Post by markymark261 on Feb 24, 2011 19:03:38 GMT -5
Titans Resistance
Issue #47: “Revolution, Part Three”
Story by Jay McIntyre
Art by Zeb Francis
Edited by Mark Bowers
Issue #47: “Revolution, Part Three”
Story by Jay McIntyre
Art by Zeb Francis
Edited by Mark Bowers
“We operate under the law. Covert action authorities are communicated in a memorandum of notification.”
Cofer Black
“If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it; every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
-1-
Choronzon came diving through the aether at Deriven, who frantically teleported at random.
Random teleportation was not the glib thing it sounded. For one thing, if he did too many of them too close together, pain began to build, in slow accumulation. What the Titans did not understand about magic was that it had its price, just like the scientific reactions they understood did. Part of that was how long magic had been suppressed in their world, but part of it was just how magic worked. Supergirl would no doubt smirk and declare that was proof that magic was science, while ignoring the fact that science declared magic impossible in all forms, and such was part of her blindness.
But he was not thinking of such things now. He teleported randomly so Choronzon wouldn’t know where to find him.
The dragon was no fool, though. It blasted the area with its blue-green fire and forks of lightning. Lightning was a power Deriven himself had, amongst many others, but it was in lightning that Choronzon had the mastery. It was one of many bones of contention between them.
Deriven took a risk. He teleported behind Choronzon and touched the creature’s spine; a spell of rot. The creature howled with rage and lashed back at him with its monstrous spiked tail. Deriven had already teleported away, but Choronzon’s innate defenses were strong; instead of decaying, the creature only felt a spike of pain through its body. It was slightly weakened, but nowhere near crippled, much less killed.
Deriven sighed. This was already a long day. And alone, against Choronzon? He might not make it out alive. He wouldn’t be the first Aspect of Fate to fall in the line of duty down the millenia.
But now was not the time for fatalism. He teleported away again, just in time to avoid Choronzon’s massive jaws slamming shut on him.
-2-
Connor Hawke was Green Arrow.
He had met the Ravager once, and since then had reluctantly stepped into his father’s legacy as the emerald-clad vigilante and archer.
That had troubled him enough. When the government had sought him to lead a group of criminals called Task Force X, he had positively balked. But step by step they had convinced him. The team had since engaged in several successful, if bloody, missions. But doubt and guilt plagued him at every step.
His only fellow hero was the woman Bumblebee. The rest of the team was comprised of the gadget specialist dwarf who sometimes called himself Gizmo, an utter sociopath; the freelance mercenary, Bolt; Clayface, sworn enemy of Batman; Parasite, who haunted the streets of Metropolis. He had doubted the morality of this team, until now.
Now, however, the Markovians were moving. The American government knew it well enough. Finally, a battle was approaching that he could lead this team into, with a clear conscience. But for that he needed the Titans, and the only way he knew how to contact them was through Ravager.
He sketched over these details as he talked to the grim old voice on the communicator. “Ahh, a Suicide Squad, as they were called in the old days,” the voice mused. “Well, with a little help, I daresay I could get you in contact with Robin, at least. And he, in turn, might lead you to another outlaw who might suit you. Though I doubt he’d want to join.”
“We’re not recruiting,” Green Arrow assured the voice. “Just getting ready to fight Markovia.”
“So are we all,” the old voice answered. “Tell me where you are, and Robin will meet you.”
“We are just outside DC,” Green Arrow told him. “On the Maryland side. Bethesda.”
“Very good.”
“Er, one more question,” he said. “If you can direct Robin to me, does that mean....”
“Ask Clayface who I am,” the voice said, and signed off.
Green Arrow stared at the communicator. He hadn’t mentioned that Clayface was on his team.
-3-
“...So you want to hit em there?” Ravager’s remaining eye gleamed. “I gotta give it to you, old man; you got guts.”
Alan Scott merely nodded in acknowledgment of this fact. “Now, to recruiting. Through Eric, we know you already have made contact with the vampire hunters in England as well as the Russian nobility. It strikes me that we should combine our efforts to recruit both.”
“The surviving Russian princess was as polite to me as any Russian can be to a Markovian, given our history,” Terra said. “Perhaps someone else should be involved in the next phase of contact.”
“I think you two bonded pretty well actually,” Ravager put in.
“To a limited degree. And their super soldier and chief scientist were far less amused. They also mentioned they knew of the Society,” Terra said.
“Without prompting from you?” Wildcat asked.
Terra shook her head. “I’ve kept your secrets. What few I know of them.”
“Perhaps some division of labor is in order,” Alan Scott suggested. “Doctor Mid-Nite will go with you; you can send him to the Russians with whomever you choose, while you go to the British vampire hunters.”
“Thanks for the help,” Terra said immediately, forestalling any argument from Ravager. Wildcat didn’t look happy, but said nothing. Interestingly, Doctor Mid-Nite said nothing either. He seemed a good soldier; the silent reliable type.
“All right then,” Terra said. “I assume you’ll be mobilizing.”
“We already are,” Scott said, showing a trace of irritation for the first time. “I’d half suggest that Eric stay with me, but he’s more useful where he is.”
Eric smiled and clasped hands with him briefly.
“Good luck,” Alan said. “With luck, the madness of the Empire shall soon be ended.”
-4-
Deriven could not simply transform Choronzon into a harmless creature, or even disintegrate him. Choronzon had more than enough power to resist that, and more; if he somehow did manage it, Choronzon would simply reform. His strength and resilience was significant.
Deriven had no desire to fight him by himself at all, least of all now. The Markovians were moving on Earth, and he needed to get back there.
He dodged three lightning bolts and blasted back one of his own. He knew that the dragon would resist it, but it was his hope that using one of Choronzon’s own powers against him would gall the wrym into a might rage, and that it would act rashly, opening up a weakness he could exploit.
But the dragon was cagey today. Choronzon continued to seek him out, and Deriven spent half his time hiding. Random teleporting would only work for so long; sooner or later the dragon would get lucky. Besides, the more he did it, the more pain it caused him.
So he hid. Hiding was easier. He reached out with his mind, seeking aid.
Crow and Lilith he found. But not Captain Marvel. Nor the Changeling. Where were they?
He called to Crow and Lilith as quietly as he could; he didn’t want to draw Choronzon’s attention. The dragon did hear the call, but dimly; he couldn’t locate the mage with certainty. He blasted the area with fire, but to no avail.
Crow came, a shadow of doubt and despair blanketing Choronzon’s power. Taking advantage of the distraction she presented, Deriven struck the fell great beast with a hex of energy drain. The Dragon shrieked and blasted them both with aquamarine fire, but their combined shields held. Then Lilith, the Omen, arrived and added her mystic power.
Now, finally, the dragon spoke. “You cannot fight your own battles, so called Mage of Fate. You are a coward!”
“You’ve no qualifications to speak of bravery,” Deriven answered.
The three mystics linked hands and prepared their power, but Choronzon flew away into the astral.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” Deriven said as they floated in the dark clouds. “Omen, you say Kid Devil is ready?”
“He is,” Omen confirmed.
“Then release him. Crow and I will look for the Changeling, the Captain, and see what the state of the Seelie Court is.”
-5-
Robin came in to Bethesda on a WayneTech helicopter, in his civvies. He slipped into an alcove and changed into his costume, then slipped around the corner to where Green Arrow and his ‘Task Force X’ were waiting in a hotel.
They all had rooms, Robin knew (he had hacked the hotel registry back at the cave) and he figured that they would all be waiting for him in one room, likely Connor Hawke’s.
He had heard Ravager tell the story of meeting the new Green Arrow, of course. If the meeting had been with the archer himself, he might have even looked forward to it. The ‘team’ was another matter. He was not paranoid of the government like Anarky, but a government-sponsored team of villains was not something to be trusted or looked upon favorably. Even Bruce had agreed with that assessment.
He stepped into a service alley behind the hotel, and shot his grappling gun at its roof. Zipping upwards, he came to the roof and picked the lock of the roof access. He would have preferred to come down the side of the building, but that would attract too much unwanted attention.
Prowling through the corridors, he found Connor’s room easily enough. He knocked once, but firmly.
They were all crowded in there, awkwardly. The dwarf was immediately recognizable. Bolt too was clearly obvious. Parasite was hiding under mirror shades and a hat. Probably attracted more attention than they diverted, this close to the capital. But then again, they probably had their own protections in place, legally. They would have to, however clandestine a level they operated at.
If anything, it was a surprise there weren’t more super-powered groups, government-sanctioned and otherwise, in the States than there were. Perhaps if Markovia had never risen. But really, you’d think that Markovia’s rise would inspire more groups to oppose them. Then again, perhaps what happened to the Justice Society in the old days had something to do with that.
Clayface’s human disguise was convincing enough, of course. A testament to his shapeshifting abilities. He appeared to be a tall, thin man with sallow features and sandy hair. Ordinary, but not so bland as to be unnerving.
Nonetheless, Robin smiled at him. “Greetings, Clayface. Batman sends his regards.”
It was a mistake.
The shape-shifter lunged up from the chair he had been sitting in and threw an arm at Robin; an arm that became a torrent of mud. Robin backflipped, easily avoiding it, pulling a taser from his belt.
“No, dammit!” Connor Hawke stood, and brought his foot down literally; stomping on Clayface’s muddy tentacle. “We’re not here to fight!”
“Sure,” Clayface growled, “that’s why he said that.”
“You’re both right,” said the dwarf. “We’re not here to fight, but Robin provoked him.”
“It was a reminder,” Robin said. “Not a threat.”
“Whatever, can we start over?” Connor was harried. Robin didn’t envy him running herd on this wolf pack; it made the Titans at their worst look like a Sunday picnic.
“Good idea,” said the dwarf. “Boy wonder doesn’t like us, we don’t like him. But the Markovians are coming, and if we don’t stop them, it’s the house number. Everybody loses.”
The dark-skinned woman stepped into a supportive position behind Connor. The former Bumblebee, Robin noted. Her solo career had been....difficult. And she was the only one truly on Connor’s side in all this. The others served him nominally, but were either more aligned with the dwarf, “Gizmo”, or else wanted to strike out on their own. “Bolt” had deluded notions of heroism, but was easily manipulated. This group couldn’t last, government mandate or not. Like the criminal Suicide Squads of old that Bruce had told him about. When it was over, Connor would probably be better off with them....and Bumblebee might find a home amongst the Justice Society.
Assuming any of them survived this, of course.
“I trust your government handlers are okay with this,” Robin said to Connor.
He nodded. “They suggested it.”
“And you know where we’re going.”
“To recruit the Flash,” Gizmo mused. “Sounds useful.”
“Keystone City views him as a hero, but his methods are extreme, like yours. Getting him to agree might be....difficult. I know this is your team, but no unnecessary risks.”
“We’ll do our best,” Connor agreed, eying the others.
“Good.” Robin kept his tone light. But he was not optimistic.
-6-
Carrie flew high, and a Markovian jet fighter screamed past beneath her. She couldn’t match its speed, she had to draw it in close.
The Manhunter had no such worries; he simply flew in front of an enemy jet. It fired three missiles at him, and he turned transparent and they flew through him. He re-solidified and the jet jerked skywards, but he was able to match its speed. His only worry were the flames from its engines. Avoiding these, he grabbed the fuselage and yanked, sending it hurtling off course.
As it spun out of control, he chased it, grabbed its nose, and flung it groundward before the pilot could regain control.
Anarky, on the ground already, just stayed out of the way. There wasn’t much he could do in a fight like this. However much it might chafe him,
Carrie was still dodging and evading the jet pursuing her, when Argent hurled several silver shards into its cockpit. Carrie was grateful for the help, but the battle was far from over.
Starfire blasted a jet into smithereens with her starbolts.
Supergirl lacked even the Martian’s concerns with fire; she simply smashed through one jet, then used her heat vision to cause another to explode.
Two jets were left, and one of them was going after Anarky on the ground. He ran for his life as machine gun fire peppered the jungle floor. He dodged behind trees that were immediately shredded behind him, wishing for a hand weapon of some kind. He promised himself in that moment that if he survived, he would equip himself with some sort of hand weapon. Preferably a plasma pistol.
Argent and Carrie came up behind it; the jet was slow this close to the ground to achieve its strafing run, enabling them to catch up. One silver shard and one explosive reached its engines. It exploded. Argent got a silver shield up in time to protect herself and Carrie, but Anarky was knocked sprawling, flaming debris falling around him. Dazed, he retained just enough of his wits to roll back and forth to put out the flames. Thankfully, no major pieces of debris hit him.
The others came to him as he groggily shook his head. Argent tended to him as best she could—they all had medical kits with them by this point—but of course she wouldn’t tend to him as Ravager would have. Mostly, he was dazed. Perhaps a slight concussion.
“We will stand with you against the Markovians,” The Manhunter from Mars said. “Carrie will go with you now.”
Carrie started. “What?”
“Your place is with others, child. I have guided you as best I can.”
“Even into battle?”
“We shall all face battle soon enough,” Manhunter said. “You will face it better with your own kind.”
“Two of them are not!” But they all could see it was loyalty and affection for him that made her speak.
“And two of them are,” the Martian said, not unkindly. “And there are others too. You can help them, and you are better with them than I.”
“When this is over, I shall return to you!” Carrie insisted.
The Martian smiled sadly. “We shall see.”
Supergirl drew a little away from the others, and radioed Ravager’s group. Listening, she nodded. Turning to the others, she said, “Robin is recruiting the Flash, and Terra’s team is cooperating with the Justice Society to recruit Jason’s vampire hunters and the Russians. To us, they recommend Themyscira.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Anarky agreed.
Argent nodded too. “Our female-heavy group will help us there.”
“And they will probably enjoy meeting Starfire,” Supergirl added.
Argent shook Carrie’s hand. “Come with us, it will be all right.”
Carrie shook her head. “Nothing will ever be all right again.”
Argent gave Anarky a ride on her silver streak; they were reasonably confident it would take the Markovians a while to mount a further response.
Carrie looked back once. The Manhunter looked back and nodded, smiling. She sighed and flew after the others.
-7-
Deriven finally discovered what had held up the Changeling and Captain Marvel.
The Unseelie were attacking.
Not in full force and not in significant numbers, but clearly their raids upon the Seelie Court were intensifying. Nor was Deriven really surprised by this; if anything, he was annoyed for not foreseeing it. Especially now that the larger realms of the multiverse were once again properly and fully connected to the Earth realm. As above, so below; the synchronization of Unseelie and Markovian military buildups was no coincidence.
But while similar and more or less simultaneous, the actions were not identical. The Markovians were a massive military force; the Unseelie were a disorganized chaotic horde. The Changeling and Captain Marvel were already fending off the latest wave.
Deriven and the Crow flew in, over the glowing city and verdant fields of the Seelie Court towards their outer wall, where the Unseelie boiled and seethed in their numbers. Seelie defenders were already there, backed up by their own sorcerers, magi and priests. Captain Marvel was in the middle of it all, pounding away; the Changeling was somewhere below, armed and armored and for once able to hid amongst his half-kindred.
Deriven and Crow added their support to the defenders, and the battle raged on.....
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