DC2 Nemesis Prologue: Hawkman

“I tire of this, Kendra.” Katar Hol wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun pounded down upon him, the heat oppressed his every movement, and here was Hawkman, hero and card carrying member of the Justice League, without his wings. “Archaeology is my father’s field of expertise, not mine.”

“You need to get out more,” grinned Kendra Saunders, as she crouched down in a freshly dug trench. “All you do is wear that costume and sit in the Hall sharpening your weapons. No offence, Katar, but really: You need to get a life.”

Katar shook his head, but then smiled. “So then tell me, little bird, what we are doing here?”

“Don’t call me--” She rolled her eyes, and then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Katar touched his chest in mock surprise. “Me?”

“How is my student doing today?” Professor Trent Morgan approached Kendra, his red cheeks even redder for the sun overhead, with a smile on his lips. He wore all white, his pant legs brown from climbing about the digs, and kept pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I’m doing fine thanks, Professor. I’ve got a feeling about this site, I think this might be the big one.”

“And who am I to deny someone’s intuition?” He chuckled, his large girth quivering with each chortle. Katar looked on uneasily. “You keep at it.” He looked up at Hol. “And you sir, how are you today?”

“As I was yesterday, Professor. Hot.”

“Well as soon as we find something, I can return to the university triumphant, and you, my friend, can find some air conditioning.” He nodded in acknowledgment of Katar, who returned the gesture, and then climbed out the hole in the ground, heading toward another group of students.

“You didn’t have to be so brusque…”

“I don’t like him, Kendra. I can’t help that. Besides, who are you to deny someone’s intuition?”

She ignored the backhanded comment. “Professor Morgan is a leader in his field.” Kendra nonchalantly brushed away a thin layer of dirt from some rocks with a small brush, and then took a breather, looking up, tipping her large hat away from her eyes. “His classes are really interesting, and I don’t know, I’ve just got a really cool feeling about this dig. I had to be part of it.”

Katar nodded slowly. “And you had to drag me along with you?”

Kendra winked, before returning to work. “Exactly.”

“I’m going to return to the… hnn… to the trailer. Call me if you--” He paused. “Did you feel that?”

Kendra looked up once again. “What?”

“Like a shiver…” He looked down at the trench Kendra was standing inside. “Like a vibration? All the hairs on the back of my neck just stood up.”

“That’s a lot of hair. I don’t know, I didn’t feel anything,” Kendra looked down at the patch of soil in front of her. Something glistened. Katar jumped down into the hole, and his shadow loomed over her, but whatever was down there still glistened. “What is that?”

Kendra continued to brush away the dirt and rubble surrounding the strange artefact, until it became . “Hello…”

“I don’t like this at all, Kendra. There’s a feeling that is in the pit of my stomach and I don’t know why… I do not like any feelings in any part of my stomach .What is that thing?”

Kendra was surprised at his tone, but nodded. During her career as Hawkgirl, she’d seen many sides of Katar, and this was just another, the intensity crackling off him. She brushed away the dirt, revealing the hilt of something. She pulled on a glove, continued to dig away at the piece, until it was completely unearthed, and then pulled it out. “Whoa. I feel it now. That shiver--”

“Nth Metal.” It was a dagger. The hilt was comprised entirely of Nth Metal; at the bottom was a loop, and carved into it were runes that neither of the Hawks recognised. The blade itself was bleached bone, with a sliver of Nth Metal running through the centre and upwards, toward the tip. “Ok, this whole day just got much more interesting.”

“You think? What the hell is Nth Metal doing in Essex County?”

“I don’t know, Kendra,” Katar took the dagger from her, holding it between thumb and forefinger by the tip, “but I intend to find out.”

“We,” asserted Kendra, as she stood up, brushing herself down, “we intend to find out.”

“I said that, didn’t I?” replied Katar as he squeezed her shoulder lightly. “But I think you should remain here, and see if you find anything else.” He leaned toward her, “Keep in contact. I don’t like this.”



“Nothing,” Kendra was drying her hair with a towel as she entered the lab beneath the Hall of Justice, where Katar was working side by side with Ray Palmer. “No other traces of Nth Metal except the artefact you have there.”

“I thought not,” nodded Katar, as he watched Ray at work. “It is Nth Metal. All tests say so. But why it was where we found it? We have no answer to that.”

“Have you contacted Carter?”

“Of course,” replied Hol, “it was the first thing I did. He told me he’d never been to that dig site. He also told me to keep him updated.”

“Helpful.”

“Very.”

“Right, ok Hawk-peoples,” quipped Ray, as he turned away from his workbench and faced the other two in the lab. “You dragged me away from my wife, and so you will listen to what I say, and you shall adore me for it: This is Nth Metal, but it’s not of the configuration that Carter Hall uses. Egyptian, I mean. When that Thanagarian spaceship fell to Egypt all those years ago, we know that they melted it down into shapes better suited to the Egyptians. That’s the type that your father uses.” A photo of Carter Hall’s equipment flashed onto the scream, and then, beside that, the dagger that they had recovered from the dig site. The Atom pointed at the magnified the runes on the hilt. “And these aren’t hieroglyphs, and to be honest, I have no idea what they are.”

“Well that does not fill me with confidence…?” Katar shook his head. “This is getting weirder and weirder every minute.”

“Yeah, I know. This also piqued my interest--” He pointed to the loop at the base of the hilt, “There seems to be some wear and tear here, and I’m going to theorise, due to the simple fact that we’ve got some really high-tech amalgam technology here, that this weapon is one of a pair.”

“A pair?”

“Yes, the weight of whatever caused this indentation,” he magnified the image, “would suggest that something of equal weight was connected to a thin cord, and gradually they just wore into each other. Right now, that’s all I have for you.” Ray shrugged. “I’ll continue analysis, of course, but there is one thing that I should have noted first: On the dagger blade itself, and running down the seam between bone and Nth Metal…”

“Blood?” offered Katar.

Ray blinked. “Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s a dagger, Ray, what else would it be used for but bloodletting?”



“You can see me.”

Katar burst out from his bunk, the dagger he kept beneath his pillow drawn and ready. In the dark of his room at the Hall, the blade sang a quiet song, and with a quick glance around, he suddenly realised he was alone.

He returned the knife to its home and leaned forward, running his hands through his long black hair. That voice. It had been a week since they found the dagger, the weird, alien dagger that should not have been where it was. And since that day… the dreams had come. Back on Thanagar, they had a simple cure for bad dreams: Don’t sleep.

“Well,” sighed Katar, as he climbed out of bed. “So be it.”



“He has been quiet,” noted Ralph Dibny, as he looked up at Kendra Saunders, who had arrived without warning, at his home in Central City. “But Kendra… he’s never not been quiet, so maybe you’re just reading too much into his military stoicism?”

“It’s been three weeks.” Kendra took a sip from the coffee she had been poured by Sue Dibny, who was standing behind the pliable detective, “I don’t know, Ralph, I just get this feeling…”



He breathed in. Katar Hol, flying above the world, breathed in. He felt the air shift, high above the Earth, and he knew where to go. The Nth Metal harness spoke to him, as it spoke to the air, and as the air spoke to it. This dialogue, unheard by everyone else, enabled him to know where he was needed, and when… his wings flapped, he shot through the air, and headed downwards. A noise had caught his ear, and as he brought up his weapon--

--The mace slammed down on the bonnet of the car with such force that it tore the engine out from inside, the car stopping dead in its tracks, and the driver and passenger hurtling through the winds screen straight into the waiting arms of Hawkman. He pulled them both up, one in each arm, and snarled. “You… threaten innocents? For what?” He dropped them down, and pulled his mace up from out of the car. “For money?” He pointed the weapon at their faces. “If this were Thanagar, you would not get away so lightly.” The squeal of sirens filled the air. “But as it is… you’ll do your time, and when you get out…?” His wings flapped, he lifted off, up into the air. “…I’ll be waiting.”



“For a few weeks now, he’s just been… out there. I don’t know if it’s because I’m just not used to this whole business yet, but it’s not healthy. And I have been doing this for a while now… it’s just… he’s out all the time, basically looking for a fight. And he comes back to the Hall to pull bullets out of his side, or stitch up a knife wound, and I’m just worried…” She shook her head, and then looked up at Sue. “He’s such an infuriating man!”

“Like Batman with wings,” replied Ralph, as he stood up. “Right, so we need to talk to him, don’t we? If you’re really worried then the League--”

Kendra bit her lip. “I’ll… I’ll handle it, Ralph. I’ll talk to him. You know if we all confront him he’ll just shut himself off from us. That’s his way. But maybe I can get him out of this rut; I just needed to talk it through.” She stood, and smiled again. “Sue, thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime. See you next League meeting.”

Kendra nodded. “Yeah, you too, Ralph.”



He grunted. The Nth Metal dealt with the damage, but if he wanted to fix his shoulder, dislocated in an altercation between himself and a stolen van (he hadn’t thought that placing himself between it and the open road would have been a bad idea), he would have to get it back into place. He looked around, and leant his head against the cold metal wall of his room. “Okay. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slammed the arm against the surface, the sharp, wet CRRKT telling him it was done. The pain had subsided, and his shoulder was back in place.

“Katar?”

He turned, and Hawkgirl, dressed for action, was at his doorway. “Kendra--”

She interrupted him. “Hey, Katar? Don’t. I need you to talk to me. I’m not going to beg, or sit down and ask you about your feelings. I’m telling you, I need you to talk to me. Right now. What’s wrong?”

He looked at her. His blue eyes focused on her completely, and she could feel them on her face. They shared a bond, deeper than friendship, and as much as they jokingly acted hostile toward each other… Katar sighed. “I’ve been having dreams. I don’t… normally dream. Not like this.” He sat down, and Hawkgirl sat beside him. “They’re so vivid, but they shouldn’t be my dreams.”

“How so?”

“In my dreams, people are dying. Now, I have fought in wars, but this isn’t right. These are murders at the hands of… I can’t describe it. And the one constant in these dreams is that damned knife. I see it. My eyes are the eyes of the bastard who is doing this. I wish I could do something about it! But it’s like they’re memories. And not mine.”

“We’ll talk to J’onn, he’ll--”

Katar put up his hand. “No. I have to do this myself.”

“Katar, you’re Justice League, you don’t have to do anything alone.”

“I’m not,” he smiled solemnly, his hand stroking her cheek without him really acknowledging it. She caught her breath, and he realised what he was doing, and abruptly stopped. “I have you… if I need you. But right now, I have to do this alone. I have to find out what this means.”

“Right. Then I guess that’s it then.” She stood up, blushing beneath her mask, and headed for the door. “You know my frequency. Don’t hesitate.”

“I never do. Not when it comes down to it… Little bird.”



The door bell rang. Sue Dibny huffed and placed the tray of cookies on a cooling rack on the side, and removed her oven gloves. “Ralph? Honey?” She looked out at the window, and saw her husband, Ralph, mowing the lawn, and smiled. She quickly rushed to the front door, and opened it with a smile. “Well this is certainly a surprise,” Sue Dibny smiled as Katar Hol entered her home in full costume, and he nodded in thanks for the welcome. She popped her head out of the door and waved. “Good evening Mrs Spelling! Lovely night, yes? See you tomorrow!” She closed the door, and then turned to the newly arrived hero. “What brings you to Central City, Katar?”

Hol stood awkwardly in the hallway, looking around for Ralph. He was in full costume, and in suburbia especially, that made him look very much out of place. Also, hanging off his shoulder was a satchel bag, and Sue eyed this suspiciously, but then continued to smile.

“I’m hoping to speak to Ralph…. I hope this is not a problem.”

“Well you could have used your League communicator, but I’m sure you have your reasons not to…” She took a deep breath. Katar waited. “He’s in the garden. Go on out. Do you want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

She smiled. “Are you sure? I could make you some tea, a coffee…?”

Katar arched an eyebrow. “Some water then, please. Thank you.”

Sue pointed him to the back door, and then watched as he trudged outside. Ralph looked up from the mower, and smiled. “Katar! What can I do you for?”

“I have need of your deductive abilities, Ralph. I’m working what you could call a… solo case… and I was wondering--”

“You want a team-up?” Ralph perked up suddenly. “The Brave and the Bold! The Bold and the Beautiful! The Beautiful and the really hairy winged guy?” He scratched his chin. “You wanted a team-up?”

“No, I was wondering if you could take a look at something for me.”

“Oh.” He didn’t stop smiling. “I can do that.”

Dibny’s study was just as a detective’s study should be. Bookcases lined each of the four walls, journals and pieces of paper littered the desk, and as Katar entered behind the pliable detective, Ralph stretched out his arms. “This, my friend, is where I do the fun stuff. I mean, it’s all well and good to be out in the field, solving problems when presented, but it’s from here I solved the ‘Mystery of the Moving Masterpieces over in Midway City’! It’s here where I do my best work!”

“Interesting…” Katar opened up his bag and pulled out notes and photographs, and many pages of printouts. “I’ve been studying an artefact, and I’ve had some success translating the language inscribed on the hilt, but I was wondering if you would be a second pair of eyes.”

“That I can do, Katar.” Ralph piled up his work, and placed it beside him on the floor, and then took all the pages Katar had and laid them out so he could see every page. Sue entered at that moment, with a pot of tea and a glass of water. “Thanks, Bunny.” He turned to Katar. “It may take me some time. I’ll read a few books. I’ll have a look. I’ve just got to find something I can get my nose around…” His nose twitched. “… And we’ll be sorted.”

“I’m going to follow up a lead.” Katar sipped his water. “I’ll keep in touch. Thank you for this Ralph, I’ll call you if I have any more information.”

“Pleasure, Katar.”

Hawkman finished his water, and smiled at Sue. “Thank you, Mrs Dibny. See you at the next League meeting, I hope.”

“I hope…”

He left the house, and flew up in the sky. Ralph and Sue watched him vanish into the night. “I smell a mystery, love.”

“You always smell a mystery, baby.” Sue kissed Ralph on his quivering nose. “Get to work. I baked cookies. I’ll bring you a few.”

“That’s my lady love,” grinned Ralph.



In the air, he was focused. He was at one with everything when he was up among the thermals. He could feel everything. It was like breathing to him. The world breathed out as he breathed in, and he was aware of it all. Like a heart within a chest, that was how he felt about the world and the sky. He knew, innately, where he was headed. Even if he didn’t have that thing strapped to his side, he would know. He had never been lost in his life. Never felt lost. Never had the opportunity to be. He didn’t know if it was his Thanagarian physiology or upbringing, or maybe the Nth Metal he had strapped to his chest, but he always knew where to go. Sometimes, he didn’t like it. He wanted to know what it was like to feel… lost? He ignored the thought, and pushed onwards.

He floated. Nth Metal allowed him that. His wings arched over his head, not flapping, but poised ready. The wings allowed him direction, fluid movement, but right now, just floating in mid air, the Nth Metal was at work. Dreams resonated within his being. He opened himself up, felt the reverberations of emotion hit him, and he absorbed it, all the time knowing… something was wrong.

He had not been sleeping. When he had found himself wandering between consciousnesses and not, he’d been struck with images that he’d never experienced before. They were of events… people… things… that he’d not experienced himself, but the way they struck him… Felt so real. He awoke from these half-dreams feeling ill. He did not like that feeling. He did not like the feeling of weakness. So instead of dreaming, of sleeping, he fell back onto the properties of the Nth Metal, and allowed that to rejuvenate him. He threw himself into battle, but found himself, with every battle… Tired. Not needing sleep, but more like a need of something else… he held the Nth Metal dagger in his hands. Ray had run all the tests he could have considered running, and now it was just an artefact. A piece of history.

“Why am I here?” he asked himself. The answer was simple: He had been drawn here. He looked at the hilt, as it reflected the pale moonlight, and the shiver that had ran down his neck that first time he had been in its presence returned. The University creeping high in the sky, and the shiver caught him squarely in the back. He floated down, toward the Library entrance, and entered, his hand on the hilt of his mace, ready for anything.

He heard a scratching, and his hand tensed, his mace eased out of its holster and ready to be used. He didn’t fly, the looming bookshelves pinning him in and making his wings useless. He followed the noise, his grip tight upon the mace, and turned a corner, only to be confronted by a smallish man who was sitting at a desk, a simple candle light illuminating him. He was arched over something, and the scratching continued. Hawkman crept forward, ever silent, and then placed his spare hand on the mans shoulder, who abruptly let out a shriek as he was confronted by this shadowed half man half hawk thing behind him. “AHHHHHHHHH!”

Katar’s eyes widened, and holstered his weapon, putting his hands up, attempting to calm the man. “I’m sorry! I’m Hawkman, of the Justice League, I mean you no harm!”

The man caught himself, clutching his chest. “What are you doing here?!”

“I was hoping you could tell me. What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I’m the chief librarian here.” He put out his hand, which Katar took, “I’m Jared Armitage. Are you looking for a book?”

“A book?”

“Yes, well, we here at the university are renowned for our collection of rare books, including, Unaussprechlichen Kulten? Do you want to read the Black Book? Or, umm, ah, you couldn’t possibly want to read the Necronomicon? If so, there is a waiting period and many releases you have to sign before you get to look at it. University policy.”

“No, I’m not here for a book.” Katar glanced down at what the librarian had been scribbling, and his interest was piqued. “I recognize the language you’re writing…”

“Then you are familiar with the Necronomicon!”

“Hmm?”

“I have been translating pages! We recently acquired, from a dig in Damascus, a complete, original, first edition, hand written version of the Necronomicom! Though, of course, it wasn’t called that back then--”

Katar ground his back teeth together. “No, of course not.”

Jared ignored him, and continued. “Yes, so we have our copy of the Al Azif, completely different from the copies we’ve had in the past, and the staff here, well, they think it’s cursed, and I’m just thinking… That’s impossible, right? I mean, accidents happen around it, but accidents happened around the opening of the tomb of Tutankhamun! And to be honest, that was fueled by the press. If you look at the deaths and the details of the deaths--”

“Do you recognize this?” Katar removed the dagger from his belt, and placed it in front of the librarian.

Armitage looked at it, the color draining from his face as he did so. “W-where did you find this?

“West of here. Excuse me, I need to contact a colleague,” he turned, and put a finger to his ear. “Ralph?”

There was a rustle of static, and then he could hear Ralph Dibny’s voice in his ear. “Katar, what have you got for me? I’m making a bit of headway into this thing, but it’s dense. I have an inkling that I know the language, but where to place it--”

“It’s an eighth century text, Ralph. From the Necronomicon.”

“That’s it! I knew I recognized it! I have a copy somewhere--”

“Excuse me?!”

Armitage looked up. “Are you talking to me?”

“No, sorry,” he tapped his ear. “Radio. Excuse me?!”

“Not an original, but Sue… oh, it’s a long story. Now that I have a frame of reference, this’ll be a stroll through the park. I’ll contact you when I have more information. Stay safe.”

“You too.” The line closed, and Hawkman turned to Jared. “The language you are translating, it is the same as the one on the hilt, am I right? That cannot be a coincidence.”

“This is a twin blade; I’ve read of such things. The metal supposedly connecting the two weapons together through a link stronger than history. The legend, if you’ll allow me…” Armitage vanished in between the aisles of the library, and returned, moments later, carrying two books. “Right, so, twin blade…” He flicked to a page in the first book, bound in a thick leather covering, which had the depiction of the blade, and its twin, in the centre of the page. “There you go, and the legend…” He handed the book to Katar, and he read about how it was a sacrificial weapon, whilst Armitage carefully fingered his way gingerly through the pages of the second book. “Right, yes, here we go, ah, my German is rusty … ‘the blood bond shared by these two weapons will last forever, if separated, the metal of the hilt will sing through generations until they are reunited’.”

Katar laid out the clues in his head. It all made sense. Nth Metal was psycho-receptive, so if these two were linked somehow, his own experience with the metal, his own prolonged exposure could, in theory, explain his dreams. He’d never experienced anything like this on such a scale, but it could make sense… “Where’s the other dagger?”

“Well… that’s the thing… it’s in the Archeology department. They’ve had it for decades, and I know that Professor Morgan has been looking for its twin for half that time, ever since he came into the school.”

“Hhn.”

“Do you want me to take you to it? God, this is exciting, don’t you think?”

Katar looked at him. “It’s a mystery, Jared Armitage. And that only means one thing.”

“What? What does it mean?” He was eager. It almost made Katar smile, that giddiness leaping out of his pores.

“We solve it.” Katar nodded slowly. “Take me to the dagger.”



The university was dark at this time of night. Katar could hear, with his naturally heightened Thanagarian senses, the heartbeats of others in the building, but they avoided contact with others until they passed through an open orchard between library and faculty building, and reached the archeology department. “So we’re looking for the twin dagger, which should be in the Professor Morgan’s personal archive…”

“I hope we’re not doing anything illegal, Jared…”

Armitage looked at him. “Illegal? Please. I have keys.”

The two men entered the office, and Armitage scurried in front of Katar, whose hand was now tightly on his mace. Jared opened the large oak door behind the large oak desk, and it groaned open. “What’s this place?”

Armitage grinned. “This is where Professor Morgan keeps the good stuff. The stuff that doesn’t have a place in any of the displays, or isn’t requested by other universities. Trent calls it the ‘Private Collection’.”

Hol nodded slowly, and looked down at his foot, his eyes drawn down to a line of salt that was around the threshold of the private room. He crouched down, picked some up, and then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, the salt trickling back down. “Interesting.”

“Greedy more like,” shrugged Armitage, his back turned. “It’s the weird stuff. The creepy stuff. Morgan has a kinky antique fetish. But enough about his tendencies, you want the twin knife…” He looked through the leather bound hand written catalogue that was resting on Morgan’s desk. “We’re looking for…” His finger trailed down the page, and his eyes lit up. “Alright, box number thirty five.” He placed the book back down, hurried into the room.

“Where did you go?”

“I’m in here…” Armitage popped his head out of the vault, and grinned. “You saw me go in. Why?”

“I can’t hear you.” He stepped inside the vault. “These walls… They’re lined with something that’s absorbing the sound. That’s strange.” He stepped out again. “It’s playing havoc with my head, weird vibrations.” Flexing his wings, he looked over at Armitage. “Continue, please.”

“Right. Ok, so… thirty… thirty one… two… three… four… seven… wait… ok… one, two, three, four, seven… wait. Jesus. Ok. Hey, what’s…” He fell silent, and Katar, leaning against the wall, waiting for him to come back out, looked over toward the room.

“Armitage?”

He leaned forward.

“Jared?”

Armitage stumbled forward, clutching his chest. “Guh. Guh.” He opened his hands, and blood spluttered out from a hole in his chest. “Gah. Guh. Juh. Jee. Jesus.”

Hol bolted forward, and put pressure on the wound, “Jared, stay with me, don’t…”

Jared looked at him, his hands shaking as the reached up at Katar’s head. “Muh. Muh. Mur.” His flesh lost all colour, his hands stopped shaking, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. A hiss emerged from his throat, and black blood dribbled out from his mouth.

“Damn it.” He looked up to the vault, where a man stood, a hood covering his face, an exact copy of Katar’s dagger in his hand tucked into his belt dripping with the librarian’s blood. The twin dagger. Hawkman didn’t have time to shout a warning, as the man darted around a corner, hidden by shadow, and the wall roared as a secret passage opened up to embrace him. Katar flew straight forward into the chamber, and shot straight for the passage, but was too slow as it began to swing closed. He brought up his mace, swung it against the wall as he screamed in defiance, and it crashed down, brick and debris scattering everywhere. As he trudged forward, he saw the attacker turn a corner.

“Stop,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He grunted, and then pressed forward, his mace tapping against his hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The passage was shrouded in complete darkness, and with a moment’s pressure on the side of his mask, night vision lenses moved into position and allowed him to move forward without walking into the walls that pressed at his shoulders. He retracted the wings on his back and turned, and began to listen. He heard the scuttling of the man ahead of him somewhere. Impolite, violent thoughts formed in his head.

--The light came out of nowhere.

Shards of pain struck him through his eyes, his brain seized up, and as the floor dropped out from underneath him, he couldn’t form a coherent thought. His wings moved outwards on pure instinct, and the Thanagarian metal scratched and bent as they scrambled at the tight stone walls around him, slowing his descent as sparks flew. Katar hit the ground hard, his formerly dislocated shoulder taking the brunt of the landing and mashing together flesh and muscle. The metal of his wings was completely distorted, the metal ‘feathers’ bending inward and clawing at his arms and tearing up his costume. He removed them, and dumped them to his side. “Damn.” Katar looked up, focus coming in through the blur that surrounded his eyes and grunted. He was at the bottom of a pit, and in no way was he a happy man. Holding his mace tight in his hand, he looked around and realized that he was in another section of the labyrinthine corridors beneath or around the university. He saw that there was a tunnel leading forward, and with no other option but to move onwards…

He reached the end of the passage and the corridor opened up into a large amphitheatre that reached high into the cavern. They must be deep underground, surmised Hawkman, as his grip tightened, and he slipped his empty hand into the handle of his katar, the perfectly balanced weapon that he had recently acquired for his arsenal, presently strapped to his back. He had seven other weapons hidden about his person, but they would better serve him as they were, and as he entered this strange underground theatre, he heard applauding. “Hawkman. Wow, a God’s honest hero. In the belly of the beast, as it were.”

Katar pointed his mace at the cloaked man. His hands were covered in blood, and in the shadows behind the man, who had emerged from the stage that was before the Thanagarian, was the sound of whispering. He was not alone. “Drop the charade and reveal yourself, Morgan. Do not make me hurt you.”

The hooded man pulled down his hood, and grinned. Professor Trent Morgan stood before Hawkman, behind him, emerging from the darkness, flanked by dozens of similarly dressed men and women. “I thought the rubber one was the detective.”

“Knees.”

Morgan chuckled. “Excuse me?”

“On them or I break them.”

Morgan went pale, and then laughed, awkwardly. “Bravado will get you nowhere, Hawkman. Abandon hope. You are without your wings. You are outnumbered. You are about to witness the birth of something new and vicious and real.” He slammed his fist into his open palm. “Something birthed by us, by our faith. Your God is dead, Hawkman. Long live the Circle.”

Hawkman looked up at the men and women, who opened their robes to reveal their weapons. Guns. Cultists with guns. They had the higher ground. He was without his wings. He wished, at that moment, that he had a gun. Guns were helpful in these situations. “You couldn’t kill me if you--”

THT.

He caught something in his side, where his shoulder was exposed. He looked at the thing in his shoulder and then back at the man who had fired, whose hands were shaking. Katar laughed for no reason at all. “Really?”

THT. THT. THT.

Again, he was caught in the chest, needles piercing his armor and exposed flesh and pumping him full of something. Thoughts became distant. He pointed his mace at the man firing the weapon, and the man froze completely.

And then Katar fell over.

*

Kendra Saunders soared high up above the Hall of Justice. This is where she cleared her head. She still hadn’t gotten over the fact that she could fly. That she was the hero known as Hawkgirl. It was all too surreal. She grinned, flipped back, and dove downwards.

A buzz of static in her ear alerted her to the radio channel opening. She recognized the call sign. “Ralph?”

“Kendra, no time for pleasantries, Katar’s gone off the grid, and I’m worried.”

“This is Katar we’re talking about, are you sure it’s not just him being him?” Even as she said the words, she knew that she wasn’t convinced. Katar was driven, but he wasn’t reckless.

“Well, that’s not just it. I’ve been working on some translations for him, called some universities across the world, emailed out the pages, and…. I think you should get over here. We’ve cracked it.”

Kendra headed down to the Hall of Justice. “I’m on my way.”

*

Everything blurred.

He focused on the one thing he could hear.

The gloating tone was undeniably Morgan’s. As Katar tried to move, it became apparent that his body was dead weight, strapped down in the centre of the amphitheatre and his head yanked back and tied tight, chin up and eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Thank you for bringing the twin back to me…”

The voice was distant, but as he spoke, Katar could hold onto it, pull himself back to consciousness. “…Hrrrrhhh?” He couldn’t form a coherent sentence though.

“We pumped you full of enough tranquilizer to take down a rhino for twenty years. Your being awake is a shame, because this next part will hurt…”

“Hhhhh…”

“You see… These weapons are history. Ancient, glorious history. Their blades share a unique bond that resonates with memory. Do you want to know where they’re from, Hawkman? Do you really want to know…?”

“Hhhnn…”

“… Someone absconded with this special metal ore from Egypt, traveled north east till they hit Babylon, and then,” he paused. “I have to remind you, right here, that this is all supposition, because the facts get a bit foggy, ok?”

Katar nodded slowly. “Continue.”

“… they met a mad old Arab with something on his mind that he had to get down on parchment. He wrote a very famous book, heh, and then, when he died a rather horrendous death, that someone took the half-crazed Arab’s masterpiece and transcribed passages onto the blade. Or maybe, my friend, it was the over way round. Maybe the knife inspired the madness, and the words written in the Necronomicon were inspired by this piece of perfect weaponry. Regardless, that someone? He killed. He killed and fed the blade, and soon it lusted for death. So much so, that if you took the weapon, and had the right ritual, that it could carve open reality, and you could enter the dead sunken city, and witness the rise of the greatest God ever realized. Yes, eventually he was stopped by the second blade, but the power within the sacrificial weapon… Is beyond belief. It’s lucky you brought me the second dagger. I didn’t want to move forward with the ritual without knowing that I held all the pieces. It’s been from port to port, sold and bartered for, until it ended up outside our very doorstep. We at the Miskatonic Archaeology Department thank you much…”

“…” Katar mumbled something that Morgan couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“…”

Morgan leant in close to the bound hero’s mouth. “What?”

“I… am going… to hurt… you.”

Morgan leaned back up, laughed, and then looked down at Hawkman, who just nodded slowly. “Heh, well, hmm, yes, on with the show. You’re actually doing the world a big favour, Hawkman. You’re, for the moment, saving the life of an innocent. You see, if you weren’t here, then we’d have had to pick up some random man or woman off the campus and slit their throat and bleed them dry. Instead you’ll be the lucky one.”

He swiped down with the blade, and Morgan grinned.

“Luck… has got nothing to do with it…” Katar gripped Morgan’s hand tightly, the blade glistening in the dim candle light that surrounded the room, the tip of the dagger hovering just above the Thanagarian’s jugular. He had wrenched his arm free, but the rest of him was still bound to the table. “It’s skill…” He pulled Morgan forward, using his own momentum against him, and then pulled his head free and delivered a bone crushing head butt that sent the Professor tumbling back down. “…And the willingness to do what others won’t.” He freed himself in seconds, and noting his lack of body armor, dove behind the stone table as he pushed it over. The cultists had their weapons, and all he had… He checked himself. He had a dagger that was inside his trouser leg, hidden, and a second weapon elsewhere that hadn’t been discovered in their body search. His wrecked uniform had been cut off, and right now, he was a walking target. He brandished his weapon tightly, then spotted his Nth Metal harness on the stage.

“Very well then.”

He leapt forward, threw his knife at the cultist with the tranquilizer gun, and it hit the man squarely in the shoulder, causing his finger to twitch against the trigger, darts hitting the men and women around him indiscriminately. That took care of five, but there were two dozen still there, still wanting his blood, literally, apparently. He landed on the stage after a forward roll and somersault, and within seconds, had the harness against his chest. He felt energized. Whatever traces of tranquilizer left in his system was processed as the Nth Metal went to work, and he ducked down as a cultist went for him. He pulled the cleverly concealed weapon out from behind his back, and slashed at the man’s palm, the sudden gash of pain making him drop his weapon, and then as weapons were raised and cocked--

He leapt up as the barrage begun, the Nth Metal sending him flying up, his momentum guiding him. He hit the roof, and knowing that he had no real flight control, chose his next move as best he could.

Morgan grimaced, his nose was gushing with blood, and his intended victim was now beating up his family. “The Circle…” He looked at the dagger. “This was never about me. This was about Him.” He drove the twin blade into his chest, the Nth Metal piercing his heart and killing him instantly. He fell to the floor, and in the mayhem, no one noticed his blood pool into the runes that had been carved into the concrete floor below. No one noticed reality fracture. TOOM. The fight continued.

Katar was looking for his weapons. He was an adept close quarters combat fighter, and even if he hadn’t been before the Justice League, sessions learning Martian Judo from J’onn and the art of street fighting from Bruce ensured that he was now. He kept moving, darting in and out of the rafters delivering devastating attacks on the thinning cultists.

Finally, his Nth Metal mace catching his eye on a chair at the back of the amphitheatre, he dove down, and reclaimed his favorite weapon. “Home now.” He looked up, and realized that he had taken care of the ‘threat’ offered by the zealots. And also came to realize that there was a bigger threat forming right now. TOOM.

In the centre of the amphitheatre there was a fracture growing in midair. Something inside was pounding against the walls to get out. With every TOOM that echoed out, as cracks in reality formed, Katar knew that he had mere moments to act. He stepped forward, and raised his mace. “Die, you--”

“Katar, no!” He span around as Hawkgirl and Elongated Man, entered the amphitheatre from the same winding corridor he had arrived through. Kendra reached toward him, hand open wide, and her words echoed around the room. “Your mace will exacerbate the situation, but the second knife, its sole purpose is to stop this from happening!”

TOOM! TOOM! TOOM!

Ralph rushed forward, “It’s true; the translation tells us that the weapon is used to stop the evil brought about by the first blade. The psychic resonance of all that death and murder has somehow corrupted the first weapon entirely, and because of the Nth Metal that connects them, purified the second into becoming some sort of holy weapon! Only it can strike down whatever is coming through that hole in reality!” b]TOOM! TOOM!

Katar rushed to Morgan, and Kendra watched as the hole began to open wide. TOOM! TOOM! “Hurry…” TOOM!

“I’m looking!” Katar tore open the man’s robes and found the second dagger tucked into the Professor’s belt, and then, flying toward the hole, dagger raised, he stabbed down, and with a flash of light the Nth Metal began to hum and glow, and then, as something reached out at that last moment and touched Katar’s face, as he howled in defiance and focused his entire being into that dagger stroke--

The noise stopped. The light faded, and Hawkman, Hawkgirl and Elongated Man stood in the middle of this underground theatre, surrounded by unconscious cultists, and looked at each other. “Well,” smiled Ralph, “that was anticlimactic.”

Kendra embraced Katar tightly and then released him, moved back slowly and looked him in the eye. “Are you ok, Katar?”

“I… I’m fine,” Katar smiled weakly, and nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Great.” She grinned. “Let’s go talk to the police upstairs. You’ve got a whole lot of explaining to do. Miskatonic University doesn’t take kindly to cultists of any kind starting some doomsday procession underneath its floors…”

“Ralph… Kendra…” Katar looked to his two team-mates and smiled. “I’m honored to call the two of you my friends.... The fact that you helped stop me from accidentally causing the apocalypse doesn't hurt” He laughed heartily, and then looked at the two other heroes, who had gone some what pale. “Anyway, let’s head upstairs. I want to see the sky.”