"So you decided the only way to defeat this crazy strong enemy is by accepting a power that completely reshapes your personality and makes you want to see the world burn?" Zatanna's voice was sharp, her hands slamming against the table. "A power LUCIFER said was BAD!"
Jason nodded absently, his mind clearly elsewhere. "What should we name him?" He looked at Diana, his eyes bright, his smile wide. "Wait. Is it a she or a he? I'd like a boy." He paused, reconsidering. "No. But I really want a little girl." His hands were moving, gesturing excitedly. "Oh, where should we raise him? Absolutely not in Gotham." He turned, already planning. "I should go tell my brothers and sisters. My dad too. They'd want to know."
Zatanna slammed the table. The sound cracked through the room.
"FOCUS!"
Jason blinked.
"Sheesh!" Zatanna's voice was almost a shout. "How are you fawning over a baby? First, we have to make sure the baby is BORN. Safely." She pointed at him, her finger jabbing the air. "Before his daddy goes and Frenzies the entire world!"
Jason's expression shifted. The excitement faded, replaced by something more sober. He looked at Zatanna, then at Diana, then at the others gathered in the room.
"Oh. Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair. "Well. I will not destroy the world." His voice was calmer now. "So relax. I've got it covered."
Mazikeen stepped forward, her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on him. "If Lucifer says something is dangerous, then it is that dangerous. No matter what." She shook her head slowly. "The power you have now is way too wild."
Jason met her gaze. His voice was steady. "I have no choice. Literally none." He spread his hands. "The Empty Hand is too powerful. A being made of darkness. I have no understanding of its motives, its desires. All I know is that it is aiming to erase us all." He paused. "And that the Frenzied Flame can hurt him. That's all I needed to hear."
He looked around the room, at the faces of the people he loved.
"I think I died hundreds of times trying to master it." His voice dropped. "You think I'm getting rid of it now?"
"Then what?" Diana stepped closer, her voice softer than the others, but carrying more weight. "You're just going to use a power that sometimes makes you go mad?" She hesitated. Her eyes searched his face. "Jason... you're about to be a father now. What if..." She stopped. Swallowed. Forced the words out. "What if you end up hurting us? Your people?"
Jason's expression shifted. The coldness that had been there moments ago faded. He stepped toward her, his voice gentle.
"I would never."
He reached out, his hand finding hers.
"I picked up this power to save you all. And I will master it." His thumb traced circles on her knuckles. "I don't have an alternative, Diana. None." He met her eyes. "What do you expect me to do? Watch you all die?"
He pulled her closer, his forehead almost touching hers.
"Think of it from my perspective. I faced this being. I looked him in the eyes." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I know what he is. He is beyond Death herself." He pulled back, just enough to see her face. "So how do I face something like that when it's coming for me? For my people? For my world?"
He looked around the room, addressing all of them now.
"Sometimes we have to make hard choices. And I made that choice." He touched his chest, where the flame lived. "This power... I didn't choose it. It was forced upon me." His jaw tightened. "And I know that I can tame it. So have faith in me. Even if it's dangerous." His voice cracked. "Because I would rather die than see any of you hurt."
The room was silent.
They looked at him....at the man who had faced death a hundred times, who had conquered Hell, who had mastered powers that should have broken him. They saw the weight on his shoulders. The fear behind his eyes. The love that drove him forward.
No one spoke.
No one had to.
...
"You really hate him that much, huh?"
Vandal Savage's voice echoed through the chamber, carrying a hint of amusement. He sat on his throne, his fingers steepled, his eyes fixed on the empty space before him.
The voice that answered came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"It is more of disgust. Not hatred." A pause. "How would you feel if your mother allowed your brother outside but denied you? Even though you are older? Smarter? Better?" The voice hardened. "Why does he get those privileges and I did not? To me..." A long, slow breath. "It is less hatred. And more a test. To see if he is truly special. Or not."
Savage laughed. "HAHAHAH! You are an interesting individual." He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Empty Hand, was it? Then we have a deal. You will be allowed inside this body of mine. I will be your avatar. And together, we will take down Jason Anderson. The Beyonder Human."
The voice was warm, almost approving. "Well. You are as ambitious as I expected. Thank you for this offer, Mr. Savage."
Savage felt it before he understood it.
His body was changing. His anatomy no longer existing. Even his mind was being erased. It took only seconds before he realized the truth. He was not sharing the body. He was being replaced. His immortal body, his perfect vessel, was being claimed by a god-like being that had no intention of sharing.
His skin peeled away, flaking like ash. His clothes dissolved, revealing nothing beneath. His body structure completely changed, reshaping into something ancient and terrible. He was now a completely abyss black being, with four horns. Two straight ones rising from his brow. Two longer ones curving outward and back, stretching past his shoulders. Two blue eyes opened, galaxies spinning in their depths.
The being breathed deeply.
"AHHHH..." The voice was different now. Deeper. Older. Satisfied. "The smell of mortals."
He turned to look at Klarion, who had been floating lazily nearby, watching the transformation with casual disinterest. The Witch Boy noticed the gaze and glanced up.
"Oh? Is that your new body, Savage? Did you finally merge with that guy?"
The Empty Hand smiled. It was not a pleasant expression.
"Merge? No." His voice was almost gentle. "There was no merging. I lied." His smile widened. "I took over his body permanently."
Klarion's eyes narrowed. Then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing.
"WAIT, SERIOUSLY! HAHAHAHAHA!" He doubled over, floating in the air, clutching his stomach. "How did he fall for it? HAHAHA!"
The Empty Hand watched him, amused. "Oh, immortals are usually the most foolish." He flexed his new fingers, examining them. "When you have a body that cannot die, you start to think you are invincible." He chuckled, low and dark. "But there are things far worse than death."
He stretched, his new form crackling with power.
Klarion's laughter faded. His expression shifted from amusement to consideration. "Well, too bad. I really liked him." He shrugged. "You know I'll have to kill you, right? Vengeance and all that?"
The Empty Hand tilted his head. His galaxy eyes fixed on the Witch Boy.
"Oh? Is that so?" A pause. "Well. You are welcome to try." His voice was almost pleasant. "But before that. Let me ask you something." He stepped closer. "Are you one of those Lords of Chaos?"
Klarion puffed out his chest. "Why, of course."
The Empty Hand smiled again. "Give me a minute."
He turned. A gate opened in front of him—not the jagged darkness of his own portals, but something else. Something that shimmered with chaotic energy.
Klarion's eyes went wide. He recognized that gate. He knew that realm.
The Empty Hand walked through. The gate closed behind him.
Klarion stayed frozen, his mouth open, his eyes fixed on the empty space where the gate had been. His voice was barely a whisper.
"The gate... was to the Realm of Chaos." His hands trembled. "Where the Lords of Chaos reside. HOW?"
Then he felt it.
His realm. Being torn apart. Piece by piece. The Lords of Chaos....his kin, his brethren, the ancient beings who had existed since the dawn of creation. He sensed them. He sensed their suffering. Their confusion. Their terror.
The gate opened again.
The Empty Hand walked back through. His new form was splattered with blood that shimmered with chaotic light. In his hand, he held a head. The head of the last Lord of Chaos. Its eyes were still open. Its expression was frozen in eternal surprise.
He smiled at Klarion.
"Well." His voice was calm. "You will be the last."
Klarion tried to escape. His magic flared. His body began to dissolve into raw chaos, ready to reform elsewhere.
He felt the hand stab through his back. Penetrating his magical form. Gripping something that should not have been touchable.
"How..." Klarion's voice was weak, fading. "You are..."
"As much as I hate the nickname..." The Empty Hand leaned close, his voice a whisper in Klarion's ear. "I am indeed the Empty Hand. Whatever I kill does not die. It is erased." His grip tightened. "From ever existing. From ever being a recognized existence. There is no heaven. No hell. No waste to what I kill. It is simply..." He smiled. "Erased."
Klarion opened his mouth. No sound came out. His form dissolved....him, his cat Teekl, everything that had ever made him Klarion the Witch Boy.
He disappeared from existence.
The Empty Hand stood alone in the chamber, the last Lord of Chaos's head still in his hand. He looked at it, then tossed it aside.
"Now then." He flexed his fingers, feeling the power of his new vessel. "Where was I?"