Titans: The Resistance #33

Cover coming soon



“Scepticism is the beginning of Faith.” Oscar Wilde

“Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods” C.S. Lewis

-1-

They are moving.

From the Empress’s lips, frozen with hate, the command came.

They are moving.

Rocket men fly. Tanks rumble. Armored units follow. Soldiers march.

They are moving.

The Empire is no longer playing games with the Vatican.

They are moving.

Led by Geo-Force himself, stone-faced with despair.

They are moving.

This is war.

-2-

Anarky was itching to give more smug comments to the Pope, but Terra pushed him back, albeit gently, with one hand. He was so surprised, he didn’t even get angry.

“Let me be absolutely clear,” she said, “I am not doing this for you. I am not doing this for the Vatican. I am doing this for the followers you claim to shepherd, both here and elsewhere. The Catholic Church lost its way long before the Empire’s rise, and that is the reason why the Royal Family favored the Eastern Orthodox before....” here she faltered, “before our own fall.” She firmed up again. “Do you understand?”

“I could debate theology with you,” the Pope sighed, “but yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

“You were right,” Ravager said to Supergirl. “It is personal for her. And myself, I’m glad to see it. After all those long weeks wandering through Europe, I’m finally glad I came.”

“Why?” Supergirl raised a brow.

“Because it seems that Terra can do what’s necessary, if properly motivated.”

Supergirl might have asked her about her definition of ‘necessary,’ but now was not the time. For the moment, she simply nodded and filed it away as an interesting emotional datum.

-3-

It didn’t take long for the Vatican, and thus the Titans, to find out that the Empire was coming. Even if they hadn’t been warned by a Church official (who had in turn been warned by another Justice Society operative), Green Lantern’s ring and Supergirl’s senses would have detected the threat long before it arrived. But every second was precious.

Terra did not yet know she would be facing her brother in battle.

Cardinal Tosca had not, as yet, had any words with Pope Eugene about the matter. He had thought about acting against the Pope directly, or through intermediaries, but ultimately had decided against it. Let the Markovians kill him. These fool costumed mercenaries whose services he had somehow bought though....that was another matter. Three of them at least were mere flesh and blood; the garishly-clad pirate, the caped vigilante, and the foreboding figure in red who, were it not for his foolishness, would have made a fine Inquisitor. But they had made their choices; they must die.

Perhaps he would even be fortunate enough to kill one of them himself. Nor would he consider this any kind of murder or injustice, but instead very much the right thing to do. It was a Crusade, after all. A Crusade like any other.

-4-

Geo-Force’s face was lined and pale as he led the strike force forth, bouncing on jets of lava of his own creation.

Originally the generals were supposed to lead this strike force. But the Empress, sitting on her throne with her eyes full of hate, had told him to lead it himself. Despite the fact that he was now Crown Prince. Despite the fact that if he fell in battle, a new noble house would have to take the throne.

And he knew why. Oh yes, he knew why.

The Empress was through playing games. She was no longer interested in handing over the matter to flunkies and functionaries.

She wanted Terra to die.

Once and for all.

Escape, sister, Prince Brion prayed in his mind. Flee. Be long gone by the time I get there. I am not sure I can kill you, and I am not sure if I will survive if I return to the Empress without doing so.

Brion himself had never wanted to be the heir. As the second born, he had been trained in bureaucracy and scholarship. A Royal bean counter, that was the intended fate of the second child. But then Tara had fled..... He sighed.

While not as idealistic as his sister, neither was he as ruthless as his mother. He was a man who did his duty; not one who made decisions. Such had been his life, and now he was forced into a position--military as well as political--he did not feel suited for.

He did not speak of this to any, of course. He always kept his own counsel whenever possible.

And then there were all the details that mother had shown him about their impending space program. And how she had acquired that knowledge.

And who she had acquired it from.

He shook himself.

“My prince?” asked General Petrovitch.

“Nothing. Let us move on.”

They would reach the Italian peninsula soon enough.

-5-

The Titans were arrayed around the northern perimeter of Vatican City in anticipation of the Markovians’ arrival.

Anarky had been in something of a quandary about this, and he had spoken to no one of it, not even Rose. Keeping his mouth shut was quite an achievement at any time, especially now. He was not at all sure that the Vatican did not deserve to be sacked and burned. Only the fact that the Empire was the offending party (and would prop up a new Pope more to their liking) silenced his objections before he could make them.

Like Supergirl and to a lesser extent Terra, Anarky could not truly go home. Unlike them, he had no desire to. Between his mother’s weary detachment and his father’s endless cries of “You’ve been manipulated by the geeks!” Never mind, of course, that nobody used the word “geek” the way he did, and a large part of his beliefs came from the old man....it was just that his father was a hypocrite and moral coward.

Angrily, he shoved such memories aside. The Imperials would be here soon.

Rose was just at the far edge of his vision to his right. He risked a glance, but she probably didn’t even notice. Focused on the moment, just as he should be.

Between the Titans and all around the city were Swiss Guard and Vatican City gendarmes. There were also a few of the Papal Zouaves around, which were supposedly disbanded years ago but had been secretly reactivated by Pope Eugene V’s predecessor-once-removed, as assassins. None of the Titans knew this, but Terra and Anarky--each students of unhappy history in their own way--suspected.

Cardinal Tosca was betting that the Zouaves would favor him, or at least enough of them would so that they would kill Anarky or Ravager in the thick of the fight. The Zouaves had not answered him yea or nay; they kept their own counsel.

Everyone was nervous.

-6-

The rumble of the tanks and armored units could be heard well in advance, and of course Supergirl and Green Lantern had detected them even before that.

It was Lantern who told Terra that Geo-Force was leading the strike force. She wept briefly and bowed her head, then nodded.

“Are you going to kill him?” Lantern asked.

“Not unless I have to.” Terra sighed.

“And what if he kills you?” Lantern pressed her.

“Risk I have to take,” she said. Her eyes were empty.

Lantern returned to his post without another word, though he was troubled in his own way over all this.

-7-

When Geo-Force arrived with his armed forces behind him, Terra was there to meet him.

They stood staring at each other for several long seconds. Several soldiers cocked their weapons, and Geo-Force held up his hand to stay them.

He looked at Terra. His face was like stone, but his eyes were tired.

“You should have run, sister,” he said.

“You should have rebelled, brother,” she answered.

He rubbed his face. “I will do what I must,” he said, wearily.

“Would be nice if you were actually trying to do that, Brion,” she said sadly. “I’m the one who chose that path.”

“Now you sound like mother.”

“Yet you’re the one doing her bidding. Odd how that sort of thing turns out, isn’t it?”

“Do you think you can kill me?” Geo-Force asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Could, yes. Will I try? That’s another question. One that also applies in reverse,” she pointed out.

“I guess we’re going to find out,” he said.

He turned and marched back to his forces and held up his hand, then threw it down.

The Markovians charged. Geo-Force blasted at Terra with lava, and she blocked with a ridge of stone that erupted from the ground.

-8-

His name was Ankon Willister.

British by birth, his parents had brought him to the Papacy when he was young. English Catholics were unusual, but not unheard of. It made things dicey; on the one hand, they were some of the few Briton citizens treated with respect by the Markovian occupation government, and on the other they were despised by the other citizenry.

So they had come here, where they were more than accepted, they were celebrated. He had been recruited into the Zouaves at an early age, noted for his fantacism and loyalty to the Church. They taught him their secrets, including the deadly Reaver’s Strike, an assassin blow from short range, up into the guts.

Some people, even believers, didn’t believe in the supernatural. In a world where metahumans were known to exist, Ankon found this laughable. And besides that, he had seen fantastic things, things that mortal man could not explain, when he was trained to be a Reaver amongst the Zouaves. Glowing blades. The touch of higher powers. Dreams that were real, and planes of existence that could only be accessed by the mind. Amazing things that mere mortal senses could not describe. That some could doubt God the Father he could understand, albeit reluctantly; that anyone could doubt the existence of the supernatural and the afterlife bordered on the laughable.

He was one of the assassins that Cardinal Tosca had approached about slaying the Titans. The Cardinal knew that the Zouaves were loyal to God and His Church; any outsider, especially a threat to the Church, was a potential target. But that did not mean he was willing to kill the Titans, or that he trusted Tosca.

One of the rarely heard cants of the Zouaves was Believe, but also know.

He would know, before he acted.

For the moment, he was on the frontline, not far from Ravager. He quietly approved of that name; it was not so different from Reaver, really. Tosca had said she was a ruthless, wanton pirate. And perhaps she was. But she was here, defending Vatican City while probably not being of the Faith; while Tosca, who was of the Faith, was using the Markovian threat as an excuse to grab for power.

Ankon was sure that he, himself, would not act against the girl, or the other vulnerable heroes. What the others amongst the Zouaves would do was another matter. Believe, but also know; what they made of what they knew was another question.

But there was no more thinking about it now; with the Ravager and two of the Vatican gendarmes, he was confronted by a tank. Shouting in berzerker rage, the Ravager leapt upon the tank, ducked under the swivelling gun turret, and started slicing away at the seam between turret and the main body of the tank.

Smiling at her boldness, Ankon hacked away with his own short blades at the tanks treads, dancing around it so as not to get run over. The two gendarmes also maneuvered around the tank, aiming with care with their guns, trying not to have bullets ricochet back at them.

-9-

Green Lantern formed a massive shield wall and pushed the enemy back.

Supergirl blasted armored units with her heat vision.

Screaming in rage, Argent sent silver shards ripping through the ranks of the soldiers that had enslaved her people.

Robin ducked and flipped and kicked and wheeled, then landed on a low flying Rocket Man’s head and wrenched it.

Deriven turned men into frogs, blasted with fireball and lightning, turned tanks and armored units into piles of worthless rust.

Anarky wanted to go help Ravager, but another Rocket Man came flying right at him, and launched a new weapon; a wrist-mounted rocket. Anarky shouted in horror and ducked, but it was heat-seeking; it turned and pivoted, reacquiring its target, meaning to kill him.

Several gendarmes opened fire on the missile, but their bullets bounced off its sides without effect and none of them entered the exhaust.

Anarky saw this and dashed towards the Rocket Man. That worthy realized what he was doing and began to back up with his jet boots, but it was too late. Anarky leapt up and grabbed one metallic wrist. The Rocket Man continued to back up, frantically shooting skywards; Anarky, looking over his shoulder and seeing the rocket closing in, let go and fell.

It worked; the rocket homed in on the heat of the Rocket Man’s boots rather than Anarky. The Markovian screamed, then exploded.

Anarky fell and landed hard on top of an armored unit. He was lucky; only bone bruises, no actual breaks. He didn’t know that yet, of course; all he knew was agony. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his cattleprod into the armored unit, electrifying it. In his time with the Titans, he had managed to gain insulation in his suit. He grinned behind his mask as he heard the Markovians in the transport screaming.

-10-

Terra slammed Geo-Force with alternating boulders, left and right. His lava flows could not completely block her. He, on the other hand, could not get through her defenses to burn her.

“I do not wish to kill you, brother,” she said, almost weeping.

“If I do not kill you, I rather think Mother will kill me,” he shouted, desperately burning away at her defenses.

“I’m sorry brother.” She sighed.

He blinked. “You would actually kill me?”

“No. I do not want to, but thankfully I do not have to.”

“What do you m--” he began, frowning in puzzlement, when one of her rocks came in from behind, in a curving arc, and clipped the back of his head. He grunted and fell over.

“Precise control, brother,” Terra said to his unconscious form. She shielded herself and her brother from bullets and tank fire almost absently as she looked down at him. “One would have thought that your time as a bureaucrat would have taught you attention to detail. But then, I suppose paperwork and power are two different things.”

She hardened her defense into a stone ball around herself and her brother. She could not spare much time for this; the others would need her. “Mother will not kill you,” she said thoughtfully. “She needs an heir, and is too old to bare a new child for the throne. She’s too much invested in you now. Which is not to say she won’t punish you, and for that I am sorry.” Carefully she rolled him over onto his back and kissed his forehead.


She wrapped two rings of stone around him with her powers, then turned her ball of stone into shards which she threw into the enemy.

-11-

Ankon Willister had helped Ravager enter the tank and kill the crew. The gendarmes were falling, but so were the Markovians. The occasional Zouave struck here and there; most were disguised as gendarmes. Ankon saw one--a sister rather than a brother, rare but not unknown--pretend to fall, then nip back up behind a Markovian soldier and cut his throat.

And of course, the costumed heroes were there. One by one, the green one and the girl in the black bodysuit flew around and took out the Rocket Men. He did not see them often--he was not foolish enough to distract himself from the battle--but they were hard to miss, out of the corner of his eye.

With the Rocket Men down, the metahumans were able to focus their full attention on the armed forces. The gendarmes were falling, but gave almost as good as they got, and the Zouaves were doing their part--though yes, they had lost one or two of their number also. But between what they were doing and the actions of the costumed heroes, the outcome was clear to him; their victory was inevitable.

To their credit, the Markovians seemed to know this. More than enough to take the city had been sent--presumably the extra numbers were to deal with the metahuman involvement--but it was not enough. But even as it became clear that their defeat was inevitable, still they fought on. And Ankon presumed he knew why--they were hoping to kill one or more of the costumed foe, to weaken or kill their opposition to the Empire. You had to give the soldiers of the Empire credit, they would fight to expand their Empire beyond the limits of most.

But not all limits.

Suddenly cries were heard from amongst the remaining Markovians; while he did not speak their language, they were saying one word over and over, and it sounded suspiciously like “Prince”. Had one of the Imperial Royals been involved in this fight?

The last two armored units were retreating back through the streets of Rome, perhaps two dozen soldiers in all, and they had placed a body, caged in bands of stone, on top of one of the armored units. Ankon had it in his mind to follow; the defenders of the city were exhausted, but he and some of the heroes could certainly pursue.

But the heroes gave only token pursuit; and while he or another unwounded Zouave might challenge, they would have to get close. It was hard to sneak through a hail of bullets.

But there was one thing he might yet do. Yes, something else worth doing....

As the survivors around him gave ragged, weary cheers and Ravager celebrated on top of the tank, Ankon Willister slipped back into Vatican City.

-12-

Cardinal Tosca was shocked.

He was too shocked to even be angry.

The Markovians had been repulsed.

It was true that not a single Zouave had taken his offer to attack the vulnerable costumes, and he resented that, but even if they had, could the Markovians had won? He was not sure.

The Markovians had brought their own powered champion--the Prince? Had it truly been the Prince himself?--and many of those men with flying jetpacks and armor. But it had not been enough. When their champion fell, they had carried him away, retreating.

Now what was he do to? The Empress could not make him Pope if her forces had not even taken the city!!

They could try again, of course--the Empire certainly had more than enough resources for that--but Tosca was realistic; he knew that the Empire was more concerned with these costumed fools than anything else. With them gone, the Empire could claim they taught the Church a lesson and be done with it.

Something must be done. If the Zouaves wouldn’t do it, he thought as he hurried down a dimly-lit corridor, he might have to arrange for the Pope’s death himself. Poisoned food perhaps. Making it look like an accident would be difficult, but to restore the Papacy and the Church to its proper glory, he would--

He gasped in pain and looked down, and saw a shaft of metal that had been slipped into his belly. The blade glowed faintly red; the Reaver’s Strike.

A Zouave had...killed...him?

As the blade withdrew, he slumped, uncomprehending, to the floor.

Ankon Willister slung the body over his shoulder and tapped the wall. A panel opened and he slipped through.

Killing a Cardinal--even a corrupt and twisted one such as this--was a terrible thing. But the Zouaves, as ever, did what they must.


-13-

The next day.

“I must thank you,” the Pope said to the row of Titans standing before him. Robin and Anarky were both injured; Anarky’s wounds had been seen to, Robin had bandaged himself.

The Titans were silent.

“You have done a great thing,” the Pope tried again.

Anarky turned away.

“I know that you had doubts about us, but--” the Pope entreated.

Supergirl turned away.

“You have failed the people of Italy,” Argent said, and turned away.

“Faith is power, but you have failed to address it properly,” said Deriven, and turned away.

Green Lantern shook his head and turned away.

Ravager smirked, sneered, and turned away.

Only Terra remained.

She said, “I hope the next Pope institutes significant reforms.”

“I shall see to it myself,” the Pope promised, badly shaken.

Terra stared at him for several long moments. Finally she said, “The Gospel According to Mark. Chapter three, verse seven.”

She turned away.


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