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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:00:00 GMT -5
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:00:29 GMT -5
Titans: The Resistance [/b] Issue #7 “Scarlet and Silver”: Part 1 Written by: Jay McIntyre Cover by: Brian Hodges Edited by: Brian Burchette[/center]
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:01:30 GMT -5
Avarice, envy, pride, Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all On Fire. Dante Alighieri (1265 - 1321), The Divine Comedy
There are as many kinds of republics as there are graduations between the despotism whence they came and the anarchy whither they lead.
Ambrose Bierce (1842 - 1914), The Devil's Dictionary
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:02:07 GMT -5
Robin's "training month" was over.
With the actions of their strike against Markovia finished, at least for now, the Titans had quietly scattered; Green Lantern to report to his mentor, Supergirl to study Earth and it's people, Ravager to prowl the seas. Each had been given a special radio frequency by which they could contact Robin or each other. They would come together again to plot their next move; it was only a matter of time.
Only Terra had remained. She had lived quietly on the outskirts of Philadelphia as Robin performed acts of crime fighting in and around the city. Much to Robin's surprise, she had not used her powers at all; she had gotten a job and performed well enough to sustain herself. He didn't ask for the details. He had already noted her ability to speak English with only the faintest trace of accent; that was, after all, part of her imperial education. She had been meant to rule half the world and try to take over what remained; she knew many things that even his training under Batman had left out, at least on the academic side. How any of that enabled her to hold a mundane job and not reveal the truth about herself, he didn't know. He knew it was an unremarkable data entry position at a mail order catalogue company; he had not looked into it further.
She had been meant to rule half the world and try to take over what remained. His mind kept coming back to that fact. She had been the heir apparent; the next Empress. And she had given it all up for.....idealism. It made him admire her more than he could say; it also utterly defied comprehension. He knew she was sincere; he just didn't understand why.
He didn't know why she was hanging around. He had feelings for her, certainly; and he knew those feelings were quietly returned. But neither spoke of the matter. Her aristocratic upbringing, and his quiet but intense one under Batman, had made them both slow and cautious. They had seen each other twice, quietly, in costume. Robin was not yet ready to take his mask off in front of her, any more than he would any of the other Titans. When he asked, she said she never used her powers during that time because it was a relief not to have to use them.
Also, Robin was hoping she would slip away, so he would not have to do what he felt was his duty. But she waited patiently at her job and in her cover identity, presumably for him to call the team back together. Which was certainly his plan; but there was a major stumbling block to be dealt with first.
One rather large logistical nightmare of a stumbling block.
He had not contacted his mentors during the month, as ordered. And he was sure Bruce and Dick had heard about what happened. He hoped they were pleased. But he was also sure they had no idea that it had all been made possible by a Markovian turncoat of the first order.
Certainly Robin dared not tell them that he was falling in love with her.
But when he had told her he was returning to Gotham she had volunteered to go with him, and she used her powers to fly them along on a chunk of rock.
Closer and closer they drew to those gothic spires. Yet still she did not set them down or ask any questions. His unease grew.
Finally, they approached the city limits, and he could bear it no more. "Set us down."
"Certainly." she did so without question, behind a large tree near a major highway. It was the dead of night; dawn was still several hours away. The road was mostly quiet; only the occasional car passed by. They were undetected.
"Terra....you've come this far with me. I'm glad you did, yet I wish you hadn't." He shifted on his feet and looked down. "I shouldn't even be telling you this, but I do trust you. So it hurts my heart that I--"
"Shh." She put a finger to his lips. "I think I know what you must do now." She looked at him with sad eyes. "Just do it. I have expected such for some time."
He stared at her. "How....?"
Terra looked at him with a bleak, hopeless expression. "You have told me enough of your training to know what your Batman must think of me. What he will have to ask, and know. There is only one way for him to find out; one way for me to ever earn his trust." She hung her head. "If that is even possible. From what you tell me he probably would not execute me; yet it is entirely possible that I will spend the rest of my life in some prison of his devising. A risk I will have to take. Do what you must."
Robin was stunned; there was a long pause. "I'm sorry," he finally said, and pulled a capsule from his belt and snapped it open under her nose.
Terra's eyes rolled up in her head, and she slumped unconscious into his arms.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:02:43 GMT -5
Someone was watching.
As Robin carried Terra into the city, a scarlet cloaked figure sat on a rooftop and watched him through binoculars.
"My, my, my, what is this?" Anarky mused. "The prodigal returns, with a heroine in his arms. Yet he does not look happy with his conquest. He looks conflicted...sad? One of his team mates, perhaps? Injured or exhausted?"
Anarky watched a little longer. Then he swung down and followed. Robin was undoubtedly returning to the secret base of Batman. Anarky was a shrewd detective himself, and had made several guesses as to whom that worthy might be; yet it would be nice to have confirmation. He did not wish to expose Batman, not while there were much more powerful tyrants like the Markovians in the world. But having the true identity of Batman in his back pocket, so to speak, would enable him to be safe against Batman ending his own career as a true freedom fighter—something a fascist like Batman himself never could be—to a premature end.
Anarky had quietly gone about his business during the month; a sort of training mission of his own. He had quietly attacked criminals and petty tyrants here and there, trying to maintain a low profile and not draw the attention of Batman. His electrified cattle prod and smoke bombs had been very effective. He was already good, and he believed he was getting better; but he was not ready to even evade pursuit by the Dark Knight. Yet.
But in truth it was mostly Robin that Anarky was interested in. Much as he disliked Batman's little lackey, it was nevertheless true that it was the Brat Wonder's team of "heroes" that had struck the first real blow against the Markovian Empire. He saw something of himself in the Batman's apprentice. He knew that he must follow Robin until he met his allies again, and then see what use they could be as a true weapon of freedom.
The times, as the saying went, were changing.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:03:38 GMT -5
Ravager paced the deck of her flagship.
They had done some very successful hunting around Markovian-occupied China, and war-torn Japan, which was still fighting the invaders. But now they had crossed the Pacific, and were nearing Central America, and the passage to the Atlantic through Panama's canal.
"You are determined to continue helping them," said Wintergreen. "Why?"
"Couple reasons," she said. "First, the opportunity to hit Markovia is always helpful. Second, imagine if they win; Imagine the wild open chaos of shipping no longer under Markovian rule."
"And Robin has nothing to do with it," Wintergreen commented drily.
Ravager laughed, then shook her head. "Maybe at first he mighta. But given the time he's spent with Terra since? Any chance I had is gone. Think he was a little spooked of me, anyway."
"I can't help think that you must have an additional motivation," Wintergreen said.
She looked at him for a moment, a twinkle in her eye. "Okay, yeah. When I was with them....I had the opportunity to really have fun."
"Fun," Wintergreen repeated dryly.
"Yeah, fun!"
Wintergreen sighed, shook his head, and retreated below decks.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:04:12 GMT -5
Dick was already in the Batcave when Tim arrived, Tara still unconscious in his arms. Dick had the Batman suit on, minus the cape and cowl. Bruce was gliding down the stairs in his power chair, having been signaled when Robin used the secret entrance in Finger Park (the fact that it was a rock might have amused Tara had she been awake; certainly Anarky found it equal parts interesting and frustrating, as he couldn't follow).
Dick's mouth fell open. "Holy...."
Bruce stopped his chair so abruptly he almost fell out of it. After a long pause, he said, "While I admire your ability to capture a Markovian Royal, when she wakes up she'll simply bring the cave down on us."
Dick looked at Bruce. "Bring the cave down? A geomorph?"
"Read the files, Dick. That's the Crown Princess herself."
Dick went pale. "Princess Tara?!? Dear God, Tim, they'll invade us for this!"
"Please, both of you, let me report," Tim pleaded. "I promise she won't bring the roof down. When I've finished, I shall leave it to you whether I need to be cast out for what I've done."
Bruce and Dick looked at each other, then back at Tim. "All right," Bruce allowed. "I must admit, I am curious as to how you orchestrated that strike into the heart of Markovia and then managed to kidnap the Crown Princess." His somewhat amused tone seemed to indicate the idea of firing Tim hadn't even occurred to him, after such a coup.
"She found me, actually," Tim began. "Without her the strike on Markovia would not have even been possible....."
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:04:47 GMT -5
"....and she let me knock her out and bring her here," Tim finally finished almost two hours later. He was hoarse from talking so much. "She knew you would want to interrogate her. I checked her for bugs."
There was a long pause.
"The cave scanners would have picked any up," Bruce finally said.
"Do you believe her?" Dick asked.
Bruce looked at him. "You're Batman now, Dick. What do you think?"
"I doubt the motivations she told him are true...but she certainly is sincere in her attacks against her family."
Bruce nodded. "I wouldn't put it past the Markov Royals to attempt such duplicity; but I doubt they would sacrifice so many of their own troops in the attempt."
"Mother would," Tara said sleepily. "If she thought it would work. But she prefers direct military confrontation. Subtlety is not her strong point. Of course, I realize I'm hurting my own cause by saying that, but I dare not tell you anything other than the truth."
All three of them stared at her.
Very slowly she sat up and put her hands up. "I surrender," she said simply.
"You already did, according to Robin," Dick noted with some humor.
"You've seen us without masks," Bruce said. He was a little tense, but not overly hostile or paranoid. His eyes were bright, boring into Tara's.
She stared back calmly, warily. "I don't know your names. Robin never took his mask off in front of me, either."
Bruce nodded. "We're going to dose you with sodium pentothal."
"Of course," she nodded. "Truth drug, simplest way."
"I should've thought of that before now," Tim groused.
"You had more immediate priorities," Dick said, pulling a syringe from his utility belt. "And for the record? I already believe her."
"Let's find out," Bruce grunted.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:05:30 GMT -5
Twenty five miles outside of Brescia, Italy.
The shockwaves of the defeat of the Markovian Home Guard had been felt in this conquered nation. The existing troops had clamped down ever harder, doubling and trebling their patrols. Two Rocket Men were on the production lines back in Markovia to be sent there. But their construction would take time.
In the meantime, conscription rates had been doubled. Oppression was at its highest rate since the Markovians first ground their iron boot heel into the country. The Cosa Nostra, the secret criminal societies of Sicily, had spread throughout the country and formed their own guerilla force.
Italy was important to Markovia in a number of ways. Perhaps most importantly as a resource of raw materials and metals. Markovians had re opened old mines in the northern part of the country, and made new ones, discovering veins of ore that the locals had never found.
Here, just outside of Brescia, though, they had taken over an existing mine, of silver. It had once been owned by the Monetti family. Now, that formerly proud family, are reduced to slave labor in their own mines.
Toni Monetti lifted her hammer wearily, and let it fall with a clunk. The guards were watching, but she is too tired to care. So tired. So tired....
She was only sixteen. Her eyes are heavy; she is weary in every bone. Her back was bent and her eyes half-shut. There were muscles in her arms from the labor, but she was far too thin and drawn.
"Faster, girl," a guard snarls. She hears him and attempts to move faster, but she is so weary. And she is growing angry.
She knew that once, long ago, her family had owned these mines; that they had been a rich and prosperous family. Now they were slaves. Her grandparents died in these very mines years ago. Her mother's health was failing, her father old before his years. Even her little nephew, Luca, was already hammering away in these same mines.
She was tired and angrier by the second. A dangerous combination, as history had shown over and over.
So when the Markovian prodded her with his bayonet, almost drawing blood, she waited only long enough for him to withdraw the weapon. Then, with a surge of adrenaline, she turned and came to her feet with one fluid movement.
Her hammer connected with his jaw. There was a satisfying crack, and he went down.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:06:13 GMT -5
Darkness. The drug was coursing through her system. Her mind floated uncertainly through possibilities and dreams. It occurred to her, in a dreamy sort of way, which she must be blindfolded. She wondered why, when she had already seen their faces; then dreamily assumed it must be some sort of psychological thing. She didn't remember the blindfold being put on.
"State your full name." That was the older man. Bitter and cynical. She fancied she could still see his eyes, judging (though that was almost certainly the drugs). Pitiless.
"My name is Tara Illyichia Markov."
"Interesting that you don't consider yourself a Princess, still," the younger man's voice, Batman's voice, mused. "What exactly is the nature of the relationship between you and the Empire?"
"I have turned against the Empire because of its conduct."
"Why?" The older man asked.
"As the heir to the throne, I was required to study the Imperial History. But my curiosity led me to seek out histories other than the official ones. I found.....I found terrible things. I was very young," her voice became small. "And the atrocities.....please don't ask me to tell you the details."
"You found these texts in the Palace?" The older man again.
"Some of them, some I found with help from sympathetic servants. I was not the first dissident in our family's history."
"Yes, I know," the old man's voice is grim. "Some stories do leak out. Tell me, do you honestly believe you can take down the Empire?"
"Take them down? Not exactly....Beat them back and force them to relinquish their hold on some lands, certainly. Cease being a threat to the world. I can't hope for more than that."
"But if it became possible to shatter the crown and end Markovian dominion, would you?"
"Yes." Tara had no hesitation in her answer.
"Even if it meant killing your mother?"
"I was confronted with that choice...I could not commit the act myself, but I was willing to step aside and allow Ravager to perform the act."
Silence for a moment, then the younger man: "I've got a question.....what are your intentions towards Robin?"
Tara heard Robin gasp in surprise. She gave a sad smile to her unseen interrogators and said, "He is a capable field leader, which I suppose is down to your training. Personally, I find him charming.....but am certain that you would never permit any relationship between us."
There was a longer pause.
Then in a softer tone of voice, the young man said, "All right, we've had Robin's report. I want to hear your version, from the moment you decided to rebel..."
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:06:46 GMT -5
Anarky wearily paced, then finally decided to set up a motion sensor and go home. He wasn't that tired, but it wouldn't be too long before.....Lonnie's parents missed him.
It was a conscious effort to think of Anarky and Lonnie Machin as two separate people. In truth, Anarky thought Lonnie would soon have to "run away from home."
His parents were good people, but unobservant; and he had outmaneuvered them easily, thus far. But there was little more he could learn from the government-run schools (he sneered internally at the very idea), and soon he would have to commit himself to his life as an avenger of the people.
He would miss his parents, without a doubt. But they were not part of the life he must lead.
When Robin went to rejoin his little troupe again, as he surely would, then Anarky must follow.
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:07:25 GMT -5
Toni had known it would be disaster to strike back. She had simply been too tired, and angry, to care anymore.
They had bludgeoned her with their rifle-butts; they had kicked her. They stopped, and she wondered why.
Her eyes were closed, both from the pain and simple weariness. She wasn't sure she wanted to open them.
"Should we...." one of them began.
"A scrawny little thing like that? What for? Let's just kill her and be done with it."
"Kill her, yeah....but not here, not like this. Let's make an example of her."
"No, please my daughter--" her father began, and there was a clunk as a rifle butt struck him.
"That's her old man? Good. Bring him along. I wanna make him watch."
She opened her eyes but saw nothing but the blackness of the mine roof.
"Where are we gonna take em?"
The commanding officer's voice was equal parts grim and smug. "Let's make her be part of the fruit of their labors."
She felt them drag her out of the caves. The sky above was dark and stormy. It was not evening yet, but it would be soon.
Not that such was important to her, except that she thought it very likely that this would be the last night of her life.
Her father was awake again, pleading for her. The Markovians laughed at him.
She should have felt horrible or defeated or simply weary; ready to give up. But though she could no longer fight, her exhaustion was burned away and all she felt was anger. More and more powerful it grew inside her, like a furnace.
And then she understood where they were taking her, as the heat without matched the heat within.
They had taken her to the foundry itself.....and the molten silver. The fumes alone could kill a person, and somehow she didn't think they just wanted her to breathe it.
"Now," the commanding officer coughed and spluttered. "Force her daddy dearest to kneel and watch!"
"No!" Her father pleaded. "Please don't do it!"
They lifted her up, and now, at the last moment, she began to struggle and kick, as much as she could. But at least one leg was broken, not to mention several ribs.
Then at last she saw the molten silver they meant to cast her into, and let out a weak, coughing scream. One flailing hand struck home into something soft, and a Markovian soldier screamed in pain and stumbled back, making his comrades shift their balance as they almost dropped her.
"Oooh, how I wish we had time to make her suffer more for that!" The commanding officer snarled. "But we gotta get back to the mines in case somebody makes a break for it. What are you waiting for? Throw her in!"
"NOOOOOOOO!" her father pleaded.
She was flung at the vat of silver.....
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Post by starlord on Jul 17, 2007 18:08:07 GMT -5
To Be Continued!
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