Under the burning sun
I take a look around
Imagine if this all came down
I'm waiting for the day to come

-Oblivion by Thirty Seconds to Mars

It had taken some time, but eventually J'onn found it. The technology in Ma'alefa'ak's hidden facility was old, as if it had been gathered here for a generation or two. Each was a relic that would have been seen in a museum as a testament to Martian advancement.

Thankfully, such technology was more commonplace in rural areas of Mars. That said, this technology was dated even when he had been a child in the Elysium Mons. It took a few moments for him to recall the proper activation sequence, but after a few flicks of switches and the turning of a dial, J'on had the communication system online.

Now if he could get in touch with something.

He had seen the sandstorm raging around the Face of Mars during the fight. Already, he was expecting interference. He was a patient man, so he worked the old communication device, fine tuning the signal it broadcasted. There was a steady hum coming out of speakers, the occasional burst of static breaking up the monotony.

"This is J'onn J'onzz of the Manhunter Precinct 55," he spoke into the telepathic sensor. Like all communication devices, it would convert the telepathy thought into sound. "Can anyone hear me? This is J'onn Jonzz of the Manhunter Precinct 55."

He paused every so often before calling out the same phrase. All the pertinent information was there, that he was a Manhunter. Anyone that heard it would know to respond.

It was several minutes before he received contact.

"J'onn?" a voice came through teh speaker. The static had increased, the droning hum louder. "Come—J'onn. This—Lon'fon."

Lon'fon, so she had come. "It is good to hear from you, Lon'fon," J'onn responded immediately. "I am currently within the Face of Mars."

It took a couple seconds before, "J'onn—hear me?—you—this?-There is—interfer—from the storm. Are you—"

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but J'onn felt disappointed all the same. He knew the sandstorm would be a hindrance in sending and receiving communication. It more than likely would also prevent Lon'fon and her team from picking him up as well. They were either bogged down or high above the storm itself.

"I am hearing you. I am hearing you," J'onn said, repeating himself. If he said his statement twice, he felt it would get his meaning across better. Whichever parts didn't make it through the interference had a second chance of doing so, giving the listener a clearer message. "There is interference with the sandstorm. There is interference with the sandstorm. I am okay where I am. I am okay where I am."

"I—relieved," came Lon'fon's response. "We—wait out—storm."

J'onn could not help but tilt his head back, staring up at the ceiling. He could only imagine the raging storm at this moment, though he had experienced its feriosity already. With a storm like that. There was no telling how long it would last. It may be only a few more minutes, or it could last the rest of the day. The longest recorded storm had lasted ten years. No vehicle made could last that long waiting. No person could wait that long without needing rest and nourishment.

A decision needed to be made in the interest of all parties.

"Return home," J'onn "Return home. I will wait out the storm here. I will wait out the storm here. I will return when able. I will return when able."

The response came back immediately. "We—let you stay—yourself. We can—as long—it takes. We won't—you."

"This is an order. This is an order," J'onn repeated, hardening his tone. Lon'fon clearly didn't want to leave him behind, but she wasn't thinking of the logistics. If he needed to pull rank, then so be it. "Go back to Dea'vars. Go back to Dea'vars."

A few moments passed before a different person picked up the line. It took a moment for J'onn to realize it was one of the Manhunters at the precinct, Bil'lock. Lon'fon must have talked him into this mission. "We hear—. We—you. All—return to—. All units—to base."

J'onn sighed. At least someone understood him. They would return to Dea'vars while he bunkered here until the storm passed. Bil'lock would handle Lon'fon in the meantime. Turning off the communication device, the Manhunter left the room, heading back to the launch bay.

The room was completely annihilated. The walls were naturally in place as they were built to withstand the force of a rocket blast. All the equipment that had been stored there, however, had been destroyed. All that was left were twisted remains, blackened by the fire that had consumed them. The debris had been shoved up against the walls, leaving the rest of the room clear.

Save for one thing.

There was a large black spot near the center of the room, right where the spaceship had initially blasted the fire from its exhaust port. Within that spot were charred remains—what remained of Ma'alefa'ak. The flesh was gone, burnt away, leaving only charred bone. Even then, they were only pieces of a Martian skeleton. J'onn could make out a knee with partial bone extended from the proximal and distal sides of it. A couple ribs, even a humerus had survived. The most intact though was the skull. Half of it was gone, but that left the other half intact. Based off of the way the jaw was open, it was forever stuck in a silent scream.

This was the last of his brother. As much as he had grown to despise him during their last meeting, now J'onn could only feel sadness. He was sad at the twisted thing his own family had become, a coveted, selfish being. He had a mind few Martians could ever hope to become; yet, he used it to further his own ego rather than for the benefit of Mars.

And now, their society burned for it.

There was still hope, one that J'onn planned on kindling once he left this long-forgotten place. Ma'alefa'ak had indicated that his colleague-turned-victims at the University could have assisted in the development of a cure for H'ronmeer's Curse. It would be to their research that J'onn sought out a means to save his people.

As much as he wanted to communicate this, he knew it would be only an exercise in frustration. His communication with Lon'fon and Bil'lock served as an example of how difficult getting his message out would be. Though, perhaps there was a terminal that he could use here to get the word out. Send a message to someone that could put into work what he had learned.

There wasn't much for him to do here other than wait. This he would do to save his people.

The longest storm on record had lasted ten years. It seemed the storm that had trapped J'onn within the Face of Mars was determined to set a record.

For one hundred years, the sandstorm raged. For one hundred years, he was trapped in solitude, unable to reach out into the world, left alone to his own devices.

As unfortunate as it was, there was no communication device or computer terminal he could use to get in touch with the people of Dea'vars, or anywhere in general. He was truly isolated from his people, who no doubt had battled with the worst of H'ronmeer's Curse.

However, just because he was imprisoned here did not mean he stayed idle. J'onn explored his inadvertent prison, learning what he could of its design, its making, and its significance. Learning was all he could do and he did it at a rate he had not experienced since he had first come into his telepathic heritage.

He studied his surroundings, but he also investigated the technology contained within it. As aged as it was, he learned quite a bit on how it all worked, how to maintain it, and how to fix it when it needed fixing. He also delved into Ma'alefa'ak's research, learning all he could of it. His brother had taken all of his research from the University, so there were many subjects J'onn looked into. While some of it was far too nuanced for him, he did become well-versed in what he could understand.

Then there was the Mother Box. Taking everything he had learned of it from Ma'alefa'ak's research, and his own experimentation with taking apart and rebuilding the technology here, J'onn put his recently acquired knowledge to work as he investigated the Mother Box. It truly was an instrument far beyond what Martian-kind had been able to develop, he discovered. His research into it had provided him with more knowledge to recognize all of its innards. However, there were still things about it he could not figure out, and in the interest of not destroying it or himself, he eventually set it aside.

One thing he did do was set up a computer terminal to monitor the weather. There were probes and sensors throughout the complex that monitored the outside world. Every day for those one hundred years, J'onn received reports of the on-going storm. It came to a time where he fully expected it from day-to-day.

Then one day, he was surprised to learn that it had ended. There had been multiple times during the century where it seemed like the storm would abate, but it would only resume its full strength not too long after. To receive readings that it was over had been shocking.

J'onn had chosen to phase through the walls then, not wanting to suffer another isolated day searching for an exit. Going straight through the roof, the Manhunter emerged into arid air, the likes of which he had nearly forgotten existed. Rising higher and higher into the air, J'onn took in the sight of fair Mars, and the desert he had once known existed here.

The surrounding area was much different than when he had last seen it. Gone were most of the rocky outcroppings that had formed mountains in this region. Only the tops of the tallest ones were visible now, the rest of them buried beneath sand. In fact, the Face of Mars no longer looked like the Martian face he was familiar with. The storm had eroded much of it. Gone was the elongated end of the head. It was now more rounded than the original angular construction. Facial features were still present, but they were much more faded. Still, J'onn could make out the eyes, the mouth, a possible nose.

J'onn shook himself. No longer would he stay here. There were other places for him to be now. Of course, he would have to fly on his own seeing as his hover vehicle was buried under an indeterminable amount of sand. Better yet, there had been older versions of hovercrafts within the complex. They still worked; after all, J'onn had spent time learning about them too. He only needed one to work.

Silence was deafening. It was a contradictory dichotomy, one that wasn't understood until one heard it.

The sight of Dea'vars desolate, wild vegetation reclaiming the buildings as they grew over structure and road, made J'onn a firm believer of the concept.

The city appeared to be abandoned. There was no sign of life anywhere that he could discern. As much as J'onn wanted to use his telepathy to seek out any semblance of life, he feared not to. H'ronmeer's Curse could very well still be active, and it would be a shame for him to survive as long as he had only to come down with the very disease that had been killing his people.

So he had to do things the hard way and searched the city. Using the hovercraft he had taken from the Face of Mars, J'onn explored the desolate streets, looking for any sign of life other than the vines and weeds that infested the once thriving metropolis. Admittingly, they only covered a few buildings as much of the surrounding desert had encroached into the once thriving civilization. Red sand could be found in places that one did not think it could reach, but clearly had. Time meant nothing during this search, even as the sun slowly worked its way from one horizon to the other.

Eventually, J'onn found himself at his precinct, it too a victim of neglect. He phased through the walls and found the interior was not much better.

Much of the building's insides were stripped bare, be it equipment, furniture, and even computers. There were potted plants that had been used for decoration, long since dead due to the lack of care. Walls had been damaged as well as the ceiling, which allowed weather damage inside. As much as J'onn had his doubts about finding anything useful, he continued his search.

It was during his search of the former forensics laboratory that he finally found something. Contained in one of the work stations, Lon'fon's if memory served correctly, J'onn found a tablet contained in a hidden drawer. There was a charging station nearby, so in the interest of ensuring he could use the device without the battery giving out, he attempted to charge it.

It probably should have been obvious power was no longer being conducted in the building.

So J'onn took his treasure and returned to his hovercraft, charger in hand. After hooking the charger to the hovercraft's internal systems, he got the necessary charge, returning the tablet to life.

As much as he wanted to access the device, J'onn waited a full hour before further examining it. Again, he did not want to lose any of the tablet's contents. It felt like the longest hour he had ever experienced, but eventually he gave into his desires a minute or so before it was fully an hour.

Turning on the tablet, he saw the familiar program icons on it. Who knew he would come to appreciate something as mundane as program icons? At first, J'onn was uncertain as to which program he should access, though a glance to the satellite connectivity told him communications would be of no use. There was no signal present, so he couldn't send a message out even if he tried.

It didn't, however, stop a previously recorded message.

Seeing the alert for one, J'onn accessed the program and was immediately greeted with the familiar voice of Lon'fon. He was surprisingly happy about this.

As for her message, however, he was not happy to hear it.

It seemed that H'ronmeer's Curse did not abate during his isolation. It ravaged the planet despite every effort to stop it. As governments proved useless in their attempts, the populous lost their faith in their ability to protect them. There had been riots; there had been attempts to leave the planet, all of which ended in failure as an interstellar travel ban had been initiated. Any space-fearing vehicle had been disabled or dismantled to prevent the Martian population from leaving the planet. Military force had been used…

No…

J'onn knew what that meant. If the military had been called upon to maintain peace, then the corresponding force had been used as well. Lon'fon's message did not aleve him of these fears as there were reported incidents of spaceships being shot down.

All of this happened within the first five years of his imprisonment.

How? How could such a thing happen to his people? His home? Prior to H'ronmeer's Curse, Mars had been undergoing a golden age of prosperity and enlightenment. For it to end in chaos and bloodshed…

A voice, not dissimilar to Ma'alefa'ak's, whispered in his head that Martians were not the peaceful people they claimed to be. A repressed darkness existed within them and it came out when times had become difficult.

J'onn did not like this voice. He knew it was only imagined, but the evidence seemed to agree with that line of thought.

Lon'fon's message wasn't finished though.

"Mars is witnessing difficult times," Lon'fon's recorded voice stated. "And I fear it will only continue to worsen. Those who have not succumbed to H'ronmeer's Curse, are dying in the effort to flee this planet, which the Government refuses us to do. There are talks of overthrowing the Council of Five. Nothing is the way it should be. J'onn, if you somehow free yourself of your confinement and find this message, I urge you to leave Mars any way that you can. Failing that, remain in your sanctuary until the end of your days. Mars is no longer the world we once built; I no longer think it is a world worth saving.

"Good-bye, my friend."

The Elysium Mons resided in a desert-like basin, the Utopia Basin. A towering mountain stood above a basin littered with craters, the result of a meteor shower that had fallen there millions of years ago.

This was J'onn's childhood home. The settlement he grew up in was at the base of the mountain, at least the side the residents wanted the world to see. Much of the village resided inside of the mountain, utilizing a cave system that had existed there for countless millennia.

J'onn only returned here for one reason.

Though it was widely known what caused the craters, they were not left unused. Early Martians had used it for religious purposes, and those traditions had left them as modern-day burial grounds. It was for this reason that J'onn was here.

There was a small crater he specifically went to, the one the J'onzz clan had used for generations. Though he had no bodies to bury, that did not stop J'onn from making grave markers. From the center of the crater, he uncovered shards of meteorite. He found two, each the size of his forearms, and took them. There was a larger piece, one perhaps the size of his torso. He took that as well.

At the rim of the crater, there were grave markers following the edge. Each marked the burial site of some distant ancestor. J'onn paid them no mind. Instead, he placed his three meteorite fragments along side the ones that had marked his clan's. As chance would have it, they were next to his parent's graves.

From now and until the ultimate death of the universe, these markers would remain the last reminders of his family. M'yri'ah's larger meteorite was bookend by Jos'seph and J'oe's smaller ones. It ultimately did not matter which child represented each fragment, but J'onn named the left one Jos'seph's, and the right one J'oe's.

Time lost much of its meaning for J'onn. He did not know how many months, if not years he spent at these grave markers, maintaining them against the elements. There was nowhere to go, no one to see. He was all alone with his memories, his fondest ones of family, and the ones of sorrow for Mars' lost civilization.

And though it pained him, there was one other grave he made the day he had placed his family's beside his parents'. Though he was the mastermind, the perpetrator for Mars' current condition, J'onn still made a marker for his sick brother. The marker wasn't as notable as the meteorites he used for M'yri'ah and the children. It was a plain stone, turned red to match the surrounding desert. Yet, he placed it on the far side of his clan's burial site, to forever keep him away from his family in death, what he failed to do in life.

From time to time, he did pay his respects, if only to acknowledge their familia connection. That was all he would give his sad, twisted brother.

Some would say that he was giving the man more than he deserved. They may have been right about that. None were here to share that perspective, and J'onn had spent one hundred years on his own. Time had a way of smoothing over negative thoughts. Still, one could forgive, but never forget. J'onn did not forgive his wayward brother for his actions, and he would not forget. That did not mean he would not move on, however. Enough time and enough life had been spent on his brother's negativity. He was best left forgotten to time.

If there was one thing he was certain Ma'alefa'ak would hate above all, it was to be forgotten, relegated as only a mere blip in history. His self-destructive actions had seen to that and J'onn certainly recognized the irony. One person, with the ability to change the world, life itself, and be remembered for all of time, and he chose to destroy it all, taking with him the very people that could only recognize his genius.

It was a befitting fate. J'onn knew he would eventually join his family as nothing more than a blip in time. He welcomed it even.

Unlike the various cities he had seen following his re-emergence, nothing changed at Elysium Mons. Wild vegetation did not attempt to reclaim it. The desert remained supreme as it always had. In a way, it was the perfect metaphor for J'onn. There was nothing here for him, only the past. His future was as barren as the planet in which he survived, for that was all he did, survive. He cultivated the former farmlands for the food he needed, only growing what was necessary for him. That much the planet could spare him, and he would only take what he needed and nothing more.

Time lost all meaning for J'onn. There was no one to share it with, so there was little meaning in keeping track of it. Days became weeks became months and became years. Still, he kept going, uncertain as to why he did so. Why did he continue to survive? Why did he not let nature take its natural course? He was the last of his kind, the one obstacle keeping Martians from becoming extinct.

Even now, he did not know what kept him going. Was it something within him? It was a lifeform's natural instinct to survive against all odds. Yet, such organisms also strove to propagate itself, which was something Martian-kind could no longer do. So why did he prolong the inevitable?

Was it something instilled in him by his parents? His culture? Life was a sacred thing and must be protected, or so he had been taught. Was that what kept him going? J'onn did not feel like it was, neither the inherited nature, nor the educated nurture. Yet, he did not have an answer for this time of his life. He continued with no real purpose, a wandering ghost on a dead planet.

He traveled Mars when he grew restless in the Elysium Mons. Without the cultivation of Martian society, nature had reclaimed much of what it had lost. Red sand encroached over roads, building up against buildings that slowly crumbled and eroded from constant weather damage. Without maintenance, they slowly fell apart, becoming unrecognizable from their previous glory.

It didn't matter which city he visited, they all looked the same, forgotten ruins that were losing the battle against time and the elements. It was only J'onn's knowledge of their original forms and shapes that told him what each building was and their purpose. Faintly, he wondered if this was how it was like to discover a long-forgotten structure and wonder about its use. Was this what it was like for the people that uncovered the Face of Mars, having long forgotten its origins?

There wasn't much of his home world that he did not explore during these times. It was how he learned he was the only one of his kind left. He had even gone to the poles, previously areas he kept away from. White Martians were notorious for their intense hatred of the Green Martians, so hostility was to be expected.

However, when he had reached those lands, J'onn encountered their settlements, which were a stark contrast to what he was familiar with. Each of their structures were designed to be dismantled and moved rather than stationary. It gave off the impression that White Martians were nomadic in their lifestyle. Considering the drop in temperature, J'onn felt certain there was a good reason for this.

Depending on one's perspective, it was fortunate or unfortunate he did not encounter a White Martian. The reason for this became quite clear when J'onn encountered faded scorch marks within tents. It seemed the White Martians had fallen victim to H'ronmeer's Curse as well. The ice and snow had done much to remove evidence of this outside, but inside the intact structures, even faded with time, the evidence was there.

J'onn felt Ma'alefa'ak would not have minded this outcome.

After that, J'onn did not spend much time, if any, at the poles. There was nothing there for him to learn after his initial trip there, so he did not feel the desire to return. The only place he did return to with any frequency was his family lands at Elysium Mons.

Each day blended in with one another until one day. He was returning from cultivating the fields he used for agriculture when he encountered it.

At first, J'onn felt as if he were seeing things. An odd light entered his vision, which he initially passed off as a trick of the light. The sun was at a particular angle that sometimes its rays would bounce off of grave markers at the crater's rim, showing a kaleidoscope of colors. It only last for a minute or so usually.

But then the light grew brighter. This was J'onn's first clue that something was not as it seemed.

Then there was this intense pulling sensation. The next thing J'onn knew, he was yanked off of his feet, surrounded by brilliant light. Rainbows flowed into one another, changing from different shades of primary and secondary colors. The force that pulled on his body felt as if it were stretching him out, momentum and inertia warring with each other in different parts of his body. A silent scream appeared on J'onn's face as he was practically torn apart.

And then he heard a deafening BOOM!

J'onn collapsed onto a hard surface, his breath completely lost and his body trying to reclaim as much as he could. His mind felt as if it were in a hundred places all at once.

"My God, it worked!"

Sounds, audible ones. Their meaning was unknown. For a moment, J'onn feared what that meant, despite everything he had witnessed and gone through. Yet, the tone and the sound frequency of the voice was much different than the person he thought it was.

Adjusting his body, J'onn shifted about until he could move himself onto his arms and knees. Raising his head, he found he was in a room unlike anything he had ever been in. For one, the floor was unlevel, the sensation of his lower body being higher than his upper body. The reason for this was because his knees and legs were on a small platform, his arms bracing his upper body against a floor level below it.

The platform was surrounded by some sort of machine, though its design was quite foreign to the Martian. As for the rest of the room, it had all the hallmarks of some sort of laboratory.

And standing by a computer terminal was a humanoid. The humanoid was frail looking, if J'onn had to describe him. His skin was pale, though it held more life than the pure white of a White Martian. A white coat covered much of the man's body. As for his head, wrinkles were in an abundance. The top of his head was bald, though white tufts of what J'onn thought was hair covered the sides. The hair looked unkempt, just reaching out in all directions.

The humanoid just stared at him before its mouth moved, more sounds coming out. J'onn did not understand what was being said. He did not know where he was either, nor how he had come to be here.

Where was he?

With that comes the end of J'onn's first outing. I know this chapter felt a little drawn out, but J'onn spent quite a bit of time on his own. Imagine this chapter spread out over centuries. Makes the twenty minutes you spent pale in comparison, huh?

Anyways, I would like to thank everyone that read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. It's one I wanted to make for awhile, and it finally came. Not nearly as long as I would have liked, but then I didn't fully explore Martian society like I originally planned. Then again, going through all of that wasn't necessary, especially when there was going to be a focus on specific elements.

Going forward, Anonymous Void is posting the current story in our shared universe, Titanomachy. Go give that a read, it's currently starting to heat up.

Until next time,

ShadowMajin