Titans: The Resistance #34

Assassination is the extreme form of censorship.
George Bernard Shaw

Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny.
Thomas Jefferson


-1-

President Michael Badnarik was tired.

He was in the third year of his presidency, and already the political wolves were howling at the door. The Markovian Empire had suffered setbacks, to be sure, but his critics were quick to point out that none of that was to his credit. The economy was doing good, but people were worried about the Markovian threat and the need for space exploration to advance. Already, the Democrat, Republican and Green contenders were gathering. And his own party was waiting for him to begin his re-election campaign.

Trouble was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to run again.

He was not the first Libertarian to sit in the Executive Office, but he was the first in a while. He had never imagined the job would be so hard. Being Mayor of Austin and then a Congressman had not prepared him for this. He had done the best job he could, and his approval rating was middling; even his political enemies admired his (relative) honesty and hard work.

But the strain was beginning to tell. Anyone who wasn’t a power-mad scumbag suffered under the weight of this job, and the wear and tear it put on them.

If he declined to run again, Vice President Christine Smith would be more than happy to step into the breach; but the other parties would nevertheless see it as a sign of weakness, and pounce.

He sighed.

“Sir,” one of the Secret Service men muttered, “we are receiving disturbing messages from the FBI.”

“Didn’t we shut them down and suspend their funding?” he asked, only half-serious.

“Yes, sir. And rehired about half of them as private investigators, as you know. There are three different reports from them that all say the say thing.”

“And that is?”

“That the Markovians have targeted you for assassination.”

Badarik’s jaw dropped.

“What?!”

-2-

“You wanted to talk?” Terra said, stepping into Rose’s cabin.

“Yah. Just you. Not the others.”

“Not even your anarchist boyfriend?” Terra meant it as an amiable jape.

But Ravager’s one remaining eye flashed. “Especially not him. His politics are...difficult.”

“Which for this group, is saying something,” Terra agreed. “What is it?”

“You’ve heard me mention my brothers before. Half-brothers, to be exact. Different mother. We were never close--I don’t talk to them much. But I know who they are, and how to get in touch with them. And they can get in touch with me. And the older one just did.”

“Really?” she sat down. “What did he say?”

“My brothers are both American, born and raised. One’s in the government, one’s in the military. And both of ‘em have heard the same thing. Something that might be...interesting to the Titans.”

“They know about us?”

Ravager smirked. “Most of the free world knows about the Titans by now, Tara. And the boys are smart--narrow, but smart. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’ve been helping you, and they did. And they heard something that might be....kinda important.”

“So tell me,” Terra urged.

“They think the Empire wants to whack their President.”

Terra blinked, then frowned. “Whatever for? Wouldn’t that only galvanize the free world against them?”

“The free world is already against the Empire,” Rose countered “You know that. The Empire wants people to be afraid of them again. To wait for the hammer to fall. To believe there is no escape.”

“To believe in the Empire’s inevitable victory,” Terra said in a distant, fainting voice. Her eyes were elsewhere, remembering her childhood, her mother’s determination.

Another person might have shuddered; Rose simply nodded. “Exactly. They want a major psychological blow. A devastating attack on morale. America is mostly defensive and high-tech in its movements. Japan is even more high-tech, but has the Empire on its doorstep. They’re holding on, but for how long? Markovia wants to be on America’s doorstep. They want to get back on Themyscria’s. They want to re-stabilize the areas we’ve wreaked havoc in. If they can’t kill us--though they’ll keep trying, rest assured of that--they’ll break people’s spirit some other way.”

“And this way is as good as any,” Terra agreed. “Yes, we will help your brothers.”

“Then we need to talk tactics,” Rose said.

“Yes, but for that, we’ll need Robin.” Terra held up a hand. “I know, you don’t want me to tell him everything, and we won’t. The assassination threat is enough.”

“We don’t need him to plan,” Rose said dismissively.

“Maybe not, but we need an American, and he is one. Unless you’d rather go through the same masquerade we went through just to get to Rome?”

Rose grimaced. “Point taken,” she conceded. “If nothing else, his rich Bat-backers can make this easier.”

Terra sighed. “Why doesn’t this make me feel any better?”

Rose’s face finally softened. “You don’t have to feel better about it, Princess. You just have to do what needs to be done. You showed me you could in Rome, and I will not forget.”

“Thanks...I think.”

-3-

Midnight, The Washington Monument.

Joseph Wilson stared up at the Monument, and the clear night sky beyond, the crescent moon.

He felt much older than his years.

“You’re far too out in the open, brother,” Grant’s voice came from the shadows. “Surely the CIA taught you better than that?”

Joseph hissed a sigh of impatience. “Of course they did,” he said in his soft voice. “And of course there would be no point hiding from you.”

“Fair enough.” Grant stepped out where Joseph could see him. He was dressed all in black as usual, but had left the sniper rifle itself behind. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t carrying other weapons, of course. As Joseph himself was.

“What did you want to speak about?” Joseph raised an eyebrow.

“I spoke to our sister about the problem.”

The problem. Only Grant would refer to the plot to assassinate the President as simply a ‘problem’. “Did you? What did she say?”

“She said she would tell her costumed friends, and thought it likely they would help.”

“And if the White House doesn’t want their help?”

Grant shrugged. “I’ve never met them, but if our sister’s opinion is anything to go by, they’ll probably try anyway, whether their help is wanted or not.”

“I still don’t entirely trust her.”

Grant emitted a short, bitter laugh. “You’re a spook; not trusting people is part of your job description.”

“It’s more than that. Just because she’s our half-sister--”

“Yes, yes, yes. And a pirate. And a loose cannon, and a rogue element, and a wild card. Like our father was. Trust her in this, if nothing else.”

Joseph made a small noise, not prepared to commit itself.

Grant shook his head. “Just be ready to help when the time comes.”

“Always,” Joseph said.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here.”

-4-

Robin had taken the news readily enough, and agreed to contact his mentors in Gotham.

Then it was time to brief the others.

Rose turned a beady eye on Anarky. “Gonna make any smart remarks?”

Anarky shrugged. “I feel about it the same way I did about helping Rome. Annoying, but if it helps to weaken or frustrate the Empire, I’m game.”

“I’ve no objection to helping,” said Supergirl, “but surely if they themselves are already aware of the threat, then they are taking appropriate measures?”

“Appropriate against a sniper rifle or something of that sort,” Green Lantern said, “sure. But the Markovians are known to be more.....full-force.”

“Surely the Empire can be more secretive when necessary,” said Argent.

“No, you’re both right,” Terra said. “Especially after events in Rome went the way they did. They’re probably planning at least two separate attempts, maybe more; a traditional sniper attack, which the Secret Service would be ready for, and a more overt metahuman attack, which they won’t.”

“I’m thinking that whether they kill the President or not, this whole thing might backfire on them,” Robin said. “The US might go to war.”

“And with your current military policy, that wouldn’t exactly amount to a full-on offensive, now would it?” Rose pointed out.

“No,” Robin agreed. “It would amount to something sneaky, high-tech, and nasty. Your contacts, whoever they are, would know this.”

Rose blew out a sigh. “Point taken.”

“Mother probably thinks it’s worth the risk,” Terra said, quietly. “She would probably prefer open war to all this stalemate. And it’s also a battle she can win easier than battles against our hit-and-fade operations.”

Rose looked at Terra and nodded, her opinion of the renegade princess having gone up another notch. “Any other questions?”

“Just the ones of how and when,” Deriven said.

“Anyone else?” Terra prompted. There was silence.

“To answer Deriven’s question, we’ll be going through Gotham.”

Rose buried her face in her hands. “Not disguise again,” she moaned.

“Not as such, no. Not like last time.”

“Good,” the pirate said emphatically.

Anarky stepped close. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“That’s correct, lover.”

Now it was Anarky’s turn to bury his own masked face in his hands. “I suppose you’ll tell me when you’re ready?”

“I’ll tell you all, when necessary. Enough now.” Rose turned and gave orders to head for Gotham.

-5-

The spires of Gotham were heartbreakingly familiar to Robin, of course. Various ships of Rose’s fleet had been there before; not under their own flags, of course. Nor were they now.

Wayne Shipping was expecting them. They would quietly transfer from the Sweet Lilli to a tug, and from there to a limousine. This prevented any of them (Rose and Terra most significantly) from having to take their costumes off.

Rose nudged Robin on the shoulder. “So, your bat-bosses bothered by you spending so much time away from Gotham?”

“Not since it means I’m fighting the Empire, no. Batman has been handling Gotham relatively well, though it remains true he would do better with a partner.”

Rose blinked, then chuckled. “So serious. You and Terra are such a good match it’s hilarious.”

“Um....thanks.”

For just a fleeting moment, Rose wished that Robin and Terra hadn’t gone for each other; the boy would’ve been a fun romp. But she’d found another, and in any case it was true that those two went together so well. Even if they didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Thankfully, they wouldn’t meet Batman or his elder predecessor directly (Terra was especially grateful for that after the last time; and Rose wasn’t exactly hot on the idea, either. Anarky knew, without being told, that Robin was already keeping an eye on him, and that however annoying that might be, it was better than having his bosses focus on him.) False identities for all of them except Robin were available, and they took the papers, along with several changes of civilian clothes, though they did not use them yet. Then they were shuttled off on a private train to DC.

Rose’s plan--which Terra and Robin had agreed with--was to split the group into two teams. She, Anarky and Robin would meet with her brothers, while the rest would keep an eye out for a more high-powered Markovian attack.

Terra still wanted to know the story of exactly how Rose came to have two half-brothers. Rose had only told her that both of them were older than her, which implied that they were from Deathstroke’s past before he had taken up piracy. Rose had previously admitted that while she wasn’t American, her father had been by birth.

“Your...contacts know we’re coming, I presume,” Terra said after a period of silence.

“They have a fairly good idea, yeah. I’m going to let one of them know I’m here.”

“Only one of them?” Anarky said. He and Robin were still in the dark about the truth of Rose’s family, as were the others.

She nodded. “I’ve met them twice in the flesh, when I was....younger. But one of them is more helpful than the other. And now,” she sighed regretfully, “I really am going to have to change.” She swayed into the back of the train car, and Anarky was so obviously staring at her that even Argent had to laugh.

-6-

The Titans split into two teams as they arrived in DC, all of them in civilian garb now. It was late now; all of them felt the pressure of time.

Terra took the powered Titans with her, and as agreed during her previous discussions with Rose and Robin, she took her part of the team towards Howard University, while Rose took the others towards Fort McNair.

“Having any problems taking orders from me, birdbrain?” Rose asked, smirking at him.

Robin, in his civilian identity of Tim Drake, shrugged. “Not really. As with when we helped you in your pirate campaigns, you’re our guide.”

Actually, Rose had been thinking of what happened in Themyscria, but she didn’t say so. “Even in your own country?” she teased.

“In Gotham, maybe. Here, no. Actually, I’m surprised that someone else hasn’t spoken up.”

“That being me, I assume,” Anarky said. Like the rest of them he was in civvies, though mercifully he wasn’t using his real name. His unruly red-brown hair almost reached his shoulders; it needed a cutting. “I could talk about this epicenter of parasitic bureaucracy, sure; and some other time, I would. But the sad truth is the Markovians are worse. If we ever do truly defeat them....then perhaps we’ll discuss it further.”

“Still, it must be a pain for you to compromise yourself so,” Rose prodded.

Anarky shrugged. “I compromise myself every day of my life. Every time I ride a public bus, use the post office, buy something that’s price has been inflated by taxes; heck, anytime I use this fake stuff we call money, which is not based on gold, silver or any real world commodity, but on inflation and debt. For an extremist to function in society at all, compromise is a fact of life.”

Everyone was stunned into silence for a moment, realizing how serious he was.

“And besides,” he went on, “that’s part of why we’re together, isn’t it? Because you have no rules.”

“None beyond the common sense variety, anyway,” she admitted, amused.

“Common sense isn’t,” he said, and no one argued with him there, either. “But enough of this.”

The three of them spoke no more, and Rose led them onward.

-7-

The underground tunnels were supposed to be closed off. They were no longer used for sewage; newer more efficient lines had been built. They had been considered, then rejected, Certainly they were abandoned; no one had been down here for years.

Until now.

There were three teams. The first was the traditional sniper attack, as expected; a two-man team, a rifleman and a spotter. Highly-trained, but nothing superhuman about them.

The second team was a fist of five; three rocket-men and two actual metahumans. One of them was super-strong with an additional psychic attack. It was planned that if the snipers failed, he would get close enough to the President to either fry his brain in his skull, or simply crush him. The other was an agile woman who could teleport, use a sort of telekinetic thrust to knock people down or away, and who was also skilled in the use of throwing knives. Her marching orders were more about taking out the Secret Service, rather than the President himself; and she would move in for the kill only if her partner failed.

The third team was not expected. It was a team of one. He was American born and raised, but was highly dissatisfied with the current administration, and the last three or four that had preceded it. While no fan of the Markovians either, he had no qualms about taking their money in exchange for destroying a President he himself hated. He had no metahuman abilities or combat training. He was, however, very well-educated in a variety of fields of knowledge. In his right hand was an innocuous briefcase, the sort that any businessman might carry.

The leader of the Markovians, the super-strong brute, eyed the briefcase warily. “It’s not an explosive, is it?”

The man shook his head. “I am no suicide bomber; I mean to live through this and profit by it. Besides, how else could I spend the money? Or save it, to be more accurate.”

“Then I don’t want to know,” the brute said. “Except if it should affect us.”

“Not unless you plan on staying in town afterwards. I won’t be, myself.”

“We wouldn’t have, but duly noted,” the knife-wielder promised.

“Enough talk. Good luck,” the man said, and walked away into the dark.

“He annoys me,” the knife-wielder frowned, reverting to Markovian now that their pet American had gone.

“Well thankfully, we won’t see him again either way.” The brute turned to the sniper duo. “You’re next. You have four different locations to choose from; get to work.”

Neither of the two said anything; the elder, who was the actual shooter, merely nodded. They were hardened Imperial assassins; they had been busy in Spain and Russia of late. They packed up their gear and left, in the opposite direction to the American.

“So, that leaves us,” the knife-thrower said, pinning back her chestnut hair in preparation for battle. “When do we strike?”

The brute smiled. “Tomorrow.”

-8-

The sun was setting by the time Rose, Robin and Anarky arrived at Fort McNair.

“A military instillation?” Anarky was beginning to panic. “Is that wise?”

“We’re expected,” Rose whispered back. “Now, shut up.”

The guards snapped to attention. Most DC tourists assumed they were ceremonial; Rose knew better. “Relax, boys. Lieutenant Wilson should be expecting us.”

“That I am,” a voice agreed from within. “At ease, they’re with me.” He stepped out, blond hair cut high-and-tight, marking him as Marine Corps; he was in working uniform rather than dress, but the guards clearly took him seriously all the same.

“Sir,” one of the guards said tentatively, “You know we can’t just--”

“As you were,” the man said, giving a dismissive wave. “I won’t let them in; in fact I’ll be going with them.”

“Do you have authoriz-” one of the soldiers began.

Lieutenant Wilson turned and stared at him. “Of course I do. Any other stupid questions?”

“No, sir!” the man saluted.

“That’s good, then. My car is over here.”

Robin and Anarky exchanged a look, then followed Rose as she briskly walked over to the long black sedan.

“No driver?” Rose asked as they drove away.

“Not unless I want one, and I usually don’t.” He looked at Robin and Anarky over his shoulder as they pulled up to a red light. “This is it? I thought the group was bigger.”

“We split the team in the anticipation of multiple attacks,” Rose said.

Now the big man frowned. “I’ll want to know where they are and what they’re doing.”

“Of course,” Robin said before Anarky could open his mouth. “We figured something of the sort anyway.”

“They will most likely liaise with...the CIA operative,” Rose said carefully.

The man relaxed and grinned, and pulled the car into the intersection. “Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Though it will take a while to smooth his ruffled feathers. As for me....you really shouldn’t have walked up to the front door like that.”

“While teasing you is fun,” Rose admitted, “that wasn’t my first choice. The simple truth is, we don’t know how much time we have.”

“Fair enough,” Lieutenant Wilson agreed, relaxing a bit. “So let’s talk tactics....sister.”

Robin’s mouth dropped open, and Anarky all but shouted, “WHAT?!”

-9-

Terra’s group had almost arrived at Howard University, when a soft voice called out.

“That’s far enough, Princess Markov.”

She turned, only mildly surprised, to see an unremarkable thin blond man in a stiff black suit with matching tie and trousers, and mirrorshades that reflected the setting sun.

“Easy,” she said to the others. “Please don’t blow our cover, thank you. If you are who I think you are, you know better than to act in such an unprofessional manner.”

“You are expected, yes,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean you are trusted.”

Green Lantern snorted. “What, you gonna pull a gun on us?”

“While I am armed, no. That’s not how I deal with capes,” he said. He lowered his mirrorshades and Terra could see his eyes; they glowed a bright, unnatural green.

Contact!

To be continued....


If you wish to comment on this issue, please CLICK HERE to visit the letters page.