Post by Admin on Sept 10, 2010 21:24:04 GMT -5
Justice League Legacies
An Earth-2 Title!
Issue #1: “Cosmic Crisis, Part One: The Hellstone”
Story and Art by Boris Mihajlovic
Written by David Charlton
Edited by Brian Burchette
An Earth-2 Title!
Issue #1: “Cosmic Crisis, Part One: The Hellstone”
Story and Art by Boris Mihajlovic
Written by David Charlton
Edited by Brian Burchette
Roll Call
Superman: Jonathan Kent, reporter for the Daily Star, son of the retired Clark and Lois Kent, and as Jon-El, inheritor of the legacy of the Man of Steel!
Wonder Woman: Supermodel Lyta Trevor, warrior-princess of a god-ravaged Paradise Island, doomed to never know love--- or lose the mantle of Wonder Woman!
Green Lantern: Kyle Rayner, family man, heir to the missing Hal Jordan’s power ring, and the last Green Lantern in the universe!
Flash: Carrie Allen, the Fastest Woman Alive and STAR Labs research scientist!
Green Arrow: Connor Hawke, enlightened CEO of Queen Enterprises and modern-day Longbow Hunter of the Urban Jungles!
Firestorm: Bored heiress Lorraine Reilly and her godfather Dr. Martin Stein come together to form the Nuclear Woman!
Resurrection Man: Mitch Shelley, chief strategist and leader of the JLA!
“Kent! Get in here, now!”
The mild-mannered reporter flinched at the outburst, and with an apologetic smile for the colleague he was chatting with, hurried into the office of his editor.
James Olsen, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Star was holding up the front page of--- not his own newspaper (which might have explained his foul mood)--- but that of the Metropolis Chronicle, their crosstown rival.
“Do you see this headline, Kent?” The cigar in Olsen’s mouth was chewed almost to the nub.
Jonathan Samuel Kent squinted through his horn-rimmed glasses: “Shake-up at LexCorp: Lena Luthor Fights for Her Father’s Empire!” he read. “Yesterday, the Board of Directors was stunned to discover that a majority share of the missing multi-billionaire’s company was quietly bought up by his hitherto unknown daughter Lena Luthor, 24, in an aggressive move to seize control of the world’s most---.”
“Enough!” Olsen growled.
Jon Kent’s mouth snapped shut.
“Isn’t this your beat, Kent?” Asked the editor, in mock uncertainty.
“Yes, chief.”
“Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell me how you got scooped on a story this big…” Olsen’s face was turning a dangerous shade of red.
Well, Jon Kent thought, maybe it had something to do with the fact that I spent most of the day yesterday fighting the Galactic Golem in the orbit of Jupiter… But what he said was, “I was at City Hall yesterday, chief, where you sent me to cover the mayor’s---.”
“Great Caesar’s Ghost!” Olsen threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to learn to adapt, Kent, to think on your feet. Your sainted mother had a nose for news unlike any reporter this paper ever had---.”
“Ma’s still alive, sir, she sends her love---.”
“And your father had the uncanny knack of blundering into it,” Olsen went on, ignoring him, “But together they helped to make this a great Metropolitan newspaper for my predecessor Perry White, God rest his soul, when this was still the Daily Planet,”
Jon nodded and looked abashed. He felt ‘the lecture’ coming on.
“Your parents were my good friends, Kent, and taught me a lot about this business. That’s why I want to help you, take you under my wing, make you my star Star reporter! You’ve got a lot of potential; you see angles others miss, and you’re certainly reliable, but you have to develop that nose for news, and trust your instincts…”
A small device like a pager vibrated from Jon’s inside coat pocket; he glanced at it, his JLA signal device. There was an emergency. He had to go.
Olsen had turned to the window and was declaiming to the famed Metropolis skyline, “Why, I remember a time once when Lois had locked herself in a melting down reactor just to get a story, knowing that Superman would---.”
“I’ve gotta go, chief!” Jon, held up his signal device as if it were a cell-phone and he had just received a tip. “Big story developing as we speak! Front page news tomorrow! Hold the presses!”
But if Jimmy heard, he gave no indication; he rambled on to the window as Jon backed out of his office.
The halls of the Star were crowded, but Jonathan Kent navigated them with an old familiarity; he’d practically grown up here. He was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt even before he ducked into the little-used storeroom, chosen for the upper-storey window.
In seconds, Superman was flying across the skies of Metropolis.
The boardroom of Queen Enterprises was on the top floor of the tallest building in Star City, with an enormous curved window affording the occupants a magnificent view of the skyline. It would be very easy for someone looking out on that view to feel like a god.
The board was meeting to discuss first quarter earnings, but they didn’t sit around a large obsidian table, shuffle papers or attend to a PowerPoint presentation. No. The CEO had instructed them to leave their jackets, ties and shoes at the door, and sit cross-legged on the mats that were the only objects in the room. Some of them obliged their eccentric boss a little hesitantly, but most of them had been around awhile, and were used to this sort of thing. Some of them, actually looked forward to it, and why not: hadn’t Connor Hawke taken Queen Enterprises to the top, with a stock price that was the safest bet on the Street? And given the company’s philanthropic initiatives, consumer confidence and corporate reputation had never been better. So, if the Old Man’s son wanted to sit in a circle and meditate, no one could see any harm in indulging him…
Connor Hawke sat with his back to the window, his eyes closed, and his hands palms-up on the knees of his crossed-legs; the look on his bronzed, unlined face was one of pure serenity. One of his officers sneaked a peak at him, then at his watch, and wondered how long this was going to go on.
Abruptly, Connor opened his eyes, reached into his robe and checked a small handheld device. Without much ado at all he announced: “I’m sorry, gentleman and ladies, but something has come up. This meeting is adjourned until tomorrow morning.”
With a bland smile, he watched them rise from the mats (some more stiffly than others), collect their jackets, ties and shoes and file from the room. When they were gone, Connor unfolded himself and walked purposefully towards the room’s only ornament, a large portrait of his father, and the founder of Queen Enterprises, Oliver Queen.
“What have we got, Mitch?” Connor spoke into his JLA signal device.
“Attempted break-in at the metahuman detainment facility at Belle Reve, Louisiana.” Came the voice of the League’s current chairman and chief strategist, Mitchell Shelley, the Resurrection Man. “The Flash is already there, but she has her hands full; the rest of us are en route. I’m sending Jon to pick you up; he should be there any second.”
Connor spared a lingering glance for his father, smiling beneficently down on him, then he grasped the edge of the portrait and swung it wide. A compartment of special equipment slid silently forward. Connor retrieved the well-worn green bow that had belonged Oliver Queen, and the quiver of arrows, many of which he had modified himself. They had come to him not long after his father had gone missing in action, all those years ago…
Within moments, he was tying the green mask over his face, and Superman was tapping at the glass window.
Belle Reve was a cinder block dropped down into the middle of the bayou, and right now it was the site of a battle.
In the prison yard, guards lay strewn amid the wreckage of towers and walls. An overturned jeep was on fire, and an unmanned hose was flooding the ground with murky water. Splashing through it, an armed squad rushed at a man in armor, a visored helm on his head crackling with power. Above them, a woman with razor-sharp silver wings soared, singing down sonic blasts at the cell-blocks and easily dodging gunfire.
Prometheus, the armored man, sent a handful of concussion pellets at his attackers, sending them scattering behind a wall of blossoming fire. But a red and yellow streak evaded the explosions, and got within the villain’s defenses. The Flash landed ten blows on him before he even realized she was there. Staggering backward, he recovered quickly, lashing out with his high-tech tonfa, the Nightstick, catching the Flash a glancing blow.
“Give it up, Prometheus,” the daughter of Barry Allen snarled, pulling herself up from the ground, and wiping a thin trickle of blood from her lip. “The only way you’re getting inside here is in an orange jumpsuit!”
From beneath his helmet, Prometheus’ lip curled in derision. He twirled his Nightstick, adjusted something on his helmet and assumed a fighting stance. “I’m ready for you now, speedster,” with one finger, he beckoned her onward. “Let’s play.”
Flash charged him, intending to veer at the last minute, circle around and take him from behind--- but she didn’t notice the waves of distorted space that throbbed around him until the last nanosecond, and by then it was too late: she was immobilized, caught like a fly in a spider-web, and Prometheus was able to seize her by the throat!
“Did you really think you were a match for me, girlie?” He squeezed and Flash pried at the hand around her neck, to no avail. Her eyes grew wide as her breath was strangled from her body. “I studied all of you so-called superheroes, and I know how to defeat you all! My helm emits a pulse that nullifies the Speedforce within a radius of five feet. You walked--- no, ran!--- right into my trap!”
Above, the Silver Swan gave a cry of warning. Green Lantern and Firestorm were coming in, fast! She dived to intercept, but recoiled against Green Lantern’s force-field.
Prometheus heaved Flash into the air, throwing her straight at her teammates. Green Lantern pulled up short to catch her, but Firestorm came on. Which was just what Prometheus wanted. He hurled his Nightstick at her, and it hit her like a concussion grenade, sending the Nuclear Woman careening out of the sky. She slammed against the prison wall, and crashed to the ground. Something in the Nightstick had triggered her transformation, and laying there now were two bodies: the dazed and disoriented Lorraine Reilly, and the aged and frail Dr. Martin Stein.
Seeing their vulnerability, Silver Swan cackled in glee and dove in for the kill, the tips and edges of her wings gleaming.
The cybernetically-enhanced villainess was abruptly yanked backward, and pulled down out of the sky, a length of golden lasso looped around her mid-section. At the other end of the rope stood a golden-haired fury in white, gold and red armor.
“Stay away from them, Vanessa!” said the newly arrived Wonder Woman in a clear voice. “You’re not a killer! Fight the implants! You don’t have to do this…!”
Silver Swan sank to her knees in the flooding prison yard, her hands over her ears as if trying to block out voices in her head. Half of her face had been replaced with chromium and circuitry, but the human half seemed tormented. When she lifted her head again, her photo-electric eye pulsed red and she unleashed a torrent of sonic destruction at Wonder Woman.
Green Lantern barely had time to see if Flash was okay; as he set her down, she choked and shoved him away saying, “Take him down, Kyle.”
Kyle Rayner needed no further incentive. His ring spurting emerald fury, he turned on Prometheus, who had by this time retrieved his Nightstick, and launched himself at his foes.
A burst of willpower sent the villain sailing backward, bouncing on the ground and demolishing the jeep he hit. Floating over to him, Kyle constructed a pair of green glowing manacles. “This is over, Prometheus. Right now.”
Embedded in the wreckage of the jeep, the villain’s lips spread in a bloody-mouthed grin. “No, it’s not.” And lights flared on his helmet, from all sides, blinking in a seemingly random pattern, a flurry of colors that blended together in a mesmerizing swirl. Kyle hovered in the air before him, still and transfixed by the lights. “I’ve got you hypnotized, Green Lantern. Your will is mine now, and I think you want to kill the Flash!”
Slowly, Kyle Rayner turned around, his eyes vacant--- and he flew directly at the stunned Flash!
Prometheus pulled himself to his feet, laughing uproariously. Across the yard, Silver Swan was buffeting Wonder Woman with sonic blasts, driving the Amazon princess to her knees, Green Lantern was aiming blast after blast of emerald willpower at the still-dazed Flash, and on the other side of the yard, the remaining prison guards were rallying to charge Prometheus again.
“Keep away!” A calm, strident voice called from the top of the crumbling prison wall. Prometheus looked up just in time to see the green and brown clad archer pull back on his bow, a gleaming arrow-tip aimed straight at him. “The JLA will take care of him!”
The shaft sliced through the air and ricocheted off the villain’s helmet, much to his amusement. But Green Arrow had not meant the attack as anything more than a momentary distraction: Superman angled in from Prometheus’ blind-side, strafing him with a two-handed blow that sent Prometheus spinning like a top and crashing head over heels. The Man of Steel looped up and came down, facing the groaning Prometheus, just as Green Arrow shot a rope-arrow into a far wall, and slid down on his bow into the yard, tackling Silver Swan and giving Wonder Woman a moment to recover.
“Stay down,” Superman advised, advancing unafraid on his foe. “If I have to hit you again, you won’t be able to get back up.”
“You think I wasn’t ready for you?” Prometheus sneered, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet and pulling off the glove on his right hand. “Did you think I was that stupid?” From the ring on his fist came the sickly green glow of Kryptonite.
As the waves of nausea washed over him, Superman sank to his knees, catching the wet ground with his palms before he hit it, face first.
“One of the last pieces of Earth, and I have it!” The villain gloated, splashing towards the weakened Man of Steel. “You wouldn’t believe what my benefactor paid for it on the Black Market---.”
Prometheus came to an abrupt and unintended stop. He was within feet of his fallen foe, but just out of striking distance… and somehow he could go no further. He strained forward with all his might, veins standing out on his neck and arms, but some unseen force held him immobile!
“Did you think we’d let you hurt Superman?”
The villain whirled in place at the droll voice, and was confronted with a living shadow, a being of pure darkness, and he was standing on Prometheus own shadow, pinning him in place.
“You may think you have a plan to defeat every member of the Justice League, Prometheus,” said the thing of darkness that was Mitch Shelley, the Resurrection Man, “But there’s no way you can plan for me. I can have a different power every day. All I need do is die.”
The villain was not ready to give up yet. “Let’s see what you come up with next, then,” He jabbed a button on his helmet, and from it came a high-intensity flash of light that bathed the entire prison yard in a retina-burning whiteness. The Resurrection Man vanished in the flare, only the echo of his scream lingering, and all around people staggered, blinded.
For a moment, it seemed as if Prometheus had won. He alone could see, and if he could see, he could slaughter them before they knew what was happening.
But Connor Hawke didn’t need to see to strike at Prometheus.
The skin around his eyes red and seared, Connor Hawke nevertheless found a center of tranquility within himself; relying on the subtlest clues from every other sense he had, he chose a specific arrow by touch, raised his bow and fired at Prometheus.
The villain was rearing over Superman, poised to deliver a Kryptonite-fueled hammerblow when the shaft struck his helmet. Utterly unprepared for this physical assault, the blunt-tipped arrow smashed into the side of Prometheus’ head, releasing an electrical charge strong enough to short out any circuitry!
Prometheus reeled. Green Arrow had taken his deadliest weapon out of play, and now the archer was reaching for another shaft, his head cocked to find his foe. Nor was that the worst news: with the helmet shorted-out, Green Lantern was coming to his senses, and in a moment he and the Flash would be on him as well!
With an inarticulate scream of rage, Prometheus produced a large, unusually-shaped key from his belt--- and in a blink, he was gone! He appeared a second later, at the side of Silver Swan--- who was as disoriented as the JLA--- and gathering his partner-in-crime to his side, they both vanished!
And just like that, the fight was over. A naked Resurrection Man walked non-chalantly among them, his skin bronzed, gleaming and brand new. He helped a still-weak Superman to his feet, as Flash went over to check on Martin Stein and Lorraine Reilly.
“Well, that was messy,” Green Lantern mused floating down to the prison yard and rubbing his graying temples as if to exorcise the vestiges of Prometheus’ hypnotic compulsion.
“They were well prepared for us, Gods damn them,” Wonder Woman said, and her fingers seemed to ache for a neck to throttle. “If it had been for Connor…”
“Nice shot,” Superman smiled weakly at the archer, his admiration and gratitude speaking for them all.
The soul of humility, Green Arrow merely nodded, head down and still blind.
“What I want to know is what this was all about,” Resurrection Man’s brow was furrowed. “What were they after? What did they gain by this break-in? And what did Prometheus mean about his ‘benefactor? But before we can begin to answer these questions, we have wounded to attend to.” Flash and a limping Lorraine Reilly were leading a barely conscious Martin Stein between them. Resurrection Man had Superman’s signal device and was keying a sequence into it. “Watchtower, emergency Zeta Beam transport, on my mark.” The others moved in close around him, as the stunned and shell-shocked prison-guards began leaving the safety of their cover. “Mark.”
A moment later, a beam of light slashed down from out of the sky, bathing the JLA in its amber glow; their forms elongated as if they were caught in a tornado--- and in the next moment, they were gone!
Lorraine Reilly stood by the bedside of her godfather Dr. Martin Stein, clutching his feeble hand as he slept. The state-of-the-art instruments that monitored him--- breathing, heartbeat, blood pressure, brain activity--- told a sad tale: he was fading slowly, but surely. Tears formed in her eyes. She did not want to contemplate life without him. Her own father was not more beloved. It was Dr. Stein who had always been there for her, taking her under his wing her first year at Ivy Town U, making her first his assistant, and then his partner--- turning her into one of the greatest astrophysicists on the planet, not to mention (after the discovery of the Firestorm Matrix) one of the most powerful entities in the universe.
“We’re loosing him,” Her voice was raw and thick.
Behind, her Wonder Woman stood with Resurrection Man, shaking her head. The Amazon Princess fairly quivered with tightly contained anger. “I don’t understand. Firestorm has taken much worse beatings than this. What happened?”
“Prometheus’ Nightstick.” answered Mitch Shelley, as he lay a consoling hand on Lorraine’s shoulder. “Apparently, he’s added some enhancements to it. Probably something to do with his mysterious benefactor.”
Wonder Woman made a small sound of disgust. “As if he wasn’t dangerous enough already… Did Waller ever get back to you on what they were after?”
“If she knows, she’s not sharing. I think she wants me to believe they were staging a general breakout.”
“But you don’t buy that.”
“No. I don’t buy it. There’s something deeper going on here.”
The Resurrection Man fell into silent contemplation. Unable to stand in one place anymore without hitting something, Wonder Woman turn and stalked from the Hospital Wing.
A cold fury was upon her. The League had been trounced badly, and she was aching for a rematch. Though her father was a mortal, Lyta had been raised on Paradise Island amongst her mother’s people, immortal warriors who had challenged the very gods of Olympus. It galled Lyta that Prometheus and Silver Swan had gotten the best of them in combat.
Watchtower techs and crewmen made way for her as she passed. She always elicited stares, being a six-foot tall blonde of statuesque proportions in revealing armor. She made her living in Man’s World as a model, a supermodel, naturally. Magazine covers that displayed her classically gorgeous alabaster and cream face--- just the right combination of softness and haughty sensuality--- acclaimed her the Most Beautiful Woman in the World. But these stares she received now were different. Her icy blue eyes blazed. An Amazon roused was a dangerous thing.
She intended to spend an hour in the Combat Simulation Room, a holographic training facility designed byJ’onn J’onzz before he left with the joint NASA/STAR Labs team to terraform Mars. Maybe if she pulverized something, she would feel better.
But the CSR wasn’t empty. Green Arrow was already there; he had conjured a tropical beach, and stood on a lapping shore, completely still and silent. He held his bow lightly before him, undrawn.
She studied him for a moment. He was an enigma to her, this quiet, unassuming and peaceful man. New to the League herself, many of them puzzled her, but none more than he: his relentless crusade against crime and corruption seemed at odds with his serenity and desire for peace.
“Hello, Princess.”
This caught her by surprise. She knew his vision had not yet returned, but he cocked his head towards her, a half smile playing on his lips.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Sight is the most unreliable of senses,” he told her. “It’s important to get to know someone more profoundly than by sight. You have a distinctive length of stride and rhythm of step. I can smell the oil in your armor, and the lilac lotion on your skin…” He let his words trail off, as if suddenly thinking better of them.
Lyta was taken aback. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the way he said it. She had never met anyone with quite his naked sincerity. For the moment, she forgot her anger.
“What are you doing?”
“Training myself.” He told her. “In case my sight doesn’t return.”
“Is it that bad?” she was appalled.
He only nodded, listening to the sound of birds chirping, insects buzzing, and the waves lapping at the shoreline.
She felt like she should say something, give him some reassurances. But she didn’t know how to do that. She wasn’t built that way. She dare not allow herself the luxuries of compassion and empathy. She had a duty to perform, a god-given responsibility to bear the mantle of Wonder Woman. Nothing could make her jeopardize that honor. Nor could she forget Athena’s Curse.
Without saying a word, she turned to go. He called out to her, and she turned, just in time to see the steel-tipped arrow arcing toward her! At the last moment, she flung up her arm, and the arrow ricocheted off her silver bracelet, striking sparks.
“Are you mad?” she raged back at him, one hand going to the lasso at her hip.
But Connor Hawke merely stood in the same place, with the same half-smile. Lowering his bow, he gave a small shrug. “I knew you’d deflect it. Would you stay? I could use your help…”
There was something playful in his voice, and Lyta’s sudden flare-up of anger melted away just as quickly. She was surprised to find she was even smiling.
“Please. I was trained by the best warriors on the planet, do you really think---.” She had to stop talking and throw up her arms to deflect the two incoming shafts, launched faster than she thought possible. Connor’s maddening smile did not fade, goading her.
She took to the air, and he lifted his head, following the snap and billowing of her cape. Another arrow came slicing towards her, but she dodged it this time, looping out over the holographic beach behind him. He turned, as she twirled her lasso over her head, then flung it out. It nearly roped him, but with a supreme economy of motion, he ducked and rolled out of the way, coming out with an arrow nocked to his bow. He let fly almost in the same instant.
The arrow trailed a thin polymer line, and as it impacted with Lyta’s bracelet, the head of it burst open into a net which enveloped her. Connor’s quick, firm tug pulled his momentarily stunned prize out of the sky, and he pounced on her.
The two rolled on the beach, quiver and arrows spilling in all directions. It was a small matter for Lyta to shred the netting that bound her, and she ended up on top, straddling his body and pinning him to the sand with his own bow.
“Not smart, archer,” she smirked down at him. “Never engage an Amazon in close combat. Now I’ve got you right where I want you.”
Though his eyes were closed, Connor arched an eyebrow, reminding Lyta of a picture she had seen of this man’s father.
“Or is it the other way around?” he chided gently.
Lyta was saved the embarrassment of responding by the sound of Superman’s voice on the public address system: “General Alert. All available Leaguers please report to the Monitor Room. Repeat, all available Leaguers…”
*******
“Is it Prometheus again?” Wonder Woman burst into the Monitor Room, with Green Arrow hot on her heels. Superman and Resurrection Man were already there, the former seated at a bank of monitors that stretched the height of the room.
The Monitor Room was a large, magnificent chamber, covered with a transparent dome that afforded them not only a panoramic view of the lunar landscape, but of the Earth looming huge in the distance.
“No,” Resurrection Man told them, waving her to silence.
Lorraine entered from a different door, her eyes red, but her cheeks dry.
Flash and Green Lantern were on Earth, the monitor board reported, and engaged with other business.
“Go ahead, Katar. We’re listening.” Said Superman.
On the foremost screen was a familiar face, iron gray hair and hawk-sharp eyes. Once he had been a Thangarian cop, and the JLAer known as Hawkman. Now he was comfortably retired in Midway City, and was talking to them from the comfort of his well-appointed study, medieval and ancient weapons hanging on racks behind him.
“A few minutes ago I got a call from an old colleague named Horace Halley,” Katar Hol’s voice was steady, but they was an undercurrent of unease. “He’s the world’s foremost scholar on xenozoic studies---.”
“Wait, what?” Lorraine asked wearily.
“There’s a field of study that believes that Earth was visited by a number of highly advanced extraterrestrial civilizations, before the dawn of recorded history,” Katar backtracked with an ironic expression. “I’m no expert, but there are certainly records of Thanagarian expeditions to the Sol System that go back thousands of years, so there is something to it.”
“Dad says early Kryptonian astronauts may have visited Earth as well, before Krypton became an isolationist society and abandoned space travel,” Superman added.
“Well, Professor Halley has done more to increase our awareness of this phenomenon than just about anybody,” Katar went on. “Presently he is in Antarctica, near Mt. Erebus on the Danforth Ice-shelf, and he’s uncovered something very unusual.” He paused, as if unsure what to make of the whole thing himself. “While collecting ice-core samples, his expedition found a stele buried in the ice. It’s made of iron ore, and must be millions of years old.”
Before Lorraine could ask “What’s a stele?” Lyta whispered to her: “It’s like an obelisk; usually carved.”
“That is unusual,” Mitch mused. “Are there any markings?”
“Yes, and this is the strangest part.” Katar admitted. “It is engraved with grotesque images, and there seems to be a script which Professor Halley can translate. There are references to Kornugia.”
He let the word drop portentously, but none of them seemed to recognize the significance of it.
“That word has surfaced in the mythologies of cultures across the globe, from ancient Babylon, to the remotest islands in the south Pacific. And always with sinister connotations.”
“It does sound vaguely familiar,” Superman frowned. After a moment, his eyes grew wide and a confused expression came over him. “I remember now, from the Kryptonian Memory Crystals at the Fortress: Kornugia was thought to be a place of torment for the dead. But it was a primitive concept, long discredited---.”
“Thanagar had a Kornugia, too.” Katar looked disconcerted at Jon-El’s recollection. “It was the dwelling place of the Seven Devils. It appears to be some kind of ‘proto-hell’ shared by all humanoid life-forms in the cosmos.”
There was a chilling moment of silence as that sunk in.
It was the Resurrection Man who broke the silence. “So what does it say, then? The rest of the stele?”
“I don’t know,” Katar looked more worried than ever. “I lost communication with Horace before he could tell me. The weather down there wreaks havoc with satellite phones. But I thought the League should know about this.”
“You did the right thing, Katar,” Mitch said. “The League will investigate immediately.”
The tightness on Katar’s face eased a little. “It may be nothing. A scholarly mystery lost to time. But I feel better knowing someone is looking into it. Give Professor Halley my regards.”
“And give Shayera ours,” Mitch reached over to the disconnect. “Watchtower out.”
*******
With Dr. Stein on his deathbed, Firestorm was out of commission, so they left Lorraine on monitor duty with Green Arrow, and Superman, Wonder Woman and Resurrection Man Zeta-Beamed down to Antarctica.
The Pabodie Research Facility was the only structure on the Danforth Ice-shelf, and thus could be seen from miles in all directions--- that is, if one could see in the night, and through the swirling eddies of snow.
And Superman, at least, could. He flew into the sub-zero gusts, carrying Mitch who was wrapped in protective, fur-lined clothing, Wonder Woman coming up behind, as undaunted by the elements as her half-Kryptonian teammate. They followed the blinking beacon-lights to the collection of rounded, reinforced steel huts, relieved to see a figure waving them in.
They landed before the largest of the huts, and the man ushered them through a series of doors. Only when they were safely inside did he remove his goggles and pull down his hood.
“Thank god you’re here,” said the man, a wild-eyed expression on his bearded face. “I’m going to need emergency transport back to civilization. I’ve got to get back to my university and confirm my findings---.”
“Professor Horace Halley, I presume?” The Resurrection Man pulled down his own hood, shaking out his unruly, colorless hair.
“Yes, yes,” The man nodded impatiently, then headed off down the hall towards the inner door, motioning for them to follow.
“Sir, where is the rest of your team?” Superman spoke up in alarm, having already scanned the buildings with his x-ray vision.
“Gone! Days ago.” Halley told them, pulling open the door, and escorting them into a brightly lit, but shabby laboratory. “Oh, they’re fine,” he waved away Superman’s look of concern. “They left on the ship that brought us here, shortly after we found the Kornugia Stone. They were terrified of it. Could not understand how such a thing could possible be where we found it, buried beneath the primeval ice. And then when I told them what was written on it…” He barked a harsh laugh. “Well, let’s just say the human mind is not equipped to deal with some concepts.”
The three Leaguers shared a look of apprehension.
“Where is this thing, Professor?” Wonder Woman demanded, striding confidently into the lab. But she stopped short as she spotted the object on the work-table. To say the thing was vile and repugnant was faint description at best. It was the size of a gravestone, and the color of rust-red iron, pocked with incalculable age. Carved in relief upon its face were images of such rampant and otherworldly obscenity that Wonder Woman, who had never suspected such profanities were possible, gasped aloud and turned away in disgust.
“Great Rao…” Superman’s lip curled in disgust, and he too looked away.
Only Mitchell Shelley regarded the thing with calm dispassion. He approached it carefully, however, walking around the table to view it from all angles, studying the carvings and inscriptions.
Professor Halley watched the Resurrection Man with a measuring look, his lower jaw working.
“What language is this?” Mitch asked, his brow furrowing as he bent closer to examine the Kornugia Stone. “This is no alphabet I’m aware of…”
Professor Halley snorted. “No doubt. I’d be more surprised if you were. Those are elaborate pictograms, similar to those developed by the Sumerians in 3400 B.C.E., though far more sophisticated. The Annals of Lemuria are said to be written entirely in this form, though I’ve never seen them.”
“What do they say?”
A dark look passed over the professor’s face. “Don’t ask if you really don’t want to know.”
Mitch just stared back at him, waiting. Then the professor closed his eyes, and began to recite from memory:
When eternal forces, twins in might, wake to rive the stars of life,
Sup of war and drink in light, all that is will drown in strife.
No child born but dies in pain, no kindness done, or sin forbade,
Chaos, carnage and madness reign, an age of ruin, no violence stayed.
One a destroyer, a titan of dread, bred for battle, fire and plunder
Bathed in blood, by slaughter fed, to tear the universe asunder.
One a deceiver, a father of lies, subtle of mind and foulness deep,
A mind corrupt, deadly and wise, a cleansing fire the Void to reap.
Across gulfs of madness vast, lost Kornugia, foretold, returns
Awaits the Key of Future Past, and all the cosmos weeping burns.
Sup of war and drink in light, all that is will drown in strife.
No child born but dies in pain, no kindness done, or sin forbade,
Chaos, carnage and madness reign, an age of ruin, no violence stayed.
One a destroyer, a titan of dread, bred for battle, fire and plunder
Bathed in blood, by slaughter fed, to tear the universe asunder.
One a deceiver, a father of lies, subtle of mind and foulness deep,
A mind corrupt, deadly and wise, a cleansing fire the Void to reap.
Across gulfs of madness vast, lost Kornugia, foretold, returns
Awaits the Key of Future Past, and all the cosmos weeping burns.
“There is more,” said Halley, his voice hoarse, as if the words hurt him as they were spoken. “But it is mostly untranslatable. Something about the ‘breaker of suns’ and a ‘womb of death, birthing carnage’…”
An appalled silence descended upon the lab, the only sound coming from the howling wind outside. Suddenly, each one of them felt alone and small, dwarfed by the vastness of a universe indifferent to their existence.
Professor Halley’s eyes were wide and bright, but there was a terror behind them that was reflected in their own as well.
Before any of them could speak, a column of inky-black smoke erupted in front of them, and out of it materialized a figure. She was tall and thin, and clad in billowing robes of deepest black and shimmering scarlet. On her forehead, at the point where her long ebony hair swept back, sat a small red jewel.
“Raven?” Superman gasped, surprised as anyone to see the former Titan.
The daughter of the interdimensional demon Trigon the Terrible stepped into the lab, and took it all in--- the Leaguers, the professor and the Kornugia Stone--- and turned back to them with a heavy-lidded glance, her finely sculpted eyebrows arching high.
“I have feared this moment all my life, have dared to hope it nothing but a myth, but this horror is real,” Her gaze lingered for a moment on the repulsive stele, then she turned back to them. “The Keystone of Kornugia has surfaced, and events are set in motion which none can stop. Now it is for me to play my part in the greatest drama of this cosmic age: and the Justice League must prepare itself, as well.”
“The League stands ready as always,” Resurrection Man declared, and both his teammates nodded decisively. “But Raven, what are we dealing with here?”
“An event foretold when the universe exploded from that first primal spark,” A shadow passed over the witch’s face. “Nothing less than the end of all that is…”
EPILOGUE
She came from Beyond.
Outside the borders of the expanding universe, She lurked, existing in the Void, and laying her plans. Her age was counted not in years, but in epochs, and in all that time She expanded her understanding, delving into cosmic mysteries that unraveled into only deeper mysteries, like an ever-twisting Mobius Strip.
A billion years ago She stirred from her contemplation, and manifested Herself into the universe. She dwelt first in the Outer Regions, spinning Her web across the most ancient galaxies. She consumed worlds and civilizations that had evolved to a state of sublime community with the universe, feeding on the essence of life itself. Her relentless advance across the cosmos was a march of pure annihilation. She was not unopposed. Some rose against Her, and word of Her coming spread terror and despair across the stars. But all fell before Her. She was Empress of a million dead worlds, Goddess of Cosmic Extinction.
She was the Lady Styx, and the time had come for Her to fulfill the cosmological imperative of Her destiny. The road to Kornugia lay open before Her…
TO BE CONTINUED!