes defiant. "You talk a big game, Superman. But you're still playing along, aren't you? As for a better path, well, I've walked my share of those. Right now, the path I'm on suits me just fine."

Amid the brutal spar, as Red X's fist connects with the Man of Steel's chest and the ensuing shockwave rattles buildings, Superman's thoughts race faster than his blows.

"I need to call an emergency meeting with the Justice League," he concedes, making a mental checklist of the tasks ahead. "We must discuss how to deal with Red X, how to guide him back to the path of righteousness, even if it means taking extreme measures."

As he dodges a blast of explosive aura, Superman thinks of the Justice League, their shared dedication to truth and justice, and the responsibility he bears. He knows that an emergency meeting with his fellow heroes is imminent. The fate of Red X hangs in the balance, and they must decide how to guide him toward the light or at the very least stop him from falling further into darkness; much like with Jason Todd.

Red X launches a rapid three-hit combo that sends shockwaves through the very air. Each hit lands with jarring precision; a testament to his refined combat skills; each blow reverberates through Superman's body, causing him to stagger.

With a surge of determination, Superman unleashes the fury of his heat vision, searing beams of focused energy cutting through the air. Red X is forced to retreat, evading the scorching onslaught. Yet, the relentless Kryptonian pursues, closing the gap with unmatched speed. But Red X, always ready with another ace up his sleeve, clangs his golden bracers together. The sound echoes like thunder, and a powerful shockwave ripples outward, smashing into Superman like a battering ram. The force sends him hurtling backward, crashing through skyscrapers, debris raining in his wake.

With a burst of golden-accented agility, Red X vaults into the sky, high above the Man of Steel. He summons his divine power, unleashing a massive bolt of Divine Lightning that crackles like the fury of the gods themselves. The Kryptonian reacts swiftly, darting aside with an elegant aerial dance. Closing the distance, Superman delivers a powerful punch to Red X's stomach.

Yet, just as before, the silver barrier materializes on Red X's armor, a shimmering shield that barely contains the tremendous energy of the blow. The ground quakes beneath them as he's propelled through several buildings, crashing through walls and steel girders. Superman, ever the beacon of hope and resilience, follows the path of destruction, ready to bring their battle to its conclusion.

Superman blazes forward with explosive speed. His fists, like sledgehammers forged in the crucible of Krypton's remnants, close in on Red X. The rush of air precedes his blow, a harbinger of impending devastation. He strikes, and the force unleashed is like a thunderclap. Red X absorbs the mighty blow, his silver barrier shimmering as it withstands the onslaught. But Superman's power is overwhelming, and the impact sends vibrations through the very pavement beneath their feet.

Superman strikes fast, his powerful fists aimed with precision. Red X, his armor shimmering with that enigmatic honeycomb barrier, takes the attack head-on. The collision sends shockwaves rippling through the street, shattering windows and launching debris into the air. With the city's towering buildings as their backdrop, they engage in a relentless exchange of blows. Red X, a master of martial arts, unleashes every ounce of his skill. His movements are a whirlwind of grace and precision, each strike executed with a dancer's finesse. Explosive Aura infuses his punches with raw, volatile energy, creating dazzling bursts of light and sound upon impact.

As the battle rages on, each punch and kick, every blast of Divine Lightning and heat vision, leaves a trail of destruction in its wake. The streets are torn asunder, cars flung like toys, and buildings tremble from the concussive force of their battle. Their clash is a dance of power and skill, a testament to the indomitable spirits of two superhuman warriors.

Superman has the upper hand, as even a mere 20% of his power still puts him as one of the most powerful beings in the world. His punches strike true and with devastating impact, causing shockwaves that ripple outward, toppling lampposts and tearing asphalt from the road. Yet, Red X does not yield. He answers Superman's might with his own, the Explosive Aura channeling his attacks into kinetic explosions, creating a wall of force to meet the Man of Steel.

Red X and Superman continue their brutal exchange of blows, the very air vibrating with the intensity of their conflict. With every punch and counterpunch, the cityscape trembles as if in harmony with their struggle.

Prophet's voice, resonating with wisdom and concern, filters through Red X's consciousness. "Master the armor's capacity is at 9700%," the AI advises, a somber reminder of the imminent danger. "Caution is advised as any more damage, and it will lead to your demise."

Red X, his eyes locked on the timer displayed on his heads-up display, knows it's time to bring this wonderful dance to its climax. With uncanny agility, he evades Superman's latest attack, his movements a breathtaking display of agility and precision. Then, with a final, brutal right punch that seems to draw upon the very essence of the cosmos, he releases all the pent-up energy the armor has absorbed in this recent skirmish.

A cataclysmic explosion of power erupts from his fist, a brilliant blaze of energy that engulfs the intersection, painting the city with an otherworldly light and illuminating the city like a supernova. The shockwave generated by the release of pent-up energy sends a shockwave cascading through the streets, shattering glass, and crumbling buildings. In that brief moment, the world stands still, caught in the unforgiving grip of destruction.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

0:12… Amid the blazing brilliance of their final clash, the apocalyptic release of energy erupts, consuming the entire intersection in a cataclysmic maelstrom. The explosion, a monument to their clash of titans, inflicts its relentless toll on Red X. His once-majestic armor, a manifestation of power and defiance, lies in ruin, a shattered relic of battles past. Gone is the entire right arm; obliterated in the blinding crescendo, leaving only the golden bracer. It gleams like a monument to the grandeur of the armor's former glory.

The cost of Red X's audacious gambit is evident in the lines of agony etched upon his countenance. His right arm dangles limply, grotesquely misaligned, with shattered bones jutting out like jagged spears. The once pristine armor that encased him is now a twisted mockery, bearing the brutal scars of their clash. The internal workings of his body have borne the brunt of this cataclysmic clash, with organs suffering grievous harm. The tormenting grip of internal hemorrhaging takes root, a relentless and silent assailant. Black blood oozes from the corners of his lips, painting a gruesome portrait of the torment within. His entire body trembles with the shockwaves of unyielding agony. Yet, he grins through the pain, an eerie smile that dances at the precipice of delirium. It's a macabre laughter, the laughter of one who has danced too close to the edge of the abyss and found it exhilarating. Red X, a broken and battered figure, lies collapsed on the ground, his back resting against a mound of rubble, the very embodiment of sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Superman is sent hurtling through the air by the recoil, crashing into a building several blocks away. Groggy, he rises on shaky legs, the blood cascading from his battered nose a testament to the monumental force of their battle. With a sense of urgency, Superman makes his way back to the injured Red X.

Superman kneels beside Red X's battered form and gazes down at him, perplexed by the haunting laughter that dances on the villain's bruised and bloodied lips. The question, "What's so funny?" lingers in the air, a fragile bridge between pseudo-adversaries.

"Lois Lane received the key code to the MSC earlier today." He manages to choke out the words between labored breaths. "Also the poison will wear off in about two minutes."

Superman, incredulous, frowns. "What are you talking about?"

0:00… In that ominous moment the chime of a bell, a spectral tolling of the fates, pierces the silence. Red X's eye gleams with a twisted satisfaction as he murmurs, "I win."

Before Superman can react, Red X vanishes, leaving the Man of Steel alone in the chaotic aftermath of their encounter. Despite the pain coursing through him, he can't help but let out a chuckle, an acknowledgment of the mad brilliance of the young man he wants to save from a path of darkness.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

In the dimly lit common room of Titans Tower, Tim Drake, his ever-present red domino mask concealing his identity, and Roy Harper, dressed in their civilian clothes, huddle over a high-tech table scattered with holographic screens displaying information.

Their conversation delves into the shadowy world of Red X's activities, a dance that has stretched on for seven long months. Roy leans forward; his brow furrowed in concern, and begins, "I managed to track down Geraldine Powers. She's been lurking in Kahndaq, Black Adam's domain. Because of her fuckin' bodyguards I couldn't get close enough to her to see anything, but with Vic's help I did confirm a meeting with Dr. Thaddeus Sivana."

Tim nods, absorbing the information displayed on the holographic screens. "And what do we know about that meeting? Any leads on why Powers forked over a cool $12.5 billion?"

Roy's expression darkens, mirroring the gravitas of the situation. "I wish I had more than just suspicions. It could be anything but I'd put my money on it being some kinda information. Powers left the meeting empty handed and left the country immediately after. I don't know about you Tim, but if I pay $12.5 billion for something, I'm sure as fuck not walking away without it."

Tim's eyes narrow behind the red mask, his analytical mind racing through potential scenarios. "Sivana doesn't strike me as the type to work with others, not even to just sell information, on top of that, he is way into the magic side of things and as far as we know Red X doesn't seem to mess with that type of power. Even though we've only had a few confrontations with him, Red X has consistently come back with a new upgrade or trick each time. If Red X is willing to drop that kind of money, it might be the case that he's trying to learn magic or something similar."

Roy shifts in his seat, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on him. "There's something big going on, this isn't just a series of jobs and partnerships; no, Red X has been slowly working towards something. We have to keep digging."

Tim nods in agreement, and the conversation shifts as he brings up Red X's connections. "Speaking of digging, Red X has met with some rather unsavory characters lately. First, there's Arthur Light. You probably remember him from when the team was still called 'Teen Titans'. Since then he has gotten significantly more dangerous– he no longer relies on tech to manipulate light, he now inherently has the ability. Since his power evolved, he's controlled Green Lantern's constructs, harnessed Superboy's heat vision, and even played with magic lightning from Wonder Girl's lasso."

Roy whistles lowly. "Shit, that's a whole bag of trouble right there. My guess is that he's after some of Doctor Light's tech. As you said, Red X has a penchant for upgrading his gear. With Light's tech, Red X could wreak havoc on a whole new level."

Tim nods grimly. "Yeah, and it gets worse. He met with Professor Ivo, the mad scientist with a penchant for blending biology and technology. You know, the guy who built those android soldiers that gave us such a headache. Ivo's creations are deadly, and Red X loves dangerous tech."

Roy furrows his brow as he taps a few keys on his keyboard, muttering to himself, "I swear, Tim, we've been chasing this guy for months now. Even single goddamn time we pick up his trail, we find out he's been gone for fucking weeks and we've made no actal progress."

As they exchange words, the pneumatic doors hiss open, and a metallic figure strides into the room. Cyborg, half-human, half-machine, is an imposing sight. He's the team's tech whiz and a master of surveillance.

Cyborg's mechanical voice booms, "Hey, guys, you won't believe what I've just uncovered. Red X, that slippery devil, committed two pretty peculiar thefts a couple of months ago."

The room seems to shrink as all eyes lock onto Cyborg, who taps into the computer terminal. A holographic screen materializes, displaying the details of the heists. Two artifacts, gleaming with the weight of history, adorn the screen.

Cyborg swipes his mechanical hand across a holographic interface, Cyborg gestures to the screen, and a holographic projection of data appears, revealing details of two unusual thefts. "I was scrubbing through some data I obtained from Interpol, Red X pulled off some pretty weird heists," he says. "About a week after his fight with Raven and Kaldur, he stole the Voynich manuscript."

The Voynich manuscript, as it appears on the screen, is a cryptic and ancient book, its pages filled with intricate illustrations of unidentified plants, celestial charts, and indecipherable script. Tim raises an eyebrow at the odd revelation. "The Voynich manuscript," he begins, "is considered one of the most mysterious books in history. No one's been able to translate its text, and it has baffled scholars for centuries. Some think it might hold the key to secret knowledge, but most just think it's a hoax."

Roy scratches his chin, his brows knitted in thought. "What the hell could Red X possibly want with an unreadable manuscript? It's more or less agreed on that it was either a hoax or some 'alchemist's' personal code; and even if it is something supernatural nobody can reed it."

Cyborg shrugs, still puzzled. "Beats me. But that's not all. Two months later he snagged the Rohonc Codex. It's a manuscript from the 19th century filled with yet another bizarre, untranslatable script and strange, vaguely alien illustrations. While not as old as the Voynich manuscript, it is still a mysterious book shrouded in speculation and myth."

Roy, wearing a concerned expression, furrows his brow as well. "It'd make sense if it was Raven pinching rare, mystical tomes. She's a fan of all that cryptic, ancient stuff. But Red X? Roy, ever the voice of blunt wisdom, shakes his head. "Look, I get Raven's thing for mysterious old books. She'd snatch it up in a heartbeat. But Red X? That makes no sense. This isn't his usual gig, and that's what's got me worried."

Tim nods in agreement. "These thefts don't add up. Red X goes after advanced tech, high-value precious gems, and dangerous weapons. Why these ancient, cryptic texts?" Tim's expression darkens, and he leans forward, tapping the holographic screen. "It'd be one thing if we could predict his moves, but now he's dealing with stuff that's way outside his typical style. We're going in blind, and that's never a good thing when it comes to Red X."

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

The common room of Titans Tower buzzes with activity as the team swiftly responds to the emergency alert flashing on their communicators. In no time, the Titans, sporting varied expressions—ranging from concern to determination—gather in the spacious room, awaiting the urgency of the situation.

With an air of tension, the main display in the room blinks to life, revealing the esteemed triumvirate of the Justice League: Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. Their stern visages relay the gravity of the situation, the weight of their news is immediately apparent.

Tim Drake stands at the forefront, his domino mask concealing his identity but not his determination, is the first to speak. "What's going on, father?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

Batman's voice is steady and solemn as he starts to speak. "Titans, we have an urgent matter to discuss." His cowl casts shadows over his features, making him seem even more enigmatic. "Red X has resurfaced, and he's become a significant threat."

Superman, with his imposing presence, addresses the young heroes. "Red X has secured unknown artifacts, seemingly with magical properties. They allowed him to hold his ground against me, and he even managed to inflict minor damage. He challenged me to a game; he had to evade capture by me for 5 minutes. While I was only using 15% of my power in the beginning and 20% towards the end of the game, he managed to not only win, but more or less control the flow of the fight." The words hang heavily in the air, the Titans realizing the magnitude of Red X's growing power.

Superman continues, his voice carrying a hint of respect. "He also created a Kryptonite based poison, with Kryptonite supplied by none other than Lex Luthor. The poison was, in all honestly, a brilliant move on Red X's part. It was designed to be used in conjunction with the Metahuman Suppression Collar temporarily to weaken me to 20% of my power without putting my life at risk; and it worked. It's clear that he's been planning this for a while, and he's far more dangerous and resourceful than we initially thought."

Raven, her usual calm demeanor revealing nothing of her inner thoughts, speaks in her emotionless tone. "We're watching Red X evolve before our very eyes. His methods and tools are become increasingly complex and dangerous."

Wonder Girl nods in agreement. "The fact that he's using Kryptonite to weaken Superman just screams 'maximum threat.' We need to step up our game."

Beast Boy's eyes widen, his greenish complexion betraying a subtle look of concern. "Doesn't that mean we're pretty much playing catch-up? He's been running around the globe for over half a year and we basically got diddly squat on what he's really been doing."

Amidst the discussion, Kaldur'ahm is studying a blurry image captured by a traffic camera. He recognizes the bulky golden glove that Red X employed against Superman. With a furrowed brow, he steps forward and addresses the team.

"I know what this is," Aqualad declares, his Atlantean heritage granting him unique insights into ancient artifacts. "It's the Power Glove, a formidable Atlantean weapon forged by the Great King Atlan shortly after the sinking of Atlantis." His voice carries both reverence and concern. "It was sealed in the Royal Atlantean Vault, but it went missing amidst the recent attack on Atlantis led by Black Manta."

As the gathered heroes contemplate the possibility of Red X's involvement in the attack on Atlantis, the room becomes hushed, each member deep in thought. Roy Harper chimes in with a theory, "Considering Red X's penchant for high-stakes thefts and his resourcefulness, it's plausible that he teamed up with Black Manta during the chaos of the attack. It's possible he teamed up with Black Manta to carry out the attack on Atlantis, intending to seize the Power Glove."

The room falls into a thoughtful silence as the idea takes root. The Titans and League members consider the ramifications of such a partnership. It's a chilling thought that Red X might have played a part in the assault on Atlantis, a grave matter that raises even more questions about his intentions.

Raven interjects with a thoughtful perspective. "This large-scale assault doesn't fit Red X's usual tactics. He operates covertly in his thefts, leaving little to no trace behind unless his real goal is to fight us. An open assault like the one on Atlantis doesn't fit his profile. It's highly unlikely that he was directly involved in the attack."

Tim nods in agreement. "Raven's right. It would be out of character for Red X to engage in such a high-profile operation unless he wanted to provoke a fight, but there were no reports of him being there. This makes it more likely that he crossed paths with Black Manta through a mutual contact in the world of villains."

The Dark Knight leans forward, his voice cold and calculated. "We'll start by gathering more intel on the artifact, see if we can track down where it ended up before he got his hands on it. We must be vigilant and prepared for his next move."

The gathered heroes nod in agreement, knowing that time is of the essence. Red X's actions have escalated to a level that requires their full attention and combined efforts.

The Titans exchange glances, uncertainty and concern painted across their faces. It's Red Robin, Tim Drake, who speaks up first, voicing the question that lingers in the room. "What do we do about Red X, though? How do we handle him moving forward?"

Superman, his countenance a mix of hope and determination, shares his perspective. "We'll aim to steer Red X towards a less destructive path. Even if we can't transform him into a hero, we can guide him to become a vigilante like we did with Jason Todd; or we could steer his thievery away from violence and have him work like Selina.

Raven, with her serene yet distant aura, asks, "Do you think it's possible? Can someone like Red X truly change?"

Superman nods, his unwavering faith evident. "We've seen people with troubled pasts turn to the light, like Harley and Ivy, and I want to give Red X that chance."

Batman, however, interjects with his, voice is firm and unyielding. "I understand the desire to redeem those who have strayed, after all I was the one to help turn Harley and Ivy towards their current path, but we can't afford to be lenient. Red X poses a significant threat, far more than either of them, and we can't ignore that. I'll give Superman and any of you that want to help until the New Year, six months, to attempt to bring Red X to a better path. If you fail, the League will act swiftly and decisively, using all its resources to apprehend him and ensure he doesn't pose a danger to the world."

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

Raven's room stands as a haven in the heart of the bustling Titans Tower; bathed in a soft, ethereal half-light, the space echoes with a calming ambiance. Shadows flicker and dance across the walls as she sits before her mirror, the gleam of her indigo hair illuminated in the soft glow. Her room, a sanctuary of silence, offers a haven where she can grapple with the thoughts and complexities of their latest mission.

Her reflection in the mirror reveals eyes that have witnessed more than their fair share of battles, both within and without. As she brushes her hair, she contemplates the complexity of their adversary. Red X had become a conundrum, a volatile mix of madness and allure. The brief glimpse into his mind had been like descending into the depths of a turbulent ocean, where the undercurrents threatened to pull her in.

She recalls that sensation as if it was a haunting melody that refuses to fade, and in her eyes, there's a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Red X, for all his darkness and chaos, had radiated an indomitable strength, like a mountain that refused to crumble even under the fiercest of storms. His essence was as dark as a moonless night, concealing countless mysteries and secrets that beckoned her to explore. Deep within his being, there was a power akin to lightning—fierce, uncontrollable, and strikingly powerful.

Her thoughts, like ripples in a pond, venture further into uncharted territory, delving into feelings she has struggled to comprehend. She wonders, with a tinge of uncertainty, what would happen if, by some miraculous twist of fate, they succeeded in redeeming Red X. Would she be able to explore the inexplicable attraction that had stirred within her? Her heart remains guarded, her emotional landscape marked by the traumatic experience with Malchior. The possibilities that emerge are both tantalizing and terrifying, like shadows playing on the wall.

In the serene haven of her room, she continues her musings, navigating the precarious path of emotions. She reflects on her eternal battle against the tempestuous energies that reside within her. As she ponders the potential redemption of Red X, she can't help but wonder if the fragile iciness of her own heart, marred by past scars, will collide with the fiery turmoil she sensed in him. It's a dance between her struggles and the primal allure of a man teetering on the precipice of light and darkness.

X~Sanguinis Promissa Gloria~X

In a dimly lit, cozy living room, Xander reclines in a plush leather chair. His metal fingers, wrapped around a bottle of whiskey, clink lightly against the glass of the bottle, and the crackling warmth of the nearby fireplace bathes the room in a gentle, flickering light. The ambience is one of quiet opulence, contrasting with the tumultuous storm in his soul.

Seated across from him, in an ornate chair that complements the room's aura of mystery, is Rose Wilson, the formidable Ravager. Her body exudes a languid elegance, yet her one piercing eye remains ever vigilant. She studies Xander with an intensity born of equal parts curiosity and impatience, demanding to know the nature of this enigmatic place they find themselves in.

"What exactly is this place, Xander?" Rose inquires, her tone an amalgamation of curiosity and frustration. Her keen, piercing gaze remains steadfast on Xander as she awaits an explanation.

Xander, ever the enigmatic charmer, leans back in his chair, cradling the bottle in his hand, the faint crackle of the fireplace casting an eerie warmth to his features. His cerulean eye, like a deep, bottomless pool of secrets, meets Rose's gaze. "Ah, my dear Rose, this is 'The House No Light Reaches.'"

Rose narrows her eyes at the cryptic response, her patience waning. "That's not an answer," she retorts, her voice dripping with irritation. She has learned to expect the unexpected from Xander, but the mystery of this place baffles her. It seems to exist in a void, accessible through anything vaguely resembling a door, and there's nothing but emptiness beyond it.

A chuckle rumbles from deep within Xander's throat. He knows how to masterfully dance around questions, stringing secrets like pearls on a thread. "Well," he muses, "it's a place where secrets thrive and mysteries unravel, where night conceals the truth from even the most vigilant eye."

Growing impatient with his evasiveness, Rose decides to drop the topic and leans forward, a glint of steel in her singular eye. "What's your next move then? What do you plan to do?"

Setting the whiskey bottle aside, Xander straightens in his seat, his gaze focused and unwavering. "I have to keep a promise," he responds, his words carrying a weight of determination. "Geraldine Powers has a few questions she needs answered, and I'll get them. I need to track down a few individuals and… ask them some questions."

Rose's inquisitive gaze remains locked onto Xander, a curious fire burning in her eye. "What about your armor?" she questions, her voice laced with a genuine curiosity that belies her concern.

"It took quite a beating during the fight with Superman," he confesses, his tone carrying a hint of acknowledgment for the formidable foe he had faced. "But that suit was just a prototype, Rose. It was designed to only last for the fight as a way to test if the tech would actually work, and it did its job."

Sipping from the glass, Xander's gaze shifts to the flames, its reflection shimmering in his eyes, "I should have the real thing finished in a few days."

As he leans back in the chair, an air of confidence and anticipation emanates from him. The shadows cast by the fireplace play on his features, illuminating a half-smirk that hints at the brewing storm of his plans, the looming promise he's determined to keep.

End of Sanguinis Promissa Gloria

Part One:

A Pyrrhic Victory is, Nonetheless a Victory

With Laughs,

SonoftheJester