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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:47:19 GMT -5
Deus Ex Machina #2 Chapter Two: Look On My Works, Ye Mighty [/b] Written by: Chaltab Cover by: Jamie Rimmer Edited by: Jay McIntyre
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:52:59 GMT -5
Metropolis
“This is jarringly similar to the thousand other alien invasions we've faced,” thought the Man of Steel. “But the implications of that can wait until later.”
He arced skyward, his fists clenched. The enormous mechanical monstrosity in the sky above Metropolis was releasing hundreds of small blue figures from compartments on its belly, and Superman studied them with telescopic vision well before he arrived. They were about the size of a human, maybe five and a half feet tall, and were covered in a shimmering blue energy. Their only distinguishing feature was a single red circle in the middle of their chests.
Superman swooped towards the nearest one, grabbing it by the shoulders. The energy was warm to his hands, but not so hot that he was forced to let go. And since nothing around him was melting from the combined presence of the creatures, the blue energy clearly wasn't hot enough to burn Kryptonian hands by itself. And given that it wasn't red solar energy, only one option remained: magic.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Superman demanded
The blue creature's head flashed. Superman used his X-Ray vision to try and see what was going on underneath the energy, but found his X-Rays reflected back into his own eyes, blinding him with a flash that would have been invisible to humans.
The creature spoke. “Self Designation – OMAC Unit. Offensive Modular Arcane Combat Unit.” Something whirred inside its head. Clark realized that the creatures were machines. “Target acquired: Subject Alpha—Kal-El. Codename: Superman. Terminate.”
The red dot on the OMAC Unit's chest erupted with energy and sent Superman sprawling backwards. He slammed into a Soder billboard, then hovered in front of it, trying to catch his breath. He felt drained. That beam, he thought, must have been the frequency of red sunlight. These things were dangerously well-versed in his weaknesses.
The OMAC flew closer, and Clark blasted it in the head with his heat vision. The attack bounced off the blue energy shielding, and another beam lanced out of the OMAC's chest. Clark dodged it, returning fire, this time aiming at a specific target—the red circle where the laser blast originated.
The beams tore into the OMAC, and a small explosion erupted from the inside. The shielding failed, vanishing and revealing a thin metallic frame, a skeleton of sorts, on the inside of the robot.
Clark would have examined it, but as soon as his attention left the robot trying to kill him, the sounds of OMACs terrorizing the city reached his ears. He swooped down into the chaos, taking one OMAC down as it tried to destroy a large SUV, then blasting another one in the chest as it hefted a truck towards a decaying apartment building. The truck fell short of the target, crushing the robot. A young man tumbled out, shaken up. Clark looked at his bones and saw that none were broken, a small blessing.
Likely the only one he'd receive today.
“Take cover!” he shouted, turning his attention to other OMACs. “They're all over the city.”
What Superman did not mention was the fact that all over Metropolis, he could hear news reports on radios and televisions.
Metropolis was not the only city being attacked.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:53:57 GMT -5
Gotham City
The Batwing soared through the red skies above the sprawling megalopolis, the Dark Knight at the helm. In the distant sky over neighboring Bludhaven, a second metal behemoth hovered over the buildings, unleashing a swarm of the blue machines. Many of them arced directly towards Gotham's industrial districts, attacking the pollution-spewing factories; others had begun blasting red energy beams from their chests into Wayne Tower.
Batman grimaced. Bruce Wayne had a lot of good employees in danger..
The Batwing swooped close to Wayne Tower, arcing around the building and unleashing a burst of machine gun fire from the Batwing's main guns. When he'd seen the reports of the attacks on television (which he had been watching thanks to the massive explosion over Gotham minutes earlier) he had recognized the beings the beings design: they were either made of or surrounded by energy. The rounds he was using had been specially designed by some of the League's finest scientists to pierce energy shielding.
The phasic rounds, as they were called, tore through the small machines easily, and Batman swerved, dodging through as many lasers as possible. But even the Batwing, advanced as it was, soon proved too cumbersome to pilot through the flurry of energy beams. A blast struck the left wing and rocked the plane hard to port. Batman put the plane into a nose-dive, launching explosive mines upward from the tail end. More machines shattered under the assault, but more beams struck the Batwing. It rocked violently, and Batman's head slammed into the roof of the plane. Batman fired his rear machine guns, but the return volley from the machines was fiercer still.
Batman was about to eject and cut his losses (he had already commissioned the construction of a better Batwing a few days ago) when a blast of red flaming energy slammed through several nearby creatures, the brightness causing the cockpit glass to dim. Batman glanced in the direction from which it originated to see the demon Etrigan standing on the roof of Wayne Tower, throwing his demonic flames at the robots.
“Etrigan,” Batman radioed over the general frequency JLU channel. “Thanks for the assist. I need to take care of the bogeys at the industrial parks.”
The gravely voice of Etrigan replied. “Understood, Dark Knight. Take care, take flight.”
Batman decided not to comment on the poor rhyme, instead opening the Batwing's throttle and heading towards his targets. He fired at more robots as he arrived, blasting them out of the sky with the phasic rounds and swooping close to the mass that had gathered around the factories. Smokestacks that had once belched smoke into the sky now stood as melted lumps on top of their respective buildings, sealed shut by the laser beams. Smoke was pouring out of the buildings' windows and doors, driving the factory workers out into the open.
Twin missiles designed by Mr. Terrific and Ray Palmer lanced out of the Batwing and into the cluster of robots, absorbing their energy 'skin' and then detonating, shattering the fragile metal endoskeletons underneath.
The radio crackled with static.
“Batman, it's Nightwing,” came the voice of Dick Grayson.
“Situation?” Batman asked, continuing to blast more robots out of the sky.
“As best I can tell, they're called OMACs and their primary purpose is to engage Metahumans in combat. I've got half the Outsiders helping out in Bludhaven and the rest scattered across the country as needed. This seems to be a global attack.”
“We can't spread ourselves too thin,” Batman said. “That's what the League is for. Concentrate on Bludhaven. I'm handling Gotham.”
“Batgirl and Flamebird are on the ground in Gotham. Apparently enough blunt force trauma can break the machine skeletons and disable these things. Nobody can raise Spoiler. Batgirl said she was babysitting today.”
“I need to concentrate, Nightwing. Batman out.” He switched the radio off.
Batman hated to kill the conversation in such a manner, but he needed to concentrate. And Nightwing knew he preferred for Spoiler to stay out of harm's way. He would have been happy if Flamebird hadn't gotten herself involved either. Cassandra was the only one with the skills to handle this crisis, in Batman's estimation.
And even then, it would likely end in all their deaths.
Batman realized that the OMACs, as Nightwing had called them, were a distraction from the true purposes of the metal behemoths. But without any points of reference, Batman could only guess at what that purpose was. All his theories were grim. But just speculation.
And they couldn't abandon the civilians to be slaughtered by the OMACs.
These thoughts tore through Batman's mind even as the Batwing tore through another group of the killing machines.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:54:52 GMT -5
Boston
Diana's heart had thumped within her chest when she saw the incredible hovering behemoth in the sky above her adopted hometown of Boston. She had never seen it before, but she instantly knew what it was, just as she had known what had appeared over Gotham and Metropolis.
Moreover, she knew who it was: Hyperion the Titan. father of the Dawn and of Helios, the sun. The Titan shone brightly, light pouring off his body and raining down on the city. It was tangible luminescence, solid particles that glowed with energy that illuminated without poisoning. And more lights—blue lights—flew out from Hyperion's belly. As the lights got larger, they became the clearly defined shape of humanoid androids—OMACs.
The OMAC creatures that had been attacking many of the world's greatest cities now surrounded Boston. Cars and other vehicles were their first targets, but it soon became clear to Diana, Themysciran ambassador to the United States, that she was their most important target.
That had been a few minutes ago. Now, Diana was surrounded. In a whirlwind, she transformed into her battle armor, assuming the mantle of Wonder Woman once again. She flew towards the OMACs, reflecting a flurry of energy beams with her god-forged bracelets and then retaliating, throwing her Amazon strength into a relentless blunt force assault against the energy shields, the blue magic forcefields around the OMACs.
Enough bludgeoning shattered the metal skeletons within the creatures and caused them to collapse and cease to operate.
Lasers slammed into Diana's side, and she cried out in pain, turning the direction the attack had come from and seeing another platoon of the hovering entities. She flew backwards, scooping up a manhole cover from a city street and hurling it at the OMACs. The metal disc bounced from robot to robot, warping. The OMACs kept coming.
Diana grimaced. She could beat them, damage them beyond functioning, but that took a lot of force, a lot of effort. And she wasn't Superman. Diana was mighty as Hercules, but she lacked the stamina of Atlas. Her true fighting strength lay in her skill in all forms of martial arts. She needed weapons, preferably weapons of the magic variety. The Amazonian embassy would have some, so Wonder Woman slowly wound through the streets, keeping the OMACs' attention on her and off civilians until she could storm inside and arm herself.
Even then, chaos was the order of the day.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:55:44 GMT -5
El Paso, Texas
More blue things! The Blue Beetle felt almost guilty as he tore through another platoon, betraying his own color like that. But these blue things were bad news, torching anything man made and retaliating against anyone who tried to stop them.
Jaime Reyes hadn't been the Blue Beetle for long, but he'd already dealt with some crazy threats. Blue energy-covered robots were tame compared to what he'd gotten used to fighting the alien Reach, a race of interstellar real-estate brokers who used their advanced technology to depopulate planets, then sell them to the highest bidder. “What's an O-MACK?” Jaime exclaimed, responding to the inner voice of the Scarab, the alien device bonded to his back. It was the Reach who had created the Scarab. Jaime was supposed to be on the Reach's side, but the Scarab had decided it liked him better than its old masters.
More of the OMACs started surrounding him, and the Scarab rattled of a list of options ranging in intensity from “Death Ray” to “Thermonuclear Explosion”....
Jaime opted for the former, the mechanical armor that encased his body morphing at the arms to create two energy cannons. Deadly violet beams lanced out of the canons and tore into the oscillating energy of the OMACS. The Scarab began counting off the kills as Jaime destroyed each one: it kind of reminded him of Legolas and Gimli's competition in the Lord of the Rings, to see who could kill the most Orcs.
The OMACs surrounding him went down, followed by others. Jaime was surprised by how effective his weapon was.
“What's that energy around them, anyway?” Jaime asked the Scarab. “It's not like radioactive, is it?”
He grimaced at the Scarab's reply.
“Magic? I hate magic.”
So did the Scarab.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:56:57 GMT -5
Earth Orbit
John Stewart had been running towards the JLU Watchtower teleporter. Now, not so much: his senses were being overwhelmed by pure green. He felt himself grow paralyzed, his vision blurring. His mind buzzed with chatter, and Ganthet, one of the Guardians of the Universe, appeared before him. Not the real Ganthet, of course, but a small green-hued facsimile, a hologram beamed directly into his senses by the power of his ring.
“Lantern 3841.1, John Stewart,” Ganthet said, his voice dripping with urgency. “You are needed immediately on Oa. This is an order, non-negotiable. Report immediately.”
John wasn't going to argue with a worried Guardian. The Guardians never worried. Most of them were pushing a million years of age; there was little they hadn't seen.
The real world slipped back into John's senses, and he saw Zatanna and Red Tornado standing in front of him, in the process of calling his name.
“Aren't you coming, John?” Zatanna raised a white-gloved hand and beckoned him with it.
“He seems to be in some sort of trance,” remarked Tornado, the android affectionately dubbed “Reddy” by those who knew him. He was in some ways more human than some of the flesh and blood members of the League. (And when people commented to that effect, they were without exception referring to Batman, and not actual non-humans like Superman and the Martian Manhunter.)
John shook his head, suddenly acutely aware of half the Justice League staring at him. “I've just been called back to Oa. Something urgent.”
“We need you on Earth,” Green Arrow said, stepping up beside him. “The whole world's going to hell down there!”
“I'll be back as soon as I can,” John said. “I promise. But the Guardians wouldn't have called me back to Oa if it wasn't something big.”
Green Arrow stroked his blond beard and glanced at Zatanna and Red Tornado.
“All right,” Zatanna said after a moment. “But hurry back. We've not seen something like this since—”
John nodded. Nothing of this magnitude since Darkseid had invaded Earth three years ago after Lex Luthor resurrected him in deep space.
John powered up his ring's life-support field and flew towards the Watchtower's airlock. He had a long flight ahead of him.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 14:59:31 GMT -5
The last of the OMAC units over El Paso fell as Jaime and the Scarab blasted the machine's innards into atoms. Jaime had heard that another one of the big mechanical things that were attacking the major cities had been seen over the Gulf Coast, attacking oil rigs, but he also heard that Aquaman and a platoon of Atlanteans were responding to that threat. For now, El Paso was safe, and Jaime was exhausted.
Jaime turned away from the remains of the OMACs and towards the devastated battle zone, having the Scarab scan the area for any survivors.
“Prioritize the injured,” Jaime told it.
The Scarab didn't understand why. The Reach had taught him to leave the injured to die and rescue those who were better fit for life.
“Humans don't operate that way,” Jaime insisted. “And as long as you're on my spine, you're doing things the human way.”
The Scarab chirped an affirmative. It was remarkably easy to get along with when it complied with Jaime's requests.
There weren't many survivors, but there were very few dead as well. Most of the people had wisely cleared out of the area as soon as Blue Beetle had arrived, and for that Jaime was thankful. Soon he dragged his exhausted body to the Reyes home—his home—and crashed on the couch. His little sister Milagro was in the back room watching some old Power Puff Girl DVDs that Brenda had given her.
Jaime turned on the TV and put it on the news; reports of chaos all over the country streamed in on every station; not only were all of America's major cities under attack, so were other cities around the world. Tokyo had a huge female-looking robot that glowed orange like a sunrise blasting skyscrapers; down south in Mexico City, another monstrosity that shone like some sort of mechanical sun god was dumping OMACs into the streets.
“Jaime!”
The young hero glanced over his shoulder to see Brenda and Paco, his two best friends, running in through the front door of his house. He hadn't even heard it open, he was so focused on the news reports.
“We saw you on the local station,” Brenda said. “Why aren't you helping out in Mexico City or something? They only have like two superheroes down there.”
Jaime winced. “I'm exhausted guys.”
Paco crossed his broad arms over his massive torso. “Hombre! Superheroes don't get exhausted. You have to go do something, you're one of the only heroes Texas has.”
Anxiety welled up in Jaime's gut. On one hand, he knew Paco was right, but on the other hand, he felt that if he tried to do anything else he'd be sloppy. And that could get him and anyone he was trying to save killed. He'd not slept in nearly 24 hours and needed to do so badly.
Jaime buried his hands in his dark hair and felt himself sweating. The whole world was going to hell and he was too tired to do anything but watch. He was still thoroughly in the grip of his self-pity when a knock came at the door. He ignored it completely.
After a few knocks, Brenda answered it.
“Hello,” came a soft female voice. “I'm here to sell fishes!”
“Um...” Brenda called to Jaime. “Hey, I think this is your territory.”
Jaime turned and looked at the visitor, and then found himself goggling. He couldn't make her out completely, as though there was a disconnect between her and the physical world. Approximately speaking, she was a short young woman with pale white skin, but her clothing writhed and shifted. Half her hair was red and cut close to her scalp, but the other half was a spiky rainbow of colors. Her eyes were differently hued, and reality seemed to distort around her as though the gravity of her soul could pull the human mind into its orbit and hold it there.
Jaime struggled to regain his senses and felt the Scarab inside him attempting to do the same.
“Who are you?” he finally managed.
“Me? Oh, I'm just visitor who has come to stay, a passerby on the road that leads nowhere. But you can call me Delirium. I'm not really here to sell you fishes, though. That's the next house over.”
Jaime blinked. “Then why did you come here?”
“My sister was kidnapped, and since I'd probably get confused if I went looking for her, I thought I'd come here and tell you. My brother, Destiny, told me you'd be able to get her. I agree with him, because you smell nice. Both of you!”
She pointed to all three of them, a sudden third arm growing to point to Brenda.
“Your sister?” Paco scratched the stubble on his chin. “What are you, some sort of anthropomorphic personification of insanity? How does that have a sister?”
Jaime assumed that Paco was just guessing.
“Yup!” Delirium said cheerfully. “And I'm the only one who truly understands me. Well, me and the fishes, but they're busy at the bowling alley. They don't like to lose.”
Jaime did not like where this was going. “If you're Delirium and your brother is Destiny, then who is your sister.”
Delirium smiled broadly. “Here's her card!”
She extended a hand and produced a small card. Jaime took it and realized that it wasn't a business card, but a Tarot card; it depicted a skeleton sitting on a horse, and a banner at the bottom had writing on it:
Death.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 15:01:10 GMT -5
Smog poured from the bowels of Bludhaven's industry, even as OMACs laid waste to the machines that rolled through its streets and the civilians scurried about. Anyone who tried to stop the OMACs was treated as a hostile and exterminated—the Master's plans were not to be interfered with.
The great behemoth knew his name was Menoetius, and he knew his Master's face. He knew his Master's dark eyes, always present in the back of his mind. Always driving him. He knew a word that described him, but he couldn't remember what it meant. The word was Titan. Menoetius felt the Master's eyes in his mind, felt pressure, felt heat. He felt his Master's hatred for the people who scurried about, destroying the beauty of mother Gaea's Earth.
And Menoetius felt compelled to reach out with his massive armored hand, thrusting downward as a stream of energy coursed through his obsidian hand, and a spear forming in it. A shield appeared in his left hand, shimmering with the light of Helios, the Sun. The spear lanced out and gouged a deep hole in the ground of the wicked city.
Bludhaven was to be destroyed. The Master commanded it. Menoetius felt power course through his veins and slowly landed, his leg buckling thanks to a crippling from ages ago. Ruined strength. It meant something to him. The name Zeus. It meant hatred. But those things were distractions now.
Menoetius surrendered to the control of the Master, landing atop a factory that poured smog into the air, and smashing a bridge to concrete shards with his great spear. Humans and their automated chariots plummeted into the river below, even as others died beneath his massive feet. Fire danced from his eyes and burned more of Bludhaven's industry to the ground.
Soon, the city would be gone, wiped from the face of the Earth. A memory. Like the ones that Menoetius could no longer recall. The ones that Master had taken away.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 15:01:30 GMT -5
High atop a Bludhaven skyscraper, Nightwing watched as the metal giant tore into the city. For once, he had no witty remarks to make.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 15:03:23 GMT -5
John Stewart emerged from Hyperspace and swooped down towards Oa. From a distance, his ring informed him of a battle going on above the planet's sky. Green light poured from the atmosphere, into a barrier of yellow.
A barrier of yellow light. Oa was under attack—by a yellow corps?
“Glad you could make it!” called a voice in John's mind. Lantern rings allowed a sort of digital telepathy. The voice was that of fellow Lantern Killowog, a friend of Stewart and one of the most able Green Lanterns. “Let's show these Sinestro Poozers what the Green Lantern Corps is made of, Stewart!”
“Sinestro?” John sped up, approaching the speed of light as he arced around the gravity well of Oa to the site of the battle.
“He escaped from his science cell last night,” Killowog said. “We sent some guys out looking for him, but this time he came to us.”
“Yeah, with an army!” John arrived at the battle site, and saw a huge six-armed monster with tentacles for legs about to engulf Killowag. He reached out and stabbed the yellow-energy wielder in the chest with a beam from his ring.
“Where did he get this kind of power?”
Killowog shrugged. “Hell if I know! The Guardians are down there debating if we should use lethal force at this point. But it takes a fraggin' committee to change anything in the Book of Oa.”
Just then, a massive fist of yellow energy slammed into Killowog and blasted him back into the gravity well of Oa. Stewart turned to see an all-too-familiar magenta-skinned figure floating towards him, this time in a yellow and black armor with a new insignia on the chest.
“Ah, Stewart,” Sinestro said with false pleasantry. “I was hoping to find you here. We already captured your human friend Rayner and sent him back to Qward. I'm sure my followers are treating him well.”
Stewart felt his gut twist into a knot and his eyes narrow with anger.
“Where is he, Sinestro!?” Stewart demanded, a green aura flaring to life around him and a battle ax construct forming in his hand. “Where did you get this kind of power?”
“A gift,” Sinestro said. “From our old mutual enemy, Darkseid. But that really doesn't matter.” Sinestro formed his own weapon, a huge burning yellow falchion that would have been far to heavy for a Korugan like Sinestro, had it possessed any actual mass.
The sword slashed out, and Earth's greatest Green Lantern joined the war against the Sinestro Corps.
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Post by arcalian on Feb 25, 2009 15:03:54 GMT -5
The new face of Death smiled. Souls poured from the ruins of Bludhaven into his own black heart, his skis arcing over the planet, invisible to all but a select through. The Black Racer felt the power of thousands of dead pouring into his armor—soon the number would be millions. Soon millions of souls would be utterly in the service of Lord Darkseid. His lord would be pleased. TO BE CONTINUED...If you wish to comment on this issue, please CLICK HERE to visit the letters page.
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