Issue 15: "New Blood, Part Two"

There is an evil tendency underlying all our technology - the tendency to do what is reasonable even when it isn't any good.
--Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance


Humanity is acquiring all the right technology for all the wrong reasons. --R. Buckminster Fuller (1895 - 1983)

As they boarded the jet, June Moone kept her head down.

She hadn't told Mitch what was troubling her; what Enchantress had said and done. She had just asked him to hold her, which he had done, puzzled but concerned.

Why hadn't she told him? She wasn't sure. He couldn't help, really. He was wary of Enchantress, and rightfully so; but what could he say? 'Don't use the power she gave you'? She had figured that much out for herself already.
All she had to do was not use the power she didn't want, for a month. Then it would be gone.

Easy enough, right?

The Enchantress was conspicuously silent in her mind. As though she were waiting for something.

"The new kid is feisty, but I think she'll work out," Vixen said to Manhunter.

He shrugged. "For as long as she lasts, however long that is. Personally, I miss Firehawk. We need her now more than ever, especially with Killer Frost here again."

"The whole thing with the Justice League left a sour taste in her mouth," Vixen said. "And she was hardly the only one."

Manhunter nodded, but his eyes were distant. "I just wonder what we'll do now."

"The best we can, lover," Vixen said, putting her hand on his. "The best we can."

Deep braying alarms roared through the base.

"They found us already?!?" Wilkerson yelped.

Malthus scowled. "They must have followed the robots. I take it the subject is not yet ready."

"You know it isn't! It would take days just to get the most basic programming in! All I've managed to do is make it understand that it shouldn't kill us!"

"Can you command it not to harm the robots, either?"

"I would need time for that!"

"Then I must buy you that time. Let's see who we're dealing with, first, shall we?"

At first they saw nothing; the surface security cameras had been taken out by whatever force had destroyed the entranceway. But there were further security cameras down the long access hallway to the surface, and one by one they kicked in.

They saw Catman step in, nod to himself, and then stick his head back out to talk to his fellows. Malthus narrowed his eyes in suspicion; a suspicion that turned to certainty when Catman was joined by Vixen and Manhunter Mark Shaw.

"The Suicide Squad," Malthus commented dryly. "How nice to see them again."

"Your robots--" Wilkerson began.

"Yes, I know. I will try to buy you the time you need. Let me see....four squads....no, five." Malthus tapped at his remote controls, in some ways like a computer and in some ways not. There was no screen; just a series of colored buttons and a small digital readout. To Malthus, his robot soldiers were almost an extension of his own being. He was their Mastermind; they were his servants.

Sending five squads left three here with him, Wilkerson, and their test subject. He nodded thoughtfully to himself.

"But," he said aloud, "The Squad is quite capable of defeating them before you have readied our subject....unless we give my robots an additional advantage."

"Which is?"

"My robots do not need to see."

Malthus moved from his remote controls long enough to turn all the lights in the base—except those of the room they were in—out.

He turned his mouth to tell Wilkerson to get back to his mental conditioning of their subject, but saw that he had already returned to his work. Malthus nodded in satisfaction; they made a good team.

He just hoped it was good enough, and in this particular case, quick enough.

The future of the world, he believed, depended on them.

Fighting in the dark.

The robots Malthus had constructed had titanium claws, two different kinds of energy weapons (laser beams and electric arcs). Theirs had both infrared and ultraviolet scanners, enabling them to see in almost any wavelength.

Malthus had come up with the basic prototype eight years ago, and been improving on it since. Once they had secured their new base, it had been easy to set up a manufacturing line. And with the chaos of the Starro invasion, everyone's attention had been diverted until he had plenty of troops to go around.

Catman found himself at a disadvantage; his blades simply didn't do enough damage to the body structure of the fearsome killing machines. He could duel them, yes; but his blades did precious little damage to them unless he hid a hydraulic pump or a sensor. And they could most assuredly rip him apart.

So he settled for dueling one or two at a time, dodging and weaving, his blades clashing against their claws, parrying, over and over again. Reducing the number of enemies the others had to fight. Buying them time to win the battle.

Was this what it was like for heroes, working at a team to protect your buddies? He wondered distantly.

He didn't wonder about it long. Up, up, over, down, block, parry, slash.

Terra found the situation against her powers. She could bring in rocks from the outside, yes, but aiming them correctly was a fool’s game in the dark. She could, of course, just hit everything including her teammates. But that wouldn't help her pardon prospects any.

So she did the best thing she could; she kept a series of rocks floating around her as a shield against robot strikes, and threw the occasional one at a robot who got close to her, smashing them back.

Killer Frost skipped daintily down the corridor, humming to herself, dancing between robots, reaching out and touching them, freezing them solid. As they were not living beings, she could not draw heat from them, but their metal framework frozen over with so much less effort.

Her gleeful musings were interrupted when a robot slashed her shoulder. Turning, her eyes were even more furious than Terra's had been earlier. She gripped the robot with both hand s and froze it so cold it shattered into fragments.

Resurrection Man had, since his last death, gained powers not unlike those of Captain Atom, though not nearly so powerful, and he could not fly. That being so, he was able to blast the robots relatively easily, though his powers weren't as effective against them as they were against living beings.

He did his best to keep himself between the enemy and Enchantress. Not that he had much regard for the witch; but June was trapped somewhere inside the sorceress, and he would not lose her.

Enchantress, for her part, delighted herself in turning robots into frogs, or causing them to turn to rust prematurely. She, too, wished for living opponents; she had a mind to charm one or two and turn them to their side. Robot programming was not nearly so flexible in that regard.

Vixen used her totem to call upon the power of a rhino and simply bulled her way through the robots in front of her. She switched to elephant and wreaked some more havoc, then giant ape and threw a few of them into their fellows.

To a degree, Manhunter found himself in the same boat as Catman; but his power staff, at least, could do some damage to the enemy. It pained him to hang back and occasionally blast while Vixen did most of the work; but he knew she could take care of herself.

Electrocutioner was having a ball. He was in his element. His electric powers were perfectly suited to frying the robots circuitry and positronic brains. This problem was not letting them get close to him. He had no special protection against their claws.

So they started shooting at him instead. He ducked laser blasts and countered their electricity blasts with his own.

The brunt of the enemy force was, of course, handled by Knockout. They were almost unable to hurt her, with her nigh-invulnerability. Merely annoy her. With her physical strength she ripped robots apart, or occasionally threw them into her fellows. She nodded with respect at Vixen's own attacks; clearly she was reappraising her abilities as a team member.

Malthus and Wilkerson knew they were there, of course. And if they hadn't, Knockout's fist smashing through the emergency lockdown doors would have been a clue.

"Unleash the subject!" Malthus shouted. "We've run out of time!"

"I'm not even half finished yet," Wilkerson shouted back.

"Release it now, or we're finished for good!"

As Malthus commanded his remaining robots to attack, Wilkerson frantically pulled back the bars and undid the locks.

As Knockout came smashing through the doorway, Vixen right behind her, the 'test subject' was unleashed from its containment cage and came flying out to meet them.

Flying out on metal wings. Green armor, brass-colored wings, a long handled-axe in its hand, red goggled eyes.

Knockout recognized it. How could she not? It was part of the past that would always haunt her; part of the bitter legacy of Apocalypse she always knew she would have to face, as she had reflected before this mission began.

It was a Parademon.