#11: Devils Dance Pt. 1: "The Becoming"

"Do you know what day it is today?" General Immortus asked Catman as the two walked slowly down the winding corridors in the catacombs of Peña Duro. "It's an important day to the world, that much is true, but do you know why?"

"No," said Catman, "I try to keep abreast of the world but I don't care for unnecessary celebrations and holidays. Valentines Day, Father's Day, Mother's Day, all that bull£$%^, corporate crap. So, what's this 'important day', General?"

Immortus's lips formed a thin smile and he patted Thomas Blake on the back, his strength catching Catman off guard. "Today is the anniversary of the day that Earth fought off Darkseid, that the Justice League were formed, and we took a brave step into a new world of super-gods and ultra-dimensions. The first day of a new age."

"Huh, interesting," said Catman, nodding. "And we're, what, celebrating? Drinking brewskies?"

"'Brewskies'? Oh, no, we're not. We're not drinking our 'brewskies', Catman." Immortus sighed. "Luthor sang your praises to such a degree, m'lad, and I'm thoroughly disappointed in your character so far. I must not see what he saw."

"So what's the deal?" said Catman, clearing his throat. "What're we doing?"

"Our source inside Alcatraz has given us a few words," Immortus said, "that there's someone threatening to overthrow the President of the United States and take America in a bold new direction. Thing is, Thomas, we like the direction that the U.S. is taking. Not too bold, not to weak, it's the mediocrity we can all survive with."

"Who's the source?" Catman asked.

"Hector Hammond," said Immortus. "A new Rogue, one of Green Lantern's. He's a psychic on a massive scale but his gift came with a mutation that has made it impossible for him to move. His skull is twenty times the average size and his brain is sitting comfortably within that."

"I've heard of him," nodded Catman, "ugly mother."

"That too," said Immortus. "The psychic blocks short out periodically in his cell, down in the basement of Alcatraz-- something organised by Gizmo, one of the Fearsome Five. You might have heard of them? But I digress. During the time we set up for him to roam the world free of constraint, his consciousness brushed past another inside the prison and he informed us of this development the next time there was a window of opportunity."

"What did he say then?"

"It was Parasite," interrupted Doctor Malthus, working away in the laboratory that Immortus had lead Catman inside. There were men and women in white lab coats everywhere, working away in their own private sections. Bane had adapted the catacombs of Peña Duro with a genius' precision but, while the scientists were all working individually, Catman could see that they were all working on the same thing. "Parasite, with his distinct thought patterns, walked into Alcatraz disguised as a guard. He devoured Mindeater's powers and walked back out."

"What?" said Catman. "Why would he do that?"

"Parasite is off the grid," said Immortus, "no longer affiliated with the Society. He was The Voice's lackey and was given strange perks."

"We all heard rumours," nodded Catman as he prowled about the lab. Doctor Moon looked up from his workstation at that sentiment and murmured to himself uncomfortably. They had all heard the rumours. Pathetic villains didn't last long in the Society. They were inducted and taken to one side, given special missions. Special missions that lead them straight into Rudy Jones's grubby hands. Sure, it worked in its own way to improve productivity, to make people work their hardest, but when someone you know vanishes in the most horrendous of barely hushed up circumstances... the fear created is counter-intuitive for a group of super-villains. "The weakest of the herd vanished under Hub City. The Voice took some of the more uniquely powered individuals and fed them to Parasite."

"And, as such, he's evolving," said Doctor Moon, stepping away from the station he'd been lounging at previously. "We've all been going over the security footage from the Hub site to get a feel for what Despero was up to there and I came across this."

Malthus rolled his eyes and typed something into a console. Within seconds, a holographic projection shimmered up in the middle of the group and all the mad scientists and geniuses turned their attention to it.

<...Do not worry, Tommy. I have the answers to all your problems. The salve for all your pain.>

The speaker was Despero in his other guise, that of the all-knowing Voice, but Catman didn't recognise the boy he was addressing. He was thin and malnourished but with a spark in his eye that suggested to Blake that he wanted to live. Parasite sat opposite the boy, and even though you couldn't see his features, something about his posture told Blake that he was hungry for this morsel.

"Who is that?" Catman asked quietly.

"Tommy Lister," replied Doctor Moon, "I was the one who did his physical, the one who fully detailed the extent of his powers... in some way, I'm to blame for his fate." Moon didn't seem at all fazed by his part in it. "He had a talent for power-absorption. His brother, Daniel, was a meta too. Thomas accidentally stole his abilities away and left him a husk. He was arrested. Tried. Found guilty of murder. Thrown into prison and called a monster."

"Power-absorption? So the same power-set as Parasite?"

"With a difference," added Immortus, "he could keep what he stole."

"What?" Tommy spoke now, breathlessly. He was nervous, and rightly so, thought Blake. Parasite kept shifting in his seat, moving his hands tightly over the arms of the chair, holding himself back from doing something sudden and horrific.

<I can reunite you with your brother.>

"What do you mean--?" Blake watched as Tommy looked over to the Parasite, who had now climbed out of his chair, and had begun stalking toward him. "No!" Tommy threw his arm up and encased Rudy in ice, freezing the villain in his tracks. "You can't--!"

"He doesn't stand a chance," whispered Blake. "It's the Parasite. He's the only one we're all pants wetting scared of, everyone knows that. He worms his way into your life, it's why The Voice used him like he did. And now, if he's being fed, being poked and prodded into a certain direction..."

"I have my theories," said Malthus. "Keep watching."

Parasite was behind Tommy now. The boy didn't even know it until the monster spoke. "I ate an illusion caster before I got here, kid." The boy spun around and Parasite grabbed him by the face, began to feed. "I ate too fast. Was greedy. Didn't save any morsels for later." Blake watched, bile rising in his throat, as Rudy Jones reeled back, feasting, lapping up the power of Tommy Lister. "You froze a figment, kid, and now I got your power. Yours and mine, together, wonder what'll happen?"

"Watch his hands," said Malthus, using a laser-pointer to direct Immortus and Blake's gaze. Parasite's arms were bubbling with excess energy, skin cells bursting and hardening. "That's never happened before, not that I've seen."

<An experiment. Becoming more. Good luck, Rudy.>

The Parasite's body began to pop and boil, flesh running down his body. Tommy was past screaming but, every now and then, choked-- until he was a desiccated husk and the Parasite was twitching on the floor. His flesh ran together in a pool and moved over his body once more... covering him in a grayish shell that hardened around him. He was silent then... sleeping... growing... and then the lights went out, leaving the room in darkness.

"What did he do?" whispered Catman.

"He increased The Parasite's power set exponentially. If Lister could hold onto powers and Parasite stole that ability, theoretically, couldn't Jones now do the same?" Malthus fast-forwarded the footage. He switched the video display to night-vision and Catman and General Immortus watched as the cocoon that Parasite had formed over himself shifted and split. After days, a raggedy hand burst through the thin membrane and out clambered... Rudy Jones. Whole. Human. "His body reset. I think that is the appropriate theory to have here. The Parasite had his powers and his body."

"Do we know what happened next?" asked Catman.

"No," Parasite hurried out of the room and the security camera ran for a few more seconds before it shorted out. "This was the day of The Guardian's incursion. The self-destruct activated and that was that. He escaped in the aftermath and his only sightings since then have been... an attack on Metamorpho in New York and the attack in Alcatraz. He's hoarding powers to suit himself..."



The Flesh-Monger fantasized about Catman. His bulging muscles, the way he looked at her when he stabbed her in the palm... she writhed on her bed, her fingers drifting down her chest, down her front, and lower, when--

"You're new, aren't you?"

She span around, gun in hand, aiming at where the voice had come from. A well-dressed and handsome man, his hair slicked back against his scalp, was smoking a cigarette inside her room, his black eyes staring at where she had been lying.

"Don't stop on my account, you looked like you were going to have some fun."

BOOM!

The large revolver had a kick that sent shockwaves rocketing down the Flesh-Monger's shoulder. She blinked once through the gun smoke and saw that the intruder had a massive hole blown through his chest, blood smattering the shattered door behind him. He turned slowly to look at the damaged woodwork, then at the hole in his chest. He smiled and threads of purple matter shot into the center of the gaping wound, connected up, and knitted the hole back together. "Who are you, tall, dark and impervious?"

"They call me the Parasite," he said as he approached her bed, "and I've heard things about you, Ms. Flesh-Monger. Can I call you 'Flesh'?"

"You can call me mistress," she said quickly. The revolver in her hand was shaking now-- she was nervous, terrified. This was the woman who had sealed Roman Sionis' face in his own skin. Killed countless. Faced down Catman and his mooks... and this was the man that had her quivering. "What do you want, Parasite?"

"I've been changing myself a bit," he said as he lay next to her on the bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow, "improving myself."

"Oh?" She didn't know what to do. Move? He'd catch her. She felt it in her skin.

"Yes. I met Metamorpho. Do you know who he is? The Element Man. I stole a little bit of his power. And then Mindeater too! I can hear your thoughts," he whispered, leaning in close, "and I would catch you. Catch you quick." He pulled back and stared at the ceiling. "My current situation, you know what it's done to me..?" He lifted his head and opened his palm up in front of The Flesh-Monger's face. Blue fire popped up in a sphere above his skin. "...I'm all powerful. I can make anything with my body, including new flesh. So you blowing me up with that punchy little gun of yours? A wasted effort."

She pushed the muzzle against his forehead. "What if I shoot you from this range?"

"Whose to say I have a brain anymore? You saw my insides didn't you? You saw that I'm all solid in there. Sure, I can shift my bits and my pieces, but--" He grabbed her wrist and twisted, the gun dropping out of her hand. "--I don't have anything inside me anymore. And I need to fill myself up." Purple veins began to pulsate in The Flesh-Monger's wrist. She cringed as she felt her body cry out, something terribly wrong with his touch. "You resign yourself to just flesh. But I can think of things on a grander scale. With the powers I stole from a poor little psychic, I can access the red doors in your mind that control your abilities. I can see that it's not just skin or muscle, but bone and all other kinds of tissue. I want that power," he hissed. "I want... enough." She cried out as her body began to reject her powers, as her smooth skin turned to brittle and her hair bleached white. Her bones creaked and her heart began to race-- she was having a heart attack! "But not too much." He released her and her body instinctively reverted back to its young form. He stood and rearranged his tie. "Think about this when you seal up someone's mouth for being insolent, madam. Think about how you could... reduce their heart to nothing but mush."

His body shifted, flickered, and he vanished, seeping into the walls.

The Flesh-Monger looked at her wrist, at the handprint burned into her skin, and fell back onto her bed, gasping to breathe. She would fix that later. But first, she looked at the small communication device that the Society had forwarded to her and the other gang-bosses after their meeting a few days back. She groped for it and activated the beacon.

"I need... I need... to talk... to Catman..."



"...Imagine," said Niles Caulder, "that your body is made of malleable protoplasm that conducts unique--and foreign-- bio-electrical charges into your cells. Your DNA code would never the same from one day to the next-- this is what happens in the case of Rudy Jones. He constantly breaks down what he was before and rebuilds. It's why, previously, he was a mess of purple flesh and broken down tissue-- he could never heal. Taking Thomas Lister's powers into himself, he's adapted his physiology. He can keep what he took before. We assume, perhaps, he stole the powers of some unknown metahuman shapeshifter-- was there was a body in the wreckage of the Hub site?"

The Question nodded. Behind him stood the Justice League as well as others with super-scientific minds who had insight into this case. Professor Emil Hamilton had prepped them on The Parasite's abilities and they were reviewing information that Checkmate had uncovered in the wreckage of the Society's Hub City base.

"We know that The Parasite kept metahuman snacks to constantly feed his powers. He couldn't hold onto the gifts before, but now he can. Thanks to the Lister boy. He took Rex Mason's abilities so he could infiltrate Alcatraz and he took Mindeater's abilities to lock his mind away, but what if--" The Chief trailed off and he scratched his beard. "What if he's molding his brain into something much more dangerous than before? His body was the thing that absorbed powers and he's been known to keep trace identities along with powers, but what if he can hold entire personalities in his mind now that he can hold whole power-sets? With enough exposure to metahumans-- and it appears he needs skin-to-skin contact to fully absorb-- he could become a dynamo of metahuman ability. Virtually unstoppable."

"That narrows down the choices of who I would send in against him," said Batman, turning to Wonder Woman. "I wouldn't want to risk exposure of our most powerful members to Parasite. If one of us trips, falters, he could seize their abilities."

"We need a different strategy," said Wonder Woman. "Brute strength won't work this time around."

Superman bristled at this. "I've faced him before and I can face him again."

"Superman," said Batman slowly, "I've read DEO reports of your tangles with Parasite. You've had all your powers drained away, your solar charge included. We can't throw him into the Kansas power grid this time."

"I don't think he wants the League," said The Question, interrupting the tense conversation between the world's finest, "I think he wants the President, people. The President or God. I have this... hunch. A feeling in my belly that I can't shift. If I was going to take over the country, and I had his skill-set? I know what powers I'd want. I know how I'd make myself feel untouchable... and yeah, if he stole President Stuart's life? We couldn't touch him if that comes to pass."

"His DNA would remain the same though," said The Atom, "we'd be able to discover if the President wasn't who he said he was. The President is the President. The Parasite is a mess of broken down DNA strands. We'd know."

"But what if he discovers how to control his DNA breakdown? He could hide his true identity," said The Question. "He could be anyone. And we wouldn't be able to prove it. God or the President, Palmer-- who has Parasite got more chance of becoming?"

Superman put up his hands and gained everyone's attention. "We need to talk to the President. Right. Now."



"Catman! Catman!" Blake turned at his cape-name and saw Signalman run toward him holding a communication device. "Just got word from Flesh-Monger, the Gotham boss? She had something she needed to tell you!" Signalman looked at General Immortus and all the other mad scientists assembled. "It's about Parasite, sir. I thought you'd want to know."

"Speak of the devil," murmured Catman. "What's the word, Sigs?"

Signalman nodded. "He attacked her, held her tight and stole a portion of her powers. She wants protection."

General Immortus nodded. "...Your recommendation on protection detail, Thomas?"

"Send Braun and Disaster," said Catman. "They can handle next to anything. I want to track down Parasite. I want to end this."

"I'm glad you've said so," said Malthus, "because that's what you're going to do."

"What?"

Immortus nodded. "The President of the United States is going to be at a nighttime ceremony in Washington. Parasite is able to cross the nation in a matter of hours thanks to the abilities he's stolen from Metamorpho. He can ride the winds, as it were, and that's if he hasn't found a teleporter to drain dry."

"Damn," whispered Catman. "And you want me to put him down."

"Yes, Thomas. Here's the rub-- we want you to protect President Stuart. We also know that the Justice League will be present. This is going to be rough on you, we can all but assume."

"And my team?"

"I want to keep it clean of metahumans," said Immortus. "Toyman will be your second and we're introducing Schreck to your team. He's a vampire."

"I'm sorry, a what?" said Catman.

"A vampire. We don't think Parasite's abilities will work on dead flesh and, if they do," Malthus shrugged, "you're going to kill him anyway. Schreck's an asset. His innate abilities will be a boon, don't you worry."

Catman arched an eyebrow. "Security is going to be top notch," he started, "I'm not getting in there with my costume on and my knives on my belt."

"That's where I come in," said a diminutive figure that floated toward the group. He was flying thanks to a jet-pack strapped to his back and his oversized goggles made him appear to have large bug-eyes. It was a disconcerting image to say the least. "I'm Gizmo, Catman."

"I've heard," said Catman.

"And today, I'm going to be your Q," he giggled, his voice a bit higher than what was perceived as normal. "Weapons man, equipment bastard, you know the drill?"

"From the movies, sure," nodded Blake. "Equip me up."

Gizmo motioned for the group to follow him to where he'd been working and pointed to several discs that throbbed red. "Toyman's internal holographic projector can make it appear that he's human on the inside. That's fine, fine," said Gizmo, "and, because Checkmate are sure to be on the scene as well, we can't simply give you ceramic blades."

"Obviously," said Catman.

"But we can give you these--" Gizmo picked up one of the discs. "Hard-light projection discs. Your entire suit will be laced with circuits that will act as body armor without it actually being armor. It might actually be more effective than what you had before, hehe, but these discs? One prod, one poke--" Gizmo touched the disc and it fluctuated for a moment before a blade began to form around it, the button on the hilt where Blake's thumb would be. "Now you see them, now you don't!" He pressed the button again and they vanished into nothingness. "They're made of light, harnessed in a low-level containment field."

"Nice," said Catman. "So tonight is the anniversary of surviving the Apokolips war. Huh. And you want me and mine to protect the President from Parasite. Just so I'm sure of what's going on."

"Yes," said Immortus, "don't misunderstand our intention, Thomas-- Parasite is insane. And, if he were to ascend to a position of power, it would result in nothing good for us. Better the good ol' boy that Jeb Stuart is, yes?"

"Sure thing. Where can I find my new threads?" asked Catman.

"They're in your apartment," said Gizmo. "I'm sure you'll love them!"

"Sigs?" said Catman, looking over to Signalman who was still lurking in the lab, "get Shreck and Toyman to meet me on the roof in a hour. Have Warp be there too."

"Will do," said Signalman, vanishing from sight within seconds.

Catman stalked off toward his apartment, resting just outside Peña Duro itself. His clothes were hung up in his lounge and they were damned fine. Black tux, everything where it should be. The discs were attached to his belt where his blades would be-- handy. He showered quickly, dried himself off, and sat naked on his bed for a while, contemplating the night. He'd been in worse spots, right? This was going to be one hell of a night. Washington would be under heavy security. Checkmate everywhere. Cops. Feds. The Justice League would be there too, aaand... Parasite. Lurking somewhere in the crowds.

"Gonna' be a fun night."



"I'm not going to cancel the event because of a threat on my life, Superman," said President Stuart strictly. "I'll have none of it. This... Parasite... he's never been a threat before-- and I understand that he's amped himself up a bit-- but, if Checkmate and the League can't stop him, then I don't see the point of either of those organizations existing."

Wonder Woman and Superman looked at the White King, Steve Trevor, who shrugged. "We'll be present throughout the proceedings," said the government agent. "But I do agree that a certain amount of rethinking should be applied. Let's change the venue. Make it a much more controlled environment."

"I agree with the White King," said Wonder Woman, "the less exposed you are, the better. But, if you're to place yourself in harm's way, then the chance of you being attacked by Parasite is much higher. Constitution Gardens leaves you exposed and open to attack."

"Your Highness, I appreciate your honesty and I understand completely..." Stuart latticed his fingers and leaned forward. "We'll change the venue. But the public needs to know we're not afraid... hmm."

"If I might be so bold?" Steve Trevor said slowly. "I have a man that may be able to help us with this current predicament. You need to be seen but you need to be protected. Do you know who Hugh Hazard Jr. is?"

"No, but you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?" said Stuart, a smile forming on his lips.



"Smells like it's going to be a lovely night," said Toyman quietly. Schreck was wearing a modified version of the armor that the Teen Titan Dagon wore in the daytime. It had been easy enough for Kilg%re to infiltrate the Titans Tower mainframes to access the specs, as easy as it had also been for him to enter the White House computers and insert false information about the three villains into their databases.

"You don't have a sense of smell," said Schreck. "I do. And I smell the teeming masses. And I smell this place. Hrrh. I hate this place. So close, yet so far."

"I have high-tech sensors that act as an olfactory sense, actually. You're no fun."

"Don't pick at each other," said Catman, as he walked toward them. Toyman had activated his holographic generator and appeared to be a slender, dignified member of the bourgeois, while Shreck, beneath his armor, was also in a tuxedo, though not as elegant a one as Thomas Blake had. "We're members of the press-packet that'll be around the President at all times. Kilg%re has inserted our credentials into the White House computers. Funny thing is... he also discovered a change of plan for the President's address tonight. It's going to be fun guys. Seat of our pants kind of stuff."

"As long as we have an out," said Schreck. "I don't want to be trapped in there. We need an escape route or there's no point."

Catman laughed out loud. "You really think I'll enter any plan without an out, Schreck? You've got a lot to learn on my team."

Warp grinned as he shimmered into sight. "Oh, mon ami, when I am 'ere for you, there is always a way out, tu comprehend?"

"Good to have you at our backs, Warp," said Catman, putting out his hand for the teleporter to take.

"The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur Blake. I get paid by the teleport, after all," replied the Frenchman with a wink.

"Then to Washington we go. You know the new location?" asked Catman.

Warp nodded and put out his hand. "Indeed I do, my friend. Allons-y!"