Titans: The Resistance #35

Assassination has never changed the history of the world.
Benjamin Disraeli


Absolutism tempered by assassination.
Count Munster

-1-

Terra stumbled back and the blond man disappeared.

Green Lantern and Argent exchanged an uncertain glance.

“What did he do to her?” Supergirl stepped to Terra’s side.

Terra muttered incoherent words and waved her arms around, unsteady on her legs. She didn’t seem to be aware of them, or anything else.

“He’s somewhere he shouldn’t be,” Deriven said, and for the first time in as long as the Titans had known him, he seemed genuinely angry.

“Where?” Green Lantern asked.

“Inside her head!”

-2-

Joseph Wilson swam through Terra’s mind and memories, and was thunderstruck at what he saw.

He had not truly believed she was working for her mother, but he had believed she had her own agenda...perhaps mobilizing the free world as her own powerbase from which to seize the Markovian throne for herself in a desperate, devious power-grab.

But no, she was even more motivated to bring the Empire down than many in the US Intelligence community were; and strangely, not only was she hopelessly idealistic in her beliefs, but her exposure to the real world had only hardened and reaffirmed her beliefs. That was odd. She confirmed what the CIA already suspected about the old Justice Society, in hiding and wreaking havoc, she had liaised with the Gotham vigilante community--

”SEGENERAITH ESUNHAH!” A voice echoed through Terra’s psyche, and Joseph found himself violently ejected from her mind.

That had never happened before.

The fact that he had been forcibly removed from her mind was shocking, and almost as disorienting as the act itself. How had that even been achieved?

A man was standing over him; his hair was red like flame, and his eyes seared into Joey’s soul.

The mage. He truly had such power then? The idea shocked and terrified Joey even as he realized he had seen the spellcaster’s power while in Terra’s mind. Arcane power was rare, and not his forte; until now he had had a hard time even believing it existed.

The man stared at him a moment longer, then he spoke in a low, serious voice. “Hear me, possessor. There are few things in the multiverse that rile me. Those that possess the bodies of others are one of those few things. I can tell your intentions are sincere.....for now. But beware your power, for it is more dangerous than you know; both to yourself and those you inhabit.”

Joseph had no idea how to answer that.

Lantern tended to Terra. “Are you okay?”

Terra turned her head aside and spat. “Ask me again in about twenty minutes.” She turned a withering glare on Jericho. “I tell you now, if it weren’t for who you were....connected with....You’re just as bad as any Imperial.”

Having just been inside her head, and knowing the truth of her words, Jericho had no idea what to say.

“He probably has snipers watching us anyway, ready to gun us down.” Argent wasn’t in much better mood than Terra. And there was Deriven, still looming over Joseph, full of sorcerous fury.

Weakly, Joseph shook his head. “That’s the sort of thing that my...Marine Corps associate gets up to. I tend to work alone when possible, with a partner when necessary. I had to ensure that Terra could be trusted.”

Terra gave him a long, bleak, weary stare. Then she blew out an angry sigh. “Yes, I expected that. It’s the method you used that is the problem.”

“Indeed.” Not only was Deriven so angry, it was the most emotional that any of the Titans had seen him get, ever, about anything. “When you break down the walls of the mind like the fabled walls of Jericho, take care of what you do to those that live inside.”

Now Joseph’s own anger flared, though he was careful to keep it out of his face. This one alone could destroy him; that much was clear. And he had chosen not to. That didn’t even begin to take the others into account.

So instead he looked up into Deriven’s eyes, and said simply, “I do what I must. If you understand anything about me, you understand that too.”

“You chose this life long ago. I can tell that much. But never mind. It’s not even what you ‘must’ do; it’s how you choose to do it.”

“Seems I’m not the only one who invades minds.” Joseph stared into Deriven’s eyes, unflinching.

“Does he have a death wish?” Lantern muttered.

Unexpectedly, Deriven unleashed a burst of bitter laughter. “Oh yes, reading psychic emanations is exactly the same thing as possession. Truly, you are a wonder of rationalization!”

“Seems the same thing from here; so sorry, Doctor Orpheus. But in any event, Terra’s innocence has been proven to me. You will be given whatever assistance is required.”

Whether I like it or not, he added silently.

Perhaps Deriven heard the thought. In any event, he exchanged a glance with Terra, who reluctantly nodded. The mage thrust out an arm, and Joseph reluctantly grabbed it and pulled himself up.

Terra marched forward and furiously whispered, “And here I thought you’d be the more reasonable brother.”

“Yeah,” Joseph answered. “I get that a lot.”

-3-

Rose fumed for about three seconds, then she reached forward and slapped Grant in the face.

Hard.

Three times.

Smiling a hard smile, he punched her in the shoulder.

She jabbed at his face with her nails, but he blocked; she raked her nails down his wrist hard enough to draw blood.

Robin and Anarky exchanged a glance, uncertain whether to intervene or not. The fact that the two of them had gone at it like this in the enclosed space of the car, with relative agility, impressed both of them.

“Still the hellcat, I see,” Grant said, still smiling with that iron grin.

“Especially when provoked. You do understand the concept of secrecy, I presume!” Rose’s one eyed glare was awesome to behold.

“Need-to-know basis is the phrase you’re looking for,” Grant countered. “And it figures your teammates would need to know.”

“That we share a father. Yes, okay, congratulations on that bombshell. Anything more intelligent to say?!”

Smoothly Grant turned back to the wheel and gently pressed on the gas, just as the light changed. He ignored his wounded wrist, not to mention the swelling on the left side of his face. “We know the Markovians are in town,” he said without preamble, “that much is obvious. But they’ve hidden themselves well.”

“So much for security,” Anarky said in a low voice.

“This country walked away from the path of tyranny years ago,” Grant said disdainfully. “Perhaps too much so.”

“A temporary reprieve, ready to reverse itself at any time,” Anarky answered.

“In any case,” Robin cut in, “Markovian Special Ops would have found a workaround. Isn’t that right?”

“Standard Special Ops procedure,” Grant agreed. “But we can’t afford to be purely reactive and wait for them to strike, either.”

-4-

“You going to be all right?” Argent asked Terra softly.

She nodded unhappily. “More or less. It’s more shocking and disconcerting than anything else.”

“Don’t downplay what he did to you,” Deriven said, eyes showing some compassion. “The only thing that can be said in his defense is that he’s had these powers since birth.”

“I’m not gonna play it off, rest assured.” Terra’s eyes glittered. “I’m still processing it.”

Ahead of them, Joseph kept his silence. He knew that what he had done had been necessary, but arguing the point further would only mitigate any help they might be able to give.

He led them into a dirty, disused back alley. Despite the fact that they were now in a much more disreputable part of town, no one seemed to notice; and certainly none followed them.

“You don’t seriously expect us to believe your base is back here,” Lantern said sourly.

“I do believe you know of the old Society,” Joseph answered. “Yes? They appreciate deceiving frontage, or so we understand. Besides, this country went from interventionism to high-tech subterfuge as its main method several generations ago. You should know that too.”

So saying, he bent down and lifted a sewer cover that came up much more lightly than it should have. He put it aside, then turned to face them.

“Normally there’s a password and all sorts of scans for this entrance, which I myself will be going through. Please give me time enough to do that before following.”

“How long?” Lantern asked.

“No more than ten minutes. Almost certainly less.” So saying, he stepped backwards and fell down, not into a sewer, but rather a long, sleek mirrored chute.

-5-

“Joseph is still probably playing cloak and dagger with the others,” Grant said, pulling up by a dilapidated warehouse. “When he’s done, he’ll discuss the metahuman attack scenario with them. Whereas we will be handling the sniper. We are also keeping an eye out for other possibilities, though there’s been no sign yet.”

“Yet,” Rose chorused unhappily.

“They might try more than two attacks?” Anarky frowned.

Robin nudged him with an elbow. “One thing the Empire doesn’t lack is resources to exploit. They’ll throw whatever they think they can get away with at us.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, but two main attacks are the probability,” Grant agreed.

“Well, any metahuman attack is likely to be obvious. That’s Terra’s department, and the more high-powered members of the team.”

“And probably easier for Joseph and his fellow spooks to detect a metahuman strike before it actually occurs. Whereas we are concerned with snipers. It’s their job to hide....until it’s too late. We can, of course, place guards in every sniper vantage point, but if their snipers are any good, they’ll expect that, and so pick a more....unusual location.”

“More than one?” Anarky asked.

“Snipers usually work in teams,” Rose muttered

“Exactly. A shooter and a spotter. The spotter helps guide the shooter’s aim. They take turns in each role.”

“Yes of course,” Anarky shook his head, “should have realized that.”

“We stop the snipers by thinking like them,” Grant went on. “Easy for me, since I am one.”

“Which reminds me,” Rose said, “Where’s your spotter?”

“On call if I need him,” Grant said. “Which may be necessary, before all is over. I’d rather take the enemy at a distance; so would they. But going against that instinct would be the clever choice. And for them too.”

“So what should be a long-range battle might wind up being up close and personal?” Robin asked.

“Indeed. Especially if they want the President badly enough, which I’m sure they do.”

“Fortunately, we can help with that,” Rose said.

Grant’s grin was unpleasant. “Indeed.”

-6-

Terra was the first of the Titans to slide down the silvered chute, as Joseph had anticipated. The trip was not long, just disconcerting. But he had no illusions about controlling the situation; the mage had already made that much clear. And despite his bold words, he now knew Terra to be sincere, a thought that startled him more than he cared to admit. He had seen the honesty in her mind, and he did not doubt it, but nevertheless it puzzled him. But clearly they had indeed come to help; all of them, not just Rose out of some dim sense of familial obligation, or even just to hit back at the Markovians. They had also come because it was the right thing to do. Joseph wasn’t sure what to make of that.

In any event, he waited patiently as, one by one, they came down the chute and landed on the black padded mats. The mage, the Lantern and the silver-skinned girl used their powers to ease their falls, as expected.

When they had all recovered, he made a sweeping gesture to the blinking lights of the room. Several shadowy figures were scattered around the room attending to various computer monitors. Nor was ‘shadowy’ a metaphor; they were literally hard to look at. Some sort of stealth camouflage, Argent guessed.

Joseph looked pleased with himself. “In recent years, the CIA has truly reinvented the concept of clandestine,” he said.

“The Empire has similar skills, sadly.” Terra was still glaring at him.

“Of course. Now, once they attack in force, they’ll be easy to detect, but to be sure you’d like to anticipate them. So would we.”

“You have a plan, I assume,” Lantern said.

“Of course he does,” Deriven answered. “His kind always do.”

“They want to take out the President,” Joseph said, “so we make them attack before they are ready.”

“You are coordinating this with the contact Ravager is meeting?” Terra asked.

Joseph had to admire her discretion, especially under pressure. Of course, Grant had probably spilled the beans by now, but there was no need to speak of such things yet. “We will be. I shall contact him presently, unless...”

There were three rapid beeps from the nearest computer.

“...he contacts me first,” Joseph finished.

-7-

President Badnarik frowned. “You’re sure staying here is the best solution?”

“I don’t know about best,” the head of his Secret Service detachment answered, “but it is part of the stratagem that the CIA and Marine Corps agreed upon, and it is the best way to keep you safe.”

The President looked around their surroundings. “Well, I’ll give them credit, it is an unexpected strategy.”

“That’s the idea, Mister President.”

“After this is over, we’re going to have to take a more proactive stance against the Markovians.”

“More military spending?” The Secret Service agent raised a brow. “Not exactly like you, or the sort of thing you campaigned on.”

“Not if we ask for contributions,” Badnarik answered, “and not if we continue to push on the high technology and stealth fronts. We cannot meet the Markovians’ brute force; instead we will outsmart them.”

The agent laughed. “Now, that sounds like a campaign speech.”

Badnarik shrugged. “Just speaking the truth.”

-8-

Dawn.

The two-man sniper team had used the sewer routes to sneak into the Decatur House, a museum northwest of the White House. They were on the roof by 3 am, and no one knew they were there except satellite observation; and by the time that data reached the eyes of anyone in authority, it would be too late.

“The President is up early,” the older man said, with a sour grin on his face.

“Can’t believe he’d stay in his office like that,” the younger man said, staring through his spotter binoculars.

“He thinks himself strong. Or he thinks his Secret Service agents can shield him from us. Or perhaps he is a fool. It matters not. Ours is the task; let us not leave it to the brutal stupidity of the metahumans. Do you want the shot?”

The younger man was flattered, but he did not take his eyes from the binoculars. “The last kill was mine; it’s your turn.”

The older man considered asking again; after all, he was old and the best days of his career were behind him. But no matter. The job must be done, it didn’t matter which one of them did it. And the boy was right; his had been the last kill. “Very well, then.”

He knelt and aimed carefully, timing his breathing. For him it was an old routine. Wait....focus.....The Secret Service agents shuffled and moved around the target, but that was no matter. He could shoot through one of the enemy if he must, but given the choice, he would wait for the right moment.

The moment came.

He exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

“Hit, confirmed hit!” His junior’s voice was excited, but still quiet. Professional.

Not that the old man needed the confirmation, he saw the blood spray as the man went down. It had been one of their easier hits, considering.

“Immediate extraction,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

-9-

“Sector 2-B,” said Grant. “The shot came from there. Go, go, go!”

“Will we catch them in time?” Robin asked as they piled into Grant’s personal vehicle.

Rose smiled for the first time since they had come to the Capitol. “Oh yes.”

-10-

There were about twenty people in the building, mostly scared museum patrons.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be closed today?” the younger man frowned.

The elder wasted no time with words. They had escaped through crowds before. They drew no weapons, merely kept their guns--the older man’s already dismantled and put away, the younger’s never taken out in the first place--in their briefcases. They came down the stairs and drew a few puzzled glances, but no alarm. They walked briskly towards the basement.

But on the ground floor, two security guards had gotten the word and were waiting for them. “Drop the suitcases,” one of them said, revolvers leveled, “or we fire. No second warnings.”

“So, you are not entirely sheep. Very well.” The old man made to put down his briefcase...then threw it, the younger man following a second after.

The guards fired, even as both assassins dropped on the stairwell. One shot would have gone wild regardless, and the other was dodged by the quick thinking of the Markovian operatives. One thrown briefcase connected, hurting the guard only slightly.

Still they made no attempt to reach the guns. Instead, each drew a small ceramic knife from their belts. They threw themselves at the guards. One of them got another shot off, striking the old man in the shoulder; but both assassins found their targets with their blades, going for the jugular.

Now there was blood spray, and screams.

They recovered their briefcases and made it into the basement quickly, not knowing that Grant, Rose, Robin and Anarky were entering the house above them.

The older operative kept up with the younger, despite his wound; the younger man made no attempt to tend to him, but kept running; if the old man fell, his orders were to leave him behind. Standard procedure.

They dropped through the hole in the floor and had made it perhaps twenty paces when a shot rang out, barely missing both of them.

“You’re good,” said Grant. “But not good enough. Surrender.”

Both men went not for their knives, but for pills in their belts.

Cyanide.

Robin knocked the old man’s pill away and Rose rammed a blade through his existing bullet wound and the wall beyond, pinning him in place.. He kicked and struggled feebly, but Rose gave a terrible grin and headbutted him.

Anarky threw his electrified cattle-prod like a javelin and shocked the younger man; his cynaide pill dropped from spasming fingers, and Grant stepped on it.

-11-

“I don’t understand,” the brunette knife-wielder said, frowning. “Team One fired their shot, we know they did. But nothing on the American news feeds, not even of a thwarted attempt.”

“Nothing on the Internet, either. Not even rumors,” the brute responded. They had waited two hours, but still no sign. Neither positive nor negative. Nothing. Too long for a simple news blackout or delaying tactic, especially in this information-saturated society.

Abruptly, the knife-wielder cursed. “Of course. The Americans are not complete fools; they must have had some notion we were coming. This complete silence can mean only one thing.....they set a decoy.”

“Should we abort?” one of the Rocket-Men asked uncertainly.

The brute whirled on him. “Do not ever speak such treachery again! You were trained better than that! We were brought in for this very reason; in case Team One failed! Now we move!”

“They must have hidden the President somewhere secure,” the brute reasoned. “We do not know exactly where he is.”

“There are a number of secure locations they may have taken him to. So we shall hit the White House and flush him out!” The brute punched a fist into a hand.

The brunette knife-wielder nodded enthusiastically. The Rocket-Man who had spoken and one of his fellows shared an uneasy glance though their visors. Fanatical devotion to duty sometimes overwhelmed good sense in their commanders. But the fact remained; they couldn’t leave without striking some sort of blow.

And of course there was the man they had hired. The Rocket-Men didn’t know exactly what he would do any more than their immediate superiors did; just that it would be....messy. The Empress knew, and she approved, and in the end that was good enough for them.

-12-

President Badnarik was still crouched down.....in the White House basement.

As anticipated, they had killed his decoy; a man already under death sentence as a spree killer. Badnarik’s qualms about using such a man in that fashion were weak enough that he did not voice them aloud to anyone. There were relatively few laws in the States these days, and he was one of those who had made it so; if you broke one of those few, you had no one to blame but yourself.

No; his main concern was the fact that they were still in the White House at all; there were other, more secure locations. It was a risk he was not entirely comfortable with.

But they would be safe down here, unless the assailants used gas; and so far there had been no sign of that.

One of the secret-service men put his hand to his earpiece. “Sir, the second wave has commenced; the metahuman attack has begun.”

“Are the countermeasures in place?” Badnarik asked. He had been unsure, not of the Titans’ intentions, but of whether they would come at all. He thought they would rather remain on the front lines.

The agent smiled thinly. “Oh yes, sir.”

-13-

The brute, the knife-wielding telekinetic, and the three Rocket-Men had abandoned all attempts at subtlety and erupted from the sewer system on 15th Street North West, and charged towards the White House.

If Joseph and Terra’s team had been in CIA Headquarters at Langley when the Markovians had struck, it was indeed possible that the Markovians might have found the President before they arrived. Of course, they were much closer than that.

They were, however, behind the Markovians and struggling to catch up. Deriven could have teleported them, but that risked nausea, disorientation, and vulnerability, at least without preparing hexes and ritual circles beforehand. But there was an easier way. He reached out with a languid gesture, and suddenly the Markovians were slowed in their pace.

They clearly felt it. They turned, slowly, and the knife-wielder thrust a slow-motion hand at Deriven. Her telekinetic thrust connected and sent him tumbling back, breaking the spell.

The brute focused on Terra; killing the traitor would be even better than killing the President. But as he focused on her, preparing to blast her with his psychic power of hate and rage, Joseph intervened, staring into his eyes.

Contact.

The brute stumbled backwards, screaming, as Joseph invaded his mind. Terra hurled a rock barrage at the knife-wielder, who deflected it with her telekinetic powers. She retaliated by throwing three knives at Terra. Perfectly-balanced knives they were, and coated with poison. Terra blocked with a rock wall, then opened the ground beneath the knife-wielder’s feet. She screamed as she fell.

As the brute stumbled around blindly, screaming, the three Rocket-Men knew they could not flee, deep in American territory as they were. If the Titans didn’t get them, the Americans would. So two of them fired missiles at the Titans. Green Lantern’s shields blocked the missiles and caused them to waste their explosive power; Supergirl’s heat vision and Argent’s shards of silver energy took them out.

The last Rocket-Man deliberately self-destructed, igniting his rocket pack and missiles in a blossom of gas and flame. it took both Lantern’s ringpower and Deriven’s magic to block the flameburst from doing any real harm.

Joseph had the brute under control, and all seemed over...when Deriven felt a threat of disquiet through the aether. “There is another danger elsewhere!” he shouted, and reluctantly teleported himself towards it.

-14-

The American man who had sold out to the Markovians was quietly walking along under the early sun, and had almost reached his destination.

Through his radio earpiece he had heard nothing of the first attack, but the media was all over the second. The fact that the second attack had even been necessary had proven that the first one had failed.

Not that it would have mattered; his appointed task would have happened regardless.

The President would not be the only one to die today.

The man approached McMillan Reservoir, and casually lifted his briefcase. Stepping behind a house, he carefully dialed in the combination and undid the locks, first the right, then the left, then touched the hidden button on the bottom.

Inside there was a thick glass vial with an ominous purple fluid inside it. The man worked in a chemical weapons lab. The US Government itself wasn’t running it or buying from it, but there were plenty of buyers....and in these times, America was the closest thing there was to a neutral country; a safe haven.

Though his own actions would help put paid to that; which was one of the reasons why he was doing it.

Gingerly, he lifted the heavy glass vial, and moved to the water’s edge. Slowly, gingerly, he began to turn the top,

Deriven materialized silently behind him, but staggered a bit and made noise on the grass.

To his credit, the man didn’t turn, whirl, shout, or ask questions. He just focused on opening the vial.

So Deriven focused his mind and will and muttered an incantation of frost and cold, twitching his fingers.

And impossibly, the vial and the man’s hands were encased in a chunk of ice.

Now the man screamed, but it was more a scream of frustration and pain. “Have you any idea what you’ve done!?”

“Yes; I’ve stopped you,” Dervien said, relieved; that was closer than it should have been. “Now, sleep.”

The man crumpled soundlessly at the water’s edge, the deadly vial still half-closed and encased in ice.

-15-

Six hours later, in DC’s subway system, they stood by the rails, waiting for the train that would take the Titans away.

“I take it you will invade the scientist’s mind?” Deriven asked.

“Not necessary; meticulous in some ways, the fool had his identity on him,” Joseph said. “Insofar as mental invasion was necessary at all, the brute’s mind provided what was needed.”

“Would that I could do something about your powers,” Deriven sighed. “But, such is life.”

Joseph smiled thinly and did not press the matter further.

“Do you want to spend time with your brothers?” Terra asked Rose.

“Not really,” Rose sighed. “Only to say, hasn’t been pleasant, but it was a good thing to do. Not in a hurry to see you boys again.”

“Probably we will have to,” said Grant. “Sooner or later. The President sends his thanks, by the way.”

“He’s welcome,” Terra said. A personal meeting was neither expected nor asked for; even Robin and Anarky would be glad to leave the country for a while after this.”

They got on the train to Gotham without further discussion.

“So,” Anarky said as they settled into the private car that had been arranged, “Brothers?”

“Half-brothers,” Rose sighed. “Dad had them before he left the US Military. Don’t ask me for anything else; not now. I might tell Terra more....later.”

And with that, they had to be content.

-16-

The brothers walked out onto the Washington Mall.

“We owe them, you know,” Grant said after a while.

“I’m sure the President is aware of that,” Joseph sighed.

“I don’t just mean the President. I mean us, personally.”

“Well like she said, let’s hope there’s no need for her to collect on that debt.”

“Chance would be a fine thing,” Grant said.

They went their separate ways. There was much to do.

-17-

As for President Badnarik, the attack had the ironic effect of virtually guaranteeing him a second term if he wanted it.

He still wasn’t sure he did, but with the Markovian threat looming ever larger, he had a strong feeling he might have no real choice in the matter.

Badnarik would almost certainly have to see this crisis through to its end, whatever form it might take. They had to be ready. And for certain, one way or another, the Titans wold be involved again.

So he returned to the Oval Office. They had already cleaned up the blood and replaced the carpet.

He sat down in his chair and got back to work.



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