Chapter 3: A Man of Many Faces and Lives
Disclaimer: All things Supergirl/Superman and Legion of Super-Heroes belong to DC. No infringement is intended.
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 AWS
Sitting down behind his desk, the old man looked at the reflection of his face in the computer screen. It was not his first face, of course, but it would definitely be his last. He would die wearing this face, which was good. This was the face, this was the life, where he had managed to do the most good.
It was not his first life, though, and while those previous lives seemed almost unreal now, more fiction than reality, he had lived them and he was proud of what he had done in them, too. Well, mostly proud. He was no saint, he had done stupid things, of course, just like everyone else. Overall, though, he figured that he had led good lives. And though he did not much care to dwell on the past overly much, he owed it to someone to, at the very least, give an accounting of who he was, who he had been, and how he had become the man he was today.
There was a voice recorder built into his desk. A positively ancient piece of technology, to be sure, but it did have the distinct advantage that it was not connected to any online network, could not be hacked, and even if someone found it, odds were they wouldn't have a clue how it worked. Turning it on, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
"Reep, my dear boy," he finally began. "Maybe I will have the courage to one day tell all of this to you face to face, but I fear your dear old dad is a bit of a coward, at least in matters of the heart. So just in case I chicken out and never manage to tell you in person, at least you will have this. The life story of your dear old dad and how he came to be the silly old man you know today."
He chuckled.
"When you hear this, you might be tempted to think that your old man has finally gone crazy, but I assure you, I haven't. This story, my story, starts a long, long time ago. You already know that I didn't always wear this face and call myself by my current name. You also know that I was not born here on Earth, no matter what my official records say. What you don't know, however, is how very long ago all of this was."
Turning his chair around, he looked out across the vast vista of Metropolis. Before his eyes, though, he saw an entirely different world.
"The man known today as René Jacques Brande was born on the planet Durla, more than 1,000 years ago. I was barely an adult when I decided that a quiet life back home was not for me and headed out into space. I was looking for adventure. What I found was... well, yes, adventure pretty much covers it, I think."
Life: Adventurer
Dominion Space, 12 ASW
"Well, this is another fine mess..."
The entire small starship rocked to the side as the glaring light of high-intensity energy beams passing way too close to it lit up the viewports. The blue-skinned pilot of the craft wrenched the controls sharply to the left, changing the small vessels course in the vein hope of escaping from certain destruction.
"I thought you said this system was safe?" he yelled at his navigator.
"Well, obviously that has changed!" the navigator yelled back in annoyance, holding on to his seat as the inertial dampeners of the ship screamed in protest.
The ongoing civil war in what had once been the great and eternal Dominion Empire was spreading like a bush fire and had, it seemed, claimed yet another formerly peaceful star system. Outside the hull of the tiny merchant vessel, large fleets of warship were throwing death and annihilation at each other as different factions fought for control of the realm in the wake of Elia's destruction.
The ship's captain and pilot, a Talokian merchant called Lustig, finally managed to navigate the ship out of the immediate danger zone and leaned back in his chair, taking a breath, and wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Durlan, anything on the radio? What's going on out there? Who is fighting?"
The Durlan, known by no other name than that, immediately began checking the various frequencies. He had never bothered adopting an outworld name. Durlans, as a rule, didn't have names as most other species understood the concept. Given their natural shape-shifting abilities, Durlans identified each other by way of senses other species did not share and had no words for. Those few of their people who actually left their world sometimes took names to make it easier for the outworlders they interacted with. Given that, to the best of his knowledge, he was the only Durlan within a thousand light years, calling himself simply "the Durlan" was more than sufficient in his mind. Not like his crewmates would be able to tell if he was a different Durlan or not.
"One side seems to be our 'friends' from the Fifth Fleet," the Durlan said, listening to the chatter. He had become rather good at making sense of Dominion codes.
"Well, we were to meet them here for Pinnacle's latest supply run," Lustig muttered. "But who are the others?"
"They identify as the Casteless, according to their coms," the Durlan said after a minute. "Apparently some sort of coalition that wants to abolish the caste system."
Lustig sighed. The Durlan had, in the years he had been serving on this ship, become proficient at reading the (weirdly unchanging) faces of his crewmates. Lustig was frustrated and tired, that was apparent. The ever-changing allegiances and frontlines in this civil war were enough to drive anyone insane, especially those who had no stake in it apart from wanting to survive.
"Any trace of the supply convoy we were supposed to meet?"
Lustig's crew, just like pretty much every other merchant vessel in the quadrant, had been pressed into service by that remnant of the Dominion military caste under the leadership of a bastard called Pinnacle Command. They needed massive amounts of supplies transported to a planet called Vukar Tag in order to continue the abominable experiments they were running in that cursed place.
The Dominators were known as the finest genetic engineers in the galaxy, but the Durlan had never really considered what that meant until he had gotten his first look at the experimentation camps on that planet. Sentient beings were grown like cattle, experimented on, and eliminated if they weren't up to standard. The things he had seen in that place had been almost enough to sour him on experiencing other planets and other cultures for good.
Lustig and his crew had done what little they could to help the poor souls stuck in that place. There were some rebel cells trying to stop these atrocities and they needed supplies and the occasional transport off the planet, too. Lustig's crew had helped whenever possible, but none of them were interested in dying in the process. And die they would if the Dominators even suspected that they were anything but loyal servants of the Dominion.
"Nothing at the rendezvous coordinates except debris and explosions," the ship's sensor officer said after running some scans. "Either those bastards were lucky enough to get away or they've been blasted into space dust before we even got here."
"We need to get out of here, Lustig," the Durlan said as his captain considered their options. "If we stay, we'll be the ones blasted into space dust."
"And do you want to be the one to tell Pinnacle Command that we didn't get his supplies?" Lustig replied scathingly.
"Maybe this is a great moment to make a run for it and hope for the best?"
They had discussed such a scenario multiple times, in fact. The Dominion was in free fall, that much was evident even to the casual observer. Sure, Pinnacle Command might be vindictive enough to hunt down anyone who abandoned his glorious cause, but the Durlan doubted he would have the forces to spare, given that he was beset on all sides by rival factions.
On days like these the Durlan wondered whether it might have been a mistake to leave his home world for the stars. Then again, he had had his reasons for leaving. Durla was a stiff, restrictive place. For all that its inhabitants were shapeshifters by nature, their appearance ever-fluid, their society was very much resistant to any changes. Had he stayed, he would already be bound to a mate by now and his entire life would be mapped out from start to finish. To him, this would have been worse than death.
So he had rather gone to the stars, even if it meant sticking to a single, vaguely humanoid-looking shape most of the time so as not to unnerve his crewmates too much. For some reason the monoforms that populated most of the galaxy distrusted those who were not so unfortunate as to be locked into a single shape.
The Durlan was wrenched from his thoughts by the beeping of his console.
"We're getting a new transmission in the clear. It's going to every ship and outpost in the sector."
"Put it on the speakers then," Lustig ordered. "Maybe someone has some good news around here for a change."
"Citizens of the Dominion," a voice came over the speakers, speaking Interlac with a weird accent. "This is Kara-El, speaking for the Kryptonian Alliance and the free people of Elia. Be aware that the planet Vukar Tag and its star system are no longer under Dominion jurisdiction. We have no intention of interfering in your internal conflict, but the Dominator known as Pinnacle Command has committed grievous crimes against the people of Earth, Krypton, and Elia. He has been arrested and will be tried for the attempted invasion of our planet and the atrocities that have occurred on Vukar Tag. Said atrocities have been fully documented and will be used as evidence at his trial.
"All those who were wrongfully imprisoned on the planet Vukar Tag, as well as anyone else who wishes to escape from the conflagration of this civil war, are welcome to join us as we peacefully depart from the former territory of the Dominion. Contact us on this frequency and we will supply rendezvous coordinates. Anyone trying to stop us from leaving… will regret it."
The crew of Lustig's ship looked at each other, not quite believing what they had just heard.
"Do you think it's a trick?" The Durlan asked.
Lustig shrugged. "Could be. Then again... what do we have to lose?"
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 AWS
"Lustig and the boys knew that our days were numbered if we were to remain in the Dominion. We had aided the rebels on Vukar Tag, after all, if but on a small scale. We had smuggled out a few, even, and sooner or later someone was bound to notice. Either that or some other Dominator would take out Pinnacle Command and do away with everyone who had worked for him, willingly or not. So Kara-El's offer was the way out we had long been looking for.
"I had never really expected to stick with Lustig for good. When I had first met him a few years earlier, it had just been a convenient method of getting around to see different worlds. Then the Dominion civil war had begun, though, and things had turned far more serious than I had ever expected."
Brande sighed, looing wistfully into the distance. "Lustig was a solid guy, it was tough to leave his ship and crew. But after leaving the Dominion behind with Kara-El's liberation fleet, it was clear that it was time for me to move on. As part of Kara-El's colonization initiative, over a dozen new planets were being settled by the survivors of Vukar Tag, as well as numerous expatriates from other Dominion worlds. Volunteers and workers were needed practically everywhere. Every helping hand was welcome."
Brande chuckled to himself. "And you know us Durlans, my boy. We can morph as many hands as we need."
He took another sip from his drink. "It was a great time for someone who wanted to see many different worlds and was willing to work for it. I spent the better part of two years working wherever help was needed in whatever role was needed. The Alliance that would one day become the United Planets was still in its infancy. Everything was very improvised. The worlds I helped colonize were wild and untamed. It was a time of back-breaking labor, but oh, it was also so very, very rewarding. We built new worlds, new homes, new places to be.
"Eventually, however, things started to come together. And at the end of those two years, I found myself in the star system called Proxima Centauri, which was quickly becoming the administrative center of this new nation in the making. That was also the first time I met two people who would become not only great influences on my life, but also very good friends."
Life: Law Enforcer
Proxima Centauri, 14 ASW
"They are expecting you, Mr. Durlan," the assistant said, motioning him towards the door. "Just go right in!"
"Thank you, my dear," he replied. He didn't bother to correct her on the 'Mr.' part of his name. Maybe it was time to select a proper outworld name after all? Apparently quite a few people felt it awkward to just address him as 'The Durlan'.
The Durlan hadn't really hidden to which species he belonged to, but neither had he flaunted it. For the longest time these last few years he had worn more or less the same shape, a vaguely reptilian form with a dozen tentacle arms, dressed in a purple robe. The many limbs came in handy in many situations, so he wasn't forced to shape-shift too much in front of others. Quite a few people were unnerved when he did that, though he was never really sure why. These monoformers were a strange bunch.
His appointment was inside the artificial planetoid that served as the Alliance's unofficial capitol and bureaucratic center. The Durlan was amazed at the size of the construct, which was a good deal larger than your average planet. It was obviously still under construction, thousands of drones, and workers constantly busy, but it was impressive all the same.
Entering the office, he almost immediately froze in his tracks. One of the people present was the man he was supposed to meet. Vril Dox, representative of the planet Colu, and one of the main movers and shakers in the Free Worlds Alliance (as it was called now). There was a second person present, though, and while the Durlan had never personally met them before, he still immediately recognized them. Who wouldn't?
"Thank you for coming, Durlan," Kara-El, the Superwoman, told him with a big smile and extended her hand.
"Uh... you are welcome, of course," he replied, numbly shaking her hand with one of his tentacles. He noticed that, unlike some other humanoids he had met, she showed no signs of being uncomfortable touching him.
"Take a seat," Dox told him, the man obviously not one for niceties.
The Durlan sat down in front of the large desk, Dox sitting down behind it. Kara-El seemed content to remain standing, looking out the large view window behind the desk that showed the ever-increasing activity in the Proxima Centauri system.
"You have been a busy sentient these last two years, Durlan," Dox began, looking at a monitor on his desk. "You have worked as a volunteer on four of the new colony planets and received nothing but praise from all those you worked with."
"I try to do my part," he simply said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"The Free Worlds Alliance is taking shape," Dox told him. "What was once a loose collection of people who owed a favor to a certain Kryptonian..."
"Dox," Kara-El admonished him.
"Excuse me, a loose alliance of like-minded races interested in peace, prosperity, and harmony..."
He looked at the Superwoman, who smiled. "Better, thank you!"
"Well," Dox continued, "this formerly loose collection is growing bigger by the day and needs certain structures in order to keep functioning. We have a somewhat functional government, now we need to take the next step."
"Which would be?" the Durlan asked, intrigued.
"Law enforcement," Dox told him. "The various member worlds all have their own local law enforcers, of course, but we need someone to take care of interplanetary problems, too."
The Durlan nodded. "I understand that, but I thought this was the purview of the local Green Lantern, as well as your team of powered individuals, Kara-El. The... Justice Legion, I believe it was called?"
For reasons that escaped him, Kara-El chuckled. "Justice League. Though I do like the term 'Legion' as well, I must say."
"The Green Lanterns are great at their job," Dox said, "and Kara-El's team has done a lot of good around the galaxy, too, but they are few and mostly based on planet Earth. With the way the Alliance is growing, we need a much larger force to maintain peace and order in its territory."
Kara-El walked around the desk. "We plan to create an interplanetary police force, of sorts. Not just a few random individuals joint together at a local level, but a well-trained and well-equipped force of special individuals. Dox here," she gestured towards the Coluan, "has agreed to oversee the creation of this force. But this is more than one man alone can handle. He will need good people to help him. People such as you, Durlan."
"Me?" he asked, surprised. "But... I know nothing about law enforcement. Come to think of it, a lot of the things I did before coming here could easily be construed as law-breaking."
"Like I said, we heard a lot of good things about you regarding your work in the last two years," Dox told him. "You are a hard worker, diligent, have a talent for organization and communication, and your shape-shifting abilities will be a boon as well. It seems you are... adequate for the job."
The Durlan did not know it yet but receiving an 'adequate' from Vril Dox was a very, very high compliment. He thought it over. On one hand it seemed a very daunting task, something he had no experience in and had never really thought about before. Still... he had been looking for new experiences and adventures, hadn't he?
"So... what would we call this interplanetary police force then?" he asked.
"I have a list of possible names here that I...," Dox began.
"I think our friend already came up with a great name," Kara-El interrupted him.
Dox looked confused for a moment, then nodded. "Justice Legion? Isn't that a bit... too on the nose?"
Kara smiled. "What can I say? I like that name."
Thinking it over, the Durlan nodded. "It's got a nice ring to it, yes."
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 AWS
"If I had thought that I had led an exciting life before, well, I was proven wrong," Brande said, chuckling. "Meeting Kara-El was... it was something else, let me tell you. I know you have met her as well, Reep, though the Kara you met when she was briefly with the Legion was a far younger, far less imposing one then the one I encountered. When I met her, she had already accomplished so much, done so many great things, it was hard not to be in awe of her. She had no official position in the Free Worlds Alliance, but it was quite clear to everyone that she was the one in charge.
"And then there was Vril Dox, who – let me be entirely honest here – was a bastard. Oh, a well-meaning bastard, no doubt, who was working very hard to make life better for everyone, but still, a bastard. I cannot count the times I nearly strangled him to death for his arrogant, superior attitude. I think Kara and I were the only people in the entire universe who considered him a friend, everyone else pretty much hated his guts. Everyone respected him, but nobody liked him. And he was completely fine with that, too."
Pausing a moment, he walked over to the far wall of his office, where a sealed display case contained some of his most prized possessions. Among them was a badge made of gleaming silver, dulled with age, but still recognizable. It showed an open hand cradling a star. Few people remembered it these days, but once upon a time he had been very, very proud to wear it.
"And that was my life for the next few years. The first time I helped create a Legion," he chuckled. "Not the last time, naturally. And yes, I did have a certain talent for organization and getting things off the ground. So within a few months we had our first recruits and three years after that fateful meeting, the Justice Legion had a reputation almost as good as that of Kara-El's Justice League. There were quite a few members I remember well. Captain Comet. Starman. Lady Quark. Starfire. I even have a few fond memories of Lobo, if you can believe that."
Walking back to his desk, he sat back down. "All things come to an end, though, and oftentimes in very unexpected ways."
Life: Stranger in a Strange Land
Time and Place unknown
When the Durlan regained consciousness, he needed a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. He was... yes, he was on board the attack shuttle Phoenix. They had been... on a mission, yes. A mission to apprehend the self-styled 'Black Hole Gang', a notorious group of space pirates who plagued the trading lanes of the Free Worlds Alliance. Their hideout was sitting at the very edge of the black hole they took their name from. The Justice Legion had launched an attack on them, a dangerous mission due to the proximity of the singularity, and... something had happened. Something had gone wrong.
Looking around, he saw that the attack shuttle had seen better days. To put it bluntly, the ship was a wreck. And... great Shaper, his crew. He suddenly remembered what had happened. A blast from the Black Hole Gang's defenses had knocked his shuttle off course and they had drifted too close to the black hole's event horizon. The gravity had begun to draw them in and... that was all he could remember.
Becoming aware of the shape he was currently in, he pieced together what must have happened. The pilot must have tried to use the black hole's gravity to bolster their speed and slingshot back out to safety. It must have worked, given that the ship still existed instead of being compressed into a tiny little ball of metal, but clearly the inertial dampeners had failed at some point during the maneuver. Pure instinct had saved him, it seemed, as his body had automatically shifted into an incredibly dense, compact form that was highly resistant to g-forces. His poor crew had not been so lucky. None of them had survived.
He spent a minute in somber meditation, his limbs shifting into crude approximations of the good men and women he had lost on this mission. It was not the first time, of course, and it would probably not be the last, but he did his best to remember them all. Good people who had given their lives to make sure that the universe would become a better place. They deserved to be remembered.
That done, he focused on his own survival. The ship was clearly a loss. Emergency power was still on, it seemed, but all the instruments were dead, the ship travelling on through pure inertia. The main viewport was cracked, but still intact so the ship still retained atmosphere. Durlans could shift their shapes so as to survive in vacuum for a time if necessary, but for long.
Deciding that his only hope was for rescuers to find him, the Durlan spent the next few hours cobbling together a crude transmitter from whatever parts he could scavenge from the mess. When he finally succeeded, he set it to transmit a standard call for assistance and then sat down to wait, lacking anything better to do.
When the rescue finally came a long time later, the Durlan was completely dehydrated, malnourished, and more dead than alive. The sound of the Phoenix being pulled into the hangar of a much larger ship was what wrenched him out of his near-coma, and he did his best to assume his standard humanoid shape but was only partially successful. At least he no longer looked like a ball.
Two humans entered the ship once the hangar was pressurized again. They spotted him and seemed very confused. When they opened their mouths, the Durlan was confused as well, for while they did apparently speak Interlac, it was a dialect he had never heard before and could barely understand.
"I am sorry, could you repeat that?" he managed to ask.
More incomprehensible speech followed, one of the two humans looking rather unfriendly and dismissive. The other one, though, looked at him with empathy in his eyes.
"What... species... you?" he asked, speaking slowly, and using only basic words. The pronunciation was still weird, but he could understand it.
"Durlan," the Durlan asked without hesitation.
The impression on the face of the unfriendly human turned downright hostile and even the friendly one seemed a bit more cautious now. What was going on? Sure, his people weren't exactly the most popular race in the universe, but the Durlan had actually been of the impression that his own position as head of the Free Worlds Alliance police force had done a lot to change that.
The two humans had a short but hectic discussion. They were talking too fast for the Durlan to understand many words, but he did get the gist of it. The unfriendly one basically wanted to kick him to the curb, while the friendly one was arguing in his favor.
Finally they seemed to come to some sort of resolution and the unfriendly one left, his gestures suggesting that he was washing his hands of the whole affair. The other one came closer again and offered a hand to help the Durlan to his feet.
"Marla," the human said, pointing at himself. "Medical attention!"
The Durlan nodded, thankful that the human was supporting him, as he was too weak to do much of anything. As they walked out of the wreck of the shuttle and into the larger hangar, the Durlan was trying to identify his surroundings. Sadly the interior of the ship looked like no ship he had ever seen. The basic design was human-built, that much he could tell, but most of the instruments and such he could see were beyond him.
"Is this a ship of the Free Worlds Alliance?" the Durlan asked.
The human, Marla, just looked at him confused.
"Are you from Earth?" the Durlan asked instead. "Human?"
Now Marla nodded. "Yes, human. From Earth."
"Earth belongs to the Free Worlds Alliance," the Durlan said. "I am a member of the Justice Legion."
Now Marla was sadly back to looking confused. "Never heard. Earth belongs to United Planets."
The Durlan felt a chill going through his body that had nothing to do with dehydration or lack of food. He had the feeling that he was a lot farther away from home than he had suspected.
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 AWS
"It took me a while to figure out what had happened," Brande continued his dictation. "Somehow, and don't ask me how, when the Phoenix slingshot around the event horizon of the black hole, we must have reached relativistic speed and what appeared to be mere hours to me were actually centuries in the rest of the universe.
"Thankfully Marla, the human who had taken pity on me, was a friendly guy who was not only willing to help a Durlan – definitely not a given, as I found out, as my people had a bad reputation in the United Planets – but actually knew another Durlan. His name – among non-Durlans – was Theg Daggle and he was a shady character, a trader who traded in the stuff the United Planets did not want people to trade in. Apparently, he owed Marla some kind of favor for him turning a blind eye to something once.
"Theg was quite surprised to meet another Durlan and even more surprised when said Durlan spoke a dialect that was positively ancient. In the end we managed to communicate, I said my goodbyes to Marla, and Theg agreed to take custody of me. Unfortunately I realized too late what he meant by that. Because Theg took me back to the one place in the universe I really, really didn't want to go back to. Durla!"
He paused, gathering his thoughts as the next part of this story was not something he enjoyed remembering.
"Returning to Durla was quite the shock for me," Brande said, a sad look on his face. "Not only did I finally become aware how much time had passed, but my home planet had also changed beyond recognition.
"You know, of course, of the Six-Minute-War that devastated our world, reduced our once great cities to rubble, and forced our people to utilize our shape-shifting abilities merely to survive in the bombed-out ruins. Historians differ on when exactly it occurred, seeing as no records survived and barely any effort was made to reclaim that part of our history. I can only tell you that it happened after I left Durla in the 20th century and before I returned there in the 30th. So you can imagine what a shock it was to me.
"Anyway, things did not go well on Durla. It was a more paranoid and hostile place than ever. More than ten years we spent in that place, because once we were planet side, there was no way to get off again. We were stuck. The only good thing that happened to me there was Zhay, Theg's sister. After a few years we mated and impregnated each other. I even adopted her family name, Daggle, and – for the first time ever – selected a personal name for myself, Ren. For a brief time I was happy with Zhay. But like everything else on Durla, our relationship was poisoned by paranoia. Theg had unknowingly brought Yorggian fever to the planet, a disease that was fatal to Durlans unless treated by United Planets science. Of course Durlans neither knew nor cared about any cure the UP might have to offer, considering the entire universe outside of Durla to be off-limits, a place of evil.
"Zhay eventually died of the fever. Theg and I were sent into quarantine with the sure knowledge that, even if we were to somehow survive the sickness, someday soon we would lose our Durlan abilities and be locked into a single shape for the rest of our lives. After I gave birth to you, Reep, you and your sister Liggt were turned over to another of Theg's sisters, Ji, who raised you as her own. And I would not see either of you again for the next twenty years."
He sighed deeply. "I am very sorry for that, my boy, but at the time it was the best I could manage, the best possibly life I could give you. Life in quarantine on Durla was even worse than 'normal' life already was. The only plus side was that it brought Theg and me into contact with individuals crazy and ruthless enough to flout Durla's strictest laws and smuggle the two of us off planet. The ship we travelled on was a jury-rigged mess and we nearly died about half a dozen times before we even made it into orbit, but we really saw no other choice.
"We made it back into UP space and we received the treatments for the fever. And while paranoia towards Durlans wasn't even a tenth as bad in the UP as it was on Durla itself, Theg and I still decided that – while we still could – we would adopt human guises for ourselves. A short time later we lost our shape changing abilities for good and decided to make a fresh start of it all. We were humans now, after all. So we adopted human names. That was the birth of the Brande cousins, Doyle and René. The start of my current and final life."
Life: Billionaire Industrialist
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 ASW
Marla Latham entered the office of his boss, René Jacques Brande, carrying a bundle of Omnicoms with contracts that needed signing and an assortment of other paperwork uploaded and ready for review. Even in this day and age where physical pieces of paper were nothing more than cherished relics of days gone by, the amount of paperwork (still carrying that very archaic name) never seemed to lessen.
For five years now he had worked for this driven, ambitious man. Long enough to be let in on certain secrets, such as the fact that they had met once before twenty years earlier, when said man had still been a shape-changing Durlan far, far from home and down on his luck. Brande had never forgotten what Marla had done for him then and had returned the favor the moment he could, hiring him as his executive assistant. By this time, Marla was really the one who ran Brande Industries and had the salary to match.
"More paperwork?" Brande asked as he saw him approach.
"There is always more, René," Marla told him, smiling. Then his smile faded, though. "And... well, another nasty note from Doyle, too."
Brande sighed deeply. "Asking for money again, is he?"
"More like demanding," Marla growled. "It's basically a threat!"
The Brande cousins, René and Doyle, had created Brande Industries together. René was the one with the vision, imagination, and drive. Doyle, on the other hand, had been the canny businessman and negotiator. Together they had founded one of the greatest, most successful business empires in the history of the United Planets, creating the star-birthing industry from the ground up.
As the Brande empire had mushroomed, though, the two cousins had dealt very differently with their phenomenal success. René had flourished. Doyle, on the other hand, had caved under the pressure. Instead of working, he had begun spending exorbitant amounts of money on whatever distraction he could find.
"That poor, bitter man," Brande muttered.
"You gave him a more than generous sum when you bought him out," Marla reminded Brande. "It's not your fault he has already burned through all of it."
"I know," Brande sighed again. "I fear Doyle will soon come to an ugly end, my friend, and as much as I would like to prevent that from happening, I know that it's a useless endeavor."
Marla nodded. He knew that Brande had conflicting feelings towards the man most people believed to be his cousin. Marla's feelings, on the other hand, were far less so. Doyle had been a shady character back when Marla had known him as the Durlan Theg Daggle and becoming Doyle Brande had not changed him all that much.
"On to happier notes," Brande said, looking jovial again from one second to the next. "I am still considering what I can give back to the universe, Marla."
"The amounts you give to charity…," Marla began.
"I was put here for something more important than money, Marla," Brande said. "You can't take more from the universe than you give, it doesn't work like that. It's time I started giving instead of taking."
Marla knew that look on Brande's face. His friend and boss was still reluctant to share much of his past from before they first met. As far as any and all records were concerned, the Durlan Ren Daggle had appeared more or less out of thin air on that day decades ago. Marla always had the impression, though, that Brande had left something behind, something unfinished, and was now looking for a way to make amends to someone.
"You have any concrete plans for this… giving?" Marla asked.
"Nothing yet, I fear. Maybe this visit to Earth will inspire me. I'm hoping that the Superwoman museum will agree to sell me some of their less-popular artefacts for my private collection."
"Just do me a favor and take your private shuttle this time," Marla pleaded.
"Never," Brande replied, as Mara knew he would. "Personal contact is the ticket, Marla! Never lose touch with the common being!"
"But Doyle's threats…," Marla tried one last time.
"You miss life if you're not out there, Marla! I'm taking the Nova Express and that's final!"
Metropolis News Stream – Special Bulletin
We interrupt our regular program for a special news bulletin. There has been an attempt on the life of industrialist R.J. Brande. Immediate reports say the multi-billionaire, who was travelling commercial class on the Nova Express, was not wounded, we repeat, not wounded.
Witnesses report that the would-be assailants were apparently struck by bolts of energy before they could open fire. We are told that bystanders, possibly Brande's bodyguards, anticipated the attack. A young girl from Titan apparently used telepathy to warn Brande.
Another youth apparently disabled the sniper with an energy blast, possibly assisted by a Braalian companion. Space port security reports that both assailants are now in custody and awaiting the arrival of the Science Police.
Life: Financier of the Legion of Super-Heroes
Metropolis, approx. 1,000 ASW
"Of course you know how the story goes from there," Brande chuckled. "The rest, as they say, is history."
He folded his hands, leaning back in his chair.
"So this is it, my boy," Brande concluded his long monologue. "The lives and times of the Durlan, of Ren Daggle, of René Jacques Brande. Maybe someone will make a book out of this one day. Oh, excuse me, a holo-novel series, I mean. That will be up to you, I guess. So... I hope all this will help you understand me better, son. Why I wasn't always there for you and your sister, and why I did the things I did. I love you, Reep."
Turning the recorder off, Brande rose from his chair and walked over to the bar he kept in his office, where he poured himself a drink. Making his way back to the window, he raised his glass in salute.
"I hope you are watching, Vril, Kara, my old friends. I hope this wily old Durlan has made you proud."
Thinking of absent friends, he threw back his drink.
End Chapter 3
Author's Note: R.J. Brande, the financier of the Legion of Super-Heroes, experienced several retcons throughout the Legion's long publishing history. At first, he was just as he appeared on the surface, a rich guy who financed a superhero club because he was a fan of superheroes. Fast-forward a decade or two and it's revealed (aka retconned) that he is actually a Durlan and also the father of Legionnaire Reep Daggle aka Chameleon Boy. Enter the 1990s and we learn that not only is he a Durlan, he is THE Durlan, namely the previously unnamed Durlan who helped Vril Dox aka Brainiac 2 found L.E.G.I.O.N. in the 20th century before disappearing without a trace. Finally, it was revealed that this was part of the Time Trapper's efforts to create the Legion of Super-Heroes in the first place to counter the threat of Mordru. And then the Legion was rebooted half a dozen times and God alone knows what Brande's origin is nowadays or if he's even part of current continuity.
The Justice Legion I have described here in this chapter is, of course, my version of L.E.G.I.O.N., the 20th century predecessor of the Legion of Super-Heroes first created in 1989. I originally planned to call it L.E.G.I.O.N. here, too, but couldn't really come up with a way anyone would conceive of a name like "Licensed Extra-Governmental Interplanetary Operatives Network" in a natural way, especially with none of the people involved being native English speakers. They still use the same symbol, though, a stylized hand holding a starburst.
Lustig and his crew were briefly mentioned in Adventures of a Super Family Chapter 106. Kara's broadcast to the Dominion occurs roughly five minutes after the end of AoaSF chapter 107 and the Durlan / Brande first meets Kara and Dox around the time of AoaSF chapter 109. Bonus points to anyone who can tell me from which franchise the Black Hole Gang originates. We will see more of Brande and the Justice Legion in chapters to come.