Taylor Hebert/Bug
July 22nd, 2010
It feels good to finally stretch my neck.
You don't realize just how often you move your head around, how often you might tilt it or turn to look over your shoulder, until every little adjustment reminds you of the collar around your neck.
That hunk of metal hadn't been painful, not exactly, but it certainly wasn't fun to wear.
It hadn't been tight enough to choke me but every time I swallowed or shifted, I could feel it press into me.
No, it hadn't been painful but it had been present and I can only imagine how much worse it was for the others.
But it's gone now and with it…
I bring a moth to my fingertip, its wings fluttering, soft and dusty against my skin as I stare at it.
I hadn't been without my powers for long, just a few hours at most, but I hadn't been able to use the swarm in my more overt ways. I couldn't write a message to the others with them, I couldn't use them to explore the more heavily trodden areas of this mountain, and even though I'd never show a card I didn't have to, the fact that that wasn't an option was… grating.
The couch squeaks beneath me as I look up to the ceiling, my eyes fixed on the stone above.
This place is… when I was little my school had gone on a field trip to the PHQ, not the PRT but the actual oil rig out on the ocean. We'd taken the light bridge, we oood and awed at the hexagon forcefield, and when we'd actually explored that place, I thought it had been pretty impressive.
But comparing that rig to Mount Justice… it doesn't feel fair.
This place is massive, dozens of bedrooms, a hangar on one side of the mountain, labs and medbays and prisons below, they've got two kitchens, a locker room half the size of Winslow's big gymnasium and…
Maybe it's because this place is a secret.
The PHQ was something that was meant to be seen, a beacon for the good people of the Bay and a warning for villains in the Empire or ABB, but this place isn't like that.
The crash course Red Tornado had given this morning was pretty brief, something he'd had to throw together at the last minute while the League decided what to do with us in the long term.
Hearing his lesson… it's a lot to take in.
The Protectorate they have here, their Justice League, it hadn't been an official organization when it first formed, it wasn't sanctioned by any government or treaty, it was made because it needed to be made, it was made to…
To fight off an alien invasion.
I sigh as I let my neck roll over the back of the couch, letting something pop as I think.
I still can't believe it.
How fucking different this place is.
Our Protectorate had been founded in 1993, nine years after parahumans first started showing up on record, six years after they started calling themselves superheroes, and about a month after Behemoth's first appearance.
When that had been taught to us back in school, I had been… I'll admit, even as a middle schooler I was a bit skeptical about that timeline.
We'd had parahumans for a little under ten years and in less than half a decade, they started roaming around, wearing spandex, and fighting crime wherever they could find it. Before the Protectorate, we'd had Vikare, Scion deciding nuclear war was off the table; even the Slaughterhouse Nine had been around for six years by that point.
But then Behemoth showed up, utterly eradicated oil reserves in Iran's second biggest field, and suddenly the US decides heroes need a license.
Maybe it was mom that made me skeptical, the way she talked about it. I don't think she liked how the government began steering capes, forcing them to act as officers, all but forbidding ways a cape could use their powers for money, it…
I can see where she was coming from but what else were we supposed to do?
Of course I'm skeptical about it, of course it feels a little too controlled but were the world governments supposed to just let parahumans run wild? Let them come and go wherever they felt they were needed, let them enforce their own ideas of justice?
It's funny, the way they'd taught it in schools, it had seemed so reasonable to take that power away from them, to give it to the nations of the world. After all, what if Eidolon decides a law is unjust? What if Alexandria just started executing people she disagreed with? Questions like that had made it seem natural to form some kind of legislation, to prevent parahumans from completely taking the law into their own hands.
But this place went in the other direction.
Sure, the League is technically beholden to the United Nations, they can only go where they're sanctioned, they have to follow the laws of wherever they're allowed to intervene, but mostly it seems like they just… do whatever they want to.
This place is a prime example of that.
They built it in secret, they didn't even reveal that they'd formed an organization until nearly four years after the fact. They just… the more I learn about them, the less and less they seem like the Protectorate.
I guess saving the world from an alien invasion would let them indulge in a pretty big blank check.
I sigh as I look down, trying to get my thoughts in order.
Right now, I'm sitting in what I think is a common room, a kitchen to my back as I try not to let… everything crash down on me.
We're not in Earth Bet anymore.
I knew that days ago, I knew that yesterday, and I knew that this morning but for some reason I don't think it's really hit me yet, the full weight of it I mean.
There isn't a way home.
Not one the League's been able to find, hell, just a week ago they didn't even know about other universes and half a dozen exams later, their doctors still aren't sure if we're actually from another place at all!
I've heard them talking, the skepticism, the whispered conversations between some of the heroes moving around this place. I haven't been able to pick out full sentences but I know what it sounds like when an adult doesn't believe you.
Despite every little difference this place has, aliens, fucking magic, an international Protectorate somehow consisting of only 15 heroes, I guess multiversal incursion is a bridge too far.
The swarm I've got brewing outside shifts against itself, the bugs I've got all over most of this mountain skitter quietly, most of them kept far out of sight as I try to consider what's gonna happen tonight.
The League decided that while they're deliberating on what to do with all of us in the long-term, in the short-term they decided we're gonna be staying here.
All of us.
My mouth feels dry as I try to consider the implications.
Their Wards team, which I still don't know the actual name of, is apparently on some mission in the Caribbean and they're not expected to come back until early tomorrow morning. While I'm worried about that, it's the other thing that's eating at me.
The League's given us almost full control of the mountain, letting us explore most of the base by ourselves.
That's what the others are doing, exploring the place with their own eyes and ears and I'm just sitting here, trying to think about what I'll say to her.
To Panacea.
When Red Tornado said she'd be coming by tonight, I thought the robot must have been about ready to short-circuit. After all, why the hell would they bring our victim to us? Why the hell did Panacea even fucking agree to that?
Did she actually agree to come or is this something the League's forcing her to do? She has to have more privileges than us, more leeway, I doubt they made her submit to the fucking lasso, so why—
Lisa breaks off from the others, the gnat sitting against her ear making its way through the winding halls.
Making its way towards me.
I bring my legs up on to the couch as I force myself to sit there. If I leave the room, she'll just follow. I know what she wants from me, I could see it on her face when I split. She wants to know why I haven't talked much the past few days, why I didn't go to see them when they let me out of my cell.
I don't want her to see me, I don't want her to somehow figure out what the lasso had forced me to say, what it made me realize.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and wait.
It doesn't take Lisa very long to find me, even with how twisting these corridors can be, she can probably just know where I am based off something as miniscule as the heat trail I leave behind.
She walks into the room on my left side and I don't turn to face her.
"Hey," she greets, voice bright as she moves over to the couch, her tone surprised, like she didn't expect to find me here. "Wanna tell me why you've been so weird lately?"
I grab my foot with my free hand, thumb pressing hard enough to make the muscle ache, my sweats a little stifling as I shift.
"Just gonna cut to the chase then," I reply as Lisa sits down next to me, leaving just enough space for a third person if they wanted to drop in.
"Figured you wouldn't want to beat around the bush," the Thinker states, "And that's not me using my power by the way."
I turn to look at her, meeting the green of her eyes as she inhales.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask
"I figure that's what this is about, right?," she starts, "I don't know what's eating you but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with my power."
I don't say anything, I don't give her an inch.
The silence doesn't last very long before she speaks up again.
"What I told you in the loft was true." She states, "My power tells me things, it lets me fill in the gaps, but I can't pull something from nothing. I know you're upset, I know it has to deal with the rest of the team, that it probably has a lot to deal with me— my power— but I can't…"
She trails off and offers me a hand.
I try to ignore it.
I really do.
As I take it in mine, she squeezes it, her grip just strong enough to almost hurt.
"...I could use it like how you think I can," she continues, "But aside from it having some pretty fucking limited uses, I'm not going to just… I make jokes about being psychic, but I'm not gonna peek inside your head. Okay?"
"I don't know that," I reply, looking down at our joined hands. "I want to believe that but I don't know if you're telling the truth. I don't know if you're just telling me what I want to hear. I…"
The memory threatens to flash in my mind, what that fucking lasso had pulled from me, how I was so fucking desperate for even the slightest fucking companionship that I was willing to…
No.
No.
It doesn't fucking know that.
And neither does she.
"I'm fine," I tell her, pulling my hand from her grip as I look at the rest of the room, my eyes settling on the deep green couch to our left, laid perpendicular to ours. "Just drop it, okay?"
This time she actually lets the quiet sit, nearly a whole minute passing before I take a breath.
"How are the rest of the team?"
"Eh," Lisa picks up the conversation like I didn't drop it, shrugging with one shoulder as she speaks, "Brian isn't doing too hot, he's worried about his sister. Rachel's worried about her dogs back home— she had a shelter y'know—"
I hum, I didn't know that actually.
"—but I told her the boss wouldn't get rid of a resource, even something like dogs. Alec is—"
"Is that even true?" I ask, feeling the others start to close in, either randomly looking around or actively searching for us. "Would he take care of her dogs or—"
I stop and turn to look at the blonde, one hand rising up to brush my curls behind an ear.
"—who is the boss?" I ask and when Lisa tilts her head, I explain. "We're a universe away, Brian's pretty sure you know who he is, and there's no chance this'll get back to him."
Lisa doesn't answer me immediately, instead she brings her own legs up to mirror mine, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she collects herself.
"I don't…" she sighs, "Look, I want to tell you, really I do, but this guy is… he's worse than you think, and even if there's no chance he can get here, if he finds out I let something slip in the interim, he'll…"
She lets me think about what'll happen and I find myself reaching for her hand as I speak. Her palm soft against mine.
"He'll kill you?" I ask, feeling a beehive outside swarm against itself.
Lisa doesn't nod, instead she turns her head lower, eyes fixed on my knee.
"Doubt it," she answers, "I know he's a Thinker, I know his power's pretty fucking stacked compared to most Thinker's, but I'm not…"
"Not a resource he'd waste," I surmise.
"Nope," she agrees, "I try not to think about it for all the good that does me. He tries to make me think about it sometimes, whenever he calls me, he'll drop something he knows will trigger my power and… yeah, he sucks."
The beehive rattles so much it almost falls from the tree, the bees swarming in time with my thoughts. How would he use her? How would he keep her from running? How would he…
Her eyes meet mine and I squeeze her hand tight.
"That's not going to happen," I tell her, speaking quicker when she tries to open her mouth, when she tries to brush me off. "Okay? It won't. I'll make sure of it."
The smile Lisa gives me is soft but past it I can see what she's trying to do, she doesn't believe me I think.
"I promise," I nod at her, leaning into her space. "Okay?"
She rolls her eyes as she squeezes my hand back.
"Okay," she agrees, letting go of my hand as she stands. "Wanna go find the others? Alec said their games here are—"
"They're pretty cool," the boy in question interrupts, Brian leading the trio through the halls, Rachel and the noirette at his heels.
Alec squeezes past Brian as he points to the TV opposite the couch I was sitting on.
"Dunno where the consoles are but that TV has a menu connected to one."
"We can check it out later," Brian tells him, already falling into his role as he looks at Lisa first, then at me. "What were you guys talking about?"
"Nothing big," Lisa answers before I can, offering me a hand as I move to stand. I take it and as she helps pull me up, she looks back at Brian. "Just wanted to get a head start on what the hell we're supposed to say later."
"Yeah," Brian rolls a shoulder as he shakes his head, his lips thinning as he approaches us. "Been thinking about that too, they don't exactly make a card for hostages do they?"
"I bet we could find one," Lisa replies, "Doubt there's one for a robbery gone so wrong you end up in an entirely different universe though."
"She'll get over it," Rachel says, snapping for her dogs and pointing them to the couch, the rottweiler and shepherd jumping up easily but the terrier lagging behind. When she catches me staring at her, she returns the look with a glare of her own, amber eyes hot. "What?"
My lips thin as I consider the girl in the doorway.
Rachel and I… to say we haven't gotten off on the best foot would be an understatement.
The first time we really saw each other, she tried to kill me and I replied by treating her face like a soccer ball. Somehow I'd managed to stay in the loft after that, I even had pizza with her and the rest of the team, all of us watching some stupid movie I half-remember before I had to leave.
After that, we didn't really talk much, she'd been part of the discussion on whether or not we should rob the bank, she'd seemed excited that her dogs could go wild on Aegis, but I don't think she'd actually addressed me during that conversation.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure she didn't the other night, when we were all in that little room with the collars around our necks.
"I feel bad about it," I answer, ignoring the shake of her lips as I return her gaze, explaining myself as quickly as I can. "I don't care about what we did with the hostages," I lie, "But there's a difference between making sure someone won't do something stupid and taking someone to a whole new universe."
Bitch's eyes narrow but her lips stop shaking, the snarl fading as she moves to the couch, her hand running over the back of it and reaching down to pet the rottweiler.
"She has every right to be pissed with us," I push, looking away from her and to the others.
I hadn't wanted to rob that bank, I knew I was the only one who felt guilty about it, but thankfully Brian at least has the decency to look ashamed as he nods.
"Not our fault," he says as Alec flops on to the shorter couch, his legs dangling over the armrest. "Leet's the one who fucked up but yeah, I get where you're coming from,"
"Still gonna have to get over it," Alec replies, playing the devil's advocate as he turns his blue eyes up to look at me, the glaze of them seeming thicker as he speaks. "I mean, way Red Tornado talked about it, we're the only parahumans in this place."
His reminder gets all of us to quiet, Lisa and Brian taking seats on the shorter couch as I sit on the L of the longer one.
"I still can't believe that," I say, shaking my head as I remember what the doctors had said, how alarmed they were by the 'tumors' in our brains.
"It's true," Lisa says and when our eyes turn to look at her, she shrugs. "I know that doesn't sound right but I've looked at every single hero they've let us meet since they took the collars off and they're not lying."
"So Superman's really an alien?" I ask, remembering the footage Red Tornado had let us look at. "Really?"
"Yeah," Lisa nods, "I can't believe it either, big-ass universe and by some cosmic fucking chance kryptonians look exactly like human beings."
"But that doesn't—" I try to argue but Brian's already putting a hand out, trying to put his team back on track as he interrupts.
"We can talk about that later," he repeats, voice a little exasperated as Alec snickers, looking over at me, "What did you and Lisa come up with?"
I tilt my head and he elaborates.
"About what we're gonna say to Panacea."
Before I can explain, before I can toss the explanation on to Lisa, a robotic voice echoes loud through the mountain, the tone ringing through the stone hallways.
"Recognized, Black Canary, 1 - 3."
The voice heralds the sound of a vent expanding and hearing it, I nearly begin to wonder why they'd need a worldwide teleport netweork for only 15 people when it sounds again.
"Access Granted, Panacea, A-0-3. Authorization, Black Canary 1 -3"
"Nevermind," Brian states as he gets up, his hands slapping his knees. "Guess we'll make it up as we go."
"Fucking stupid," Rachel grunts, leading our quintet back down the hallway "Why's she even here anyway?"
At least someone's asking the right questions.
"Probably to check how good a fit she'd be here," Lisa answers, "There's no way the Justice League just lets her off by herself, she'll either live here or get stuck with one of them."
"Can't believe they're just letting us live here," Alec starts, his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the ceiling, his eyes trailing the lights on the corners. "You think the super kids are gonna be cool with that?"
"S'not that big a deal," Lisa downplays as we turn a corner. "Robin and Kid Flash don't actually live here and the other three… I think they've got their own bits of culture shock to deal with."
"An alien, a clone, and an Atlantian live in a mountain together," Alec snorts, "Sounds like the beginning to a nerdy joke."
"Yeah well you can add five or six parahumans to the set up," Brian turns to look at me over his shoulder, his brown eyes meeting mine. "Least until we move out."
"Yeah but what are the chances of that?" Alec asks, "I mean, maybe you can get the fuck out of here when you turn eighteen but—"
Brian puts a hand out to silence him, darkness threaded between the fingers and when Lisa turns back to see what got Alec to shut up, she starts laughing.
It begins as a giggle but as we turn to the final stretch, it boils over into a full blown cackle.
Why is she—
Brian looks back at me, his eyes flicking to Alec for a moment as his lips thin, a small flush on his face.
Oh.
I get it.
"Dude," Alec turns, walking backwards as he gives Brian a shit-eating grin. "Really gonna just fuck off then?"
"I'm not fucking doing highschool twice," Brian answers, shaking his head before he rushes forward, tapping Alec's shoulder and sending the smaller boy twirling. "Now shut the fuck up about that, I wanna keep that on the down low."
Part of me understands why Brian would lie about his age, if I had the chance to skip high school I would too, but I can't help but feel a little disappointed about it.
Lisa had been pretty sure yesterday that the League would end up sticking us in some kind of school, probably so they could at least say they were trying to give us a normal life while they looked for a way to send us back. It's no wonder Brian would have tried to get out of it and as big as he is, with a voice that deep, yeah he can pass for an adult pretty easily.
No more words are said between us as we enter the largest room in the mountain, the center of it dominated by some kind of glowing floor, a grid pattern lighting up the area in a soft light blue.
On the other side of the glow, there's the Leagues teleportation tubes, and presumably, Black Canary.
She's,..
I guess I shouldn't be terribly surprised by her outfit given that compared to Wonder Woman it's practically conservative, but still.
What is with the heroes of this place and wearing outfits like that?
She's blonde, hair about the same shade as Lisa, a light gold that falls maybe halfway to her mid back.
She's wearing a black leotard, her legs covered by dark grey fishnets, with a short-cut dark blue jacket, and a black leather choker with a golden charm to complete the ensemble.
And like so many heroes of this world, she isn't wearing a mask.
I try not to let it bother me that so far, every hero I've seen is some shade of attractive. Her jawline's the hardest thing about her, so defined that if I were to be uncharitable I might call it mannish but when you put it next to her full lips, defined nose, and sharp looking eyes, it comes together into something that should belong to a model.
She turns to look at us, smiling stiffly as she gives us a wave.
Behind her is a familiar figure, someone I haven't seen in days but someone I'm sure I'll never forget.
Panacea doesn't look at us as the hero takes a step forward. Instead she just looks at the floor, one hand picking at the skin of a finger as the other wrings the fabric of her long skirt.
Unlike us, Panacea isn't wearing gray sweats, instead she has on a thick looking peach sweater and a darker skirt, the colors almost clashing.
"Hello," the blonde hero greets before putting her hands behind her back, her voice low and surpringly sultry. "My name is Black Canary and for the time being, I will serve as the Cave's… Den Mother so to speak, at least until everyone's acclimated here."
She says the title like it doesn't quite fit in her mouth, like this is some responsibility she wasn't prepared to have. I can't blame her, between the five maybe six of us, their Wards team has doubled.
"Oh," Lisa laughs, her eyes looking down to the floor as she mirrors Black Canary's gesture. "The League doesn't trust us yet, do they?"
"Pardon?" Black Canary asks, her stance shifting as she gives Lisa her attention.
"You've doubled the amount of heroes here," Lisa replies, "You and Red Tornado, doesn't take a genius to figure out why."
"Can you blame them?" Panacea asks from behind Black Canary and as she steps around her, I find myself forgiving Lisa for not noticing the mousy girl at the bank. Coupled with how short she is and how bland her outfit looks, the only reason I might remember her is because of the sheer volume of freckles over her skin. "I wouldn't want a team of thieves running around my old house if I could help it."
"Amy," Black Canary puts a hand out for the girl behind her, her blue eyes softening but her tone firm. "We've talked about this."
The healer's silver eyes flick up to the hero's, narrowing before they zip back down to Lisa. She's still glaring, but she doesn't back it up with another passive insult.
"Oh!" Lisa smiles like a cat that's caught the canary, "That's all you needed? A—"
Lisa stops herself as she looks away from Panacea, her eyes darting to Black Canary as her grin drops.
"Sorry," She apologizes,"I'm used to trading barbs with heroes, force of habit, y'know…"
She trails off and Panacea nods, her glare just as solid as ever as Black Canary claps her hands together.
"I understand that there's some…" she curls her bottom lip as she looks between the six of us, "animosity between you all. That's to be expected given your circumstance but I'm hoping we'll be able to work some of that out today."
Lisa looks back at the hero then, head tilted but quiet as she nods.
"But first…" Black Canary stalls, her hands falling back behind her, "While I would like to talk to you all in a group setting at some point, the League has asked me to propose… a comprehensive analysis of your home universe. Your… Earth Beta."
"Bet," Brian corrects, "We uh… we use the hebrew alphabet for these kind of things."
The rest of us nod and Black Canary lets out a slight exhale, amusement clear in her eyes.
"That's interesting," she states, honest curiosity in her voice "I'd love to know all the differences, but this scan will… I understand that you all have an aversion to telepathy?"
Again, she's met with a chorus of nods and before she can ask why, I step forward.
"Earth Bet doesn't have any telepaths," I tell her, "No one back home can read minds, no one except…"
It's funny, even a universe away it doesn't feel right to say Her name.
Like She might hear me.
"The Simurgh."
For her credit, Black Canary doesn't immediately prod, her lips thin and her eyes narrow but she decides not to sate her curiosity as the quiet starts to stretch.
I don't let it.
I know they're trying to be patient with us, trying not to agitate, but so far that's just slowing everything down.
"She's an Endbringer," I explain, just about managing to keep my voice steady as the blonde meets my eyes. "One of three monsters that attacks a city every three to four months, she… she's able to see the future, she has telekinesis capable of ripping buildings from their foundations, and if you're in her range— her scream— for long enough… you become a bomb. That's the only real telepathy we have in our world."
Black Canary's face gets paler at my explanation, her throat bobbing as she nods.
"I see…" She brings a hand up to her face, her fingers rising to her ear as she turns, "I need to call someone, please give me just a moment."
Her heels click against the floor as she heads over to the teleportation tube fit into the wall, her voice hushed but no less severe as she barks into it. I can't make out any individual words but I can tell she's upset.
"Oh shit," Lisa mutters, looking at the woman before turning back to us. "They want their Martian to peek inside our heads."
"What?" I, Brian, Rachel, and Panacea—Amy— all ask at once, our voices just loud enough that I catch Black Canary's shoulders jumping.
"Yeah," Lisa nods and when Brian moves to speak up, she silences him with a finger. "Fucking yes I'm sure, their 'comprehensive analysis?' They want him to scan our heads, see our memories, something he can write down and report to the League."
"Why the fuck would they do that?" Panacea asks, her tone suspicious as she looks Lisa up and down.
"One," Lisa turns her finger to healer, "I'm not making this shit up to drive a wedge, okay? I know you, Bug, Grue, and Bitch all want to head back home and I'm not nearly as big a cunt as you seem to think I am. Two, their scan would be a helluva lot quicker than asking us to fill out a few forms, plus, forms can be… look, unless you guys want to answer a hundred questions with the lasso—"
"No," Alec and I interrupt at the same time, the blue-eyed boy crossing his arms as he shakes his head. "But that doesn't mean I'm letting their fucking alien take a look under the hood."
"Not a chance," Brian replies and then looking back at Black Canary, he steps closer to us, leaning down and forming something of a huddle between him and the rest of the Undersiders. "Look, I'm not— I'll let them know a lot but I'm not going to give someone I don't know full access to my head."
"No," I agree, nodding. "We can't just… we're not doing this. They can't make us…" my eyes flick over to Lisa, "Right?"
"They won't force it," Lisa answers but then waves her hand in a so-so gesture, "But ten to one odds they're gonna push for it."
"What makes you say that?" Amy asks, stepping closer and half joining our little huddle.
"Because she just got off the phone," Lisa points to the cave's Den Mother, Black Canary walking towards us with a tight expression on her face,
Seeing our huddle does nothing to slow her down and as we all separate, she sighs.
"Martian Manhunter will be arriving shortly," she says, putting her hands up to quiet the few of us that try to interrupt her. "He's… he thinks he can persuade you and whether or not it means anything, I've worked with him for years. I know he can be trusted."
"Well it doesn't mean shit," Alec replies and when Black Canary looks down at him, he just shrugs, face blank like a statue. "Look, maybe they're different here but where we come from capes that can fuck with people's heads are gonna fuck with people's heads, they're gonna mess shit up, fuck with your brain, and—"
He stops and I watch as all the tension in his body fades away, his limbs dropping back to his sides as he looks towards the teleportation device.
"—look, if he fucks around with us… what are the chance we'll even know?"
The question seems to startle Black Canary, a look of worry crossing over her face as she reaches a hand out, trying to comfort Alec when that same robotic voice rings through the base, their teleportation tube lighting up with golden energy.
"Recognized," it says, "Martian Manhunter, 1-7"
The light fades and stepping out from it is…
He's not what I expected.
With a name like Marian Manhunter, I expected some kind of inhuman beast, a hulking monster without any limbs or features I could relate to but he's… he's surprisingly normal compared to what I'd imagined.
He looks like the idea of an alien.
Green skin, bald, solid red eyes with blunt and sunken features, he's like if the classic 'little grey men' were built a little more human.
His costume is sleek, a black bodyglove with red accents that covers him from his neck all the way down to his feet, with a red X over his chest and a blue cloak settled over his shoulders, pinned in place by bright golden circles
As he turns his head to look at us, I can't find a pupil to follow the gaze of and as he speaks I see that his throat doesn't move like it should.
It doesn't move at all.
"Hello," he greets, his voice deep in the back of his throat, smooth and heavy. "I understand that where you all come from, telepathy is seen as… abhorrent."
"Yeah," Brian replies and I'm a little surprised when he steps forward, putting himself between us and the alien. "You could say that."
The alien's head turns to Black Canary and through some kind of silent conversation, she takes over.
"On Mars telepathy is the most common form of communication," she states, "Though the League hasn't yet gone to Mars, Martian Manhunter has showed us how they communicate on his home planet hundreds of times."
"You let him in your head?" Rachel asks, suspicion in her tone.
"I do," Black Canary answers, "And it's not as invasive as what the—" she stops herself, her eyes flicking to Alec before she clears her throat. "It's not as invasive as what might happen on your world."
"Indeed," Martian Manhunter picks up the conversation then, raising a hand in peace. "I would not explore the inner depths of your minds, I would only absorb the surface, information separate from your relationships or inner monologue."
"Just factual stuff?" I ask, trying to think about how that would even work.
"Yes," the Martian replies, "It's a simple process, I would ask you all to sit in a room with me, I would ask question about your world, any one of you would be free to answer or adjust the answers of another and—"
"And the thoughts would bubble up without even thinking about it," Lisa concludes, "Like 'don't think of pink elephants.'"
"Exactly," Martian Manhunter agrees, his nod stiff as he gestures to Black Canary. "If it would make any of you more comfortable, Black Canary could supervise, in addition to Batman."
"Batman?" Rachel asks and Lisa points to the ceiling, her finger fixed on a camera.
"Our invisible chaperone," she answers, "Can't let the thieves go walking around unsupervised."
"What kind of questions would you ask?" I bring the swarm in a little closer. I don't know what he's made out of but he looks like flesh and blood at least.
"I have a list," he answers simply, "But if any question is uncomfortable, feel free to speak up. I will also slow if I sense any distress."
I try not to bristle at the word 'sense' and if he notices or not, he doesn't let it show.
"I…" I look at the others. I want this to be over as quickly as possible and the way Lisa said it, it's either this or hours and hours of grueling questions but that doesn't mean I want this. "I think we'd like to talk about it first."
"Of course," Martian Manhunter acquiesces and when he takes a step back, his cloak seems to take a second longer to fall, like it's underwater.
I wish I could say the conversation we all have is short, that it doesn't take us longer than fifteen minutes to decide no.
But that's not what happens.
It takes hours.
Lisa pushes for it as much as she can, Amy pushes back almost twice as hard, and Alec's surprisingly on board with it all given how he reacted at first. Brian's willing to do anything if it means getting home quicker and for all her bark, Rachel's willing to go along with whatever her team pushes for.
As for me…
I try not to let the lasso's words echo through my head as I take my seat.
The room we're in isn't much to write home about, small, practically cramped with our seven chairs, the six of us assembled in a horse shoe with the Martian sitting on the other side.
"Where would you like to begin?" He asks and I try to let the memories come to me.
I look up at him, meeting the red of his gaze as I answer.
"On May 20th, 1982, a golden man was found floating over the Atlantic…"
Author's Note: Hello again!
So… this chapter.
I'll be honest, I may have bitten off more than I could chew. I needed lasso fallout and introspection about this world, I needed the Undersiders to be on better terms, I needed Amy to show up this arc, and I really needed the Martian Manhunter scene.
And of course, all of that means some things might be… a little rushed.
Instead of doing the 2kish conversation between the Amysiders (fun fanon name), I decided instead not to bloat the chapter any more.
Their reasoning is something I could leave ambiguous… but I find Worm Fanfic communities don't like that.
Alec went along with it because he kind of has a history of 'saying no doesn't actually stop shit, it just gets people angrier with you, just fucking say yes the first time and learn to cope.'
Brian was whittled down by Lisa, Rachel will go along with what the others do, and Lisa pushed for it because deep down she is fucking curious about what telepathy is here and she wants to sink her power into it.
As for Amy? She… she's been living with a therapist for a few days and that peace is something she likes but is also something she feels might be risked if she doesn't do as she's told. So of course she fights it but a few pointed stabs from Lisa made her too nervous to hold her ground.
Oh and Taylor has been trying to deny herself for a few days but tbh, she is this close to basking in the closest thing she has to friends.
So yeah, that's what I have.
I like this chapter a lot but I can understand if it sucks.
Also! I'd like you guy's opinions on where this arc should go.
I'm tempted to end it next chapter with a Justice League interlude but I could also extend it a chapter so that the Amysiders actually get to talking with the YJ team, so next time on Peristalsis (hopefully out this Sunday) is… idk yet!
As always, please kindly inform me about spelling or grammar mistakes and flay me alive if I made a continuity error!!!Last edited: Thursday at 5:59 PM Award ReplyReport457SleepyBirdThursday at 5:55 PMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks 2.B Martian Manhunter/Justice League New View contentSleepyBirdShe/Her/They/Them53 minutes agoNewAdd bookmark#1,991Mount Justice
July 23rd, 2010
01:25 EDT
"Thank you," the Martian says, voice as hollow as it had been when they first entered the room some hours ago. It was not a perfect voice, its rhythm off, its cadence tilted, its resonance a little too low to be natural. But it was a good imitation, especially for a being whose race had long since evolved past the need for speech. "I believe I have everything I require."
"Done already?" the black-haired boy snorts, blue eyes portraying an amusement the Martian does not sense. "Sure you don't have any other questions?"
Behind the feigned nonchalance is the faintest echo of worry, a pale ghost of fear.
It takes everything J'onn has not to reach out, not to protect that poor withered ember of feeling.
"I am sure," the hero replies, the chair behind him scooting as he moves to stand. "If I require any further elaboration, I will be sure to make an appointment."
"Good," The redheaded girl— Rachel— states, a touch of annoyance leaking into her tone as she stands, cracking her back as she raises her hands to the ceiling, stretching like her canines might. "Fucking sprung this shit on us."
"I apologize," J'onn does not wince at the girl's thoughts; he does not stutter nor does his tone waver. It is more difficult than he anticipated. While the boy's emotions are quiet, little things, as fleeting as snowflakes, the girl's are loud, burning infernos, every thought and feeling tracing back in some way to anger and for a psionic being like himself, she is practically screaming at him. "I will not ask again unless I feel it is required."
His promise does nothing to smother the frustration inside the girl, her anger so very much like Superman's pseudo-child.
"I'd be willing to give it another shot," the blonde adds, her lie said with the same confidence others reserve for breathing, her statement carefully crafted for the audience she finds herself performing for.
The silver-eyed girl, Panacea, feels incredulity take over her lingering doubts and shame, the negative emotions smothered as she turns in her chair, eyeing the 'Thinker'."
The larger boy, Brian, rolls his eyes. He is familiar with his teammate's song and dance and yet his own anxiety slips under her words, the fear quieting as he shakes his head.
Alec and Rachel both stare at the girl, faint amusement and simmering respect washing over her.
And for their centerpiece, the one called Taylor, she feels… different.
While the others are either distracted or put at ease by the blonde's words, her own feelings harden, protective but brittle. She has a sense she is being manipulated but that doubt is quashed as she shifts closer to her friend, worry overtaking that fear of betrayal.
As for Lisa, she merely shrugs under the attention, her green eyes locked on to the red of the Martian's, her grin almost perfect enough to hide the vampiric curiosity lurking within. "Wasn't as bad as I expected."
J'onn can feel the power in her eyes, the shadow of something greater lurking just below the surface, like some great predator lying in wait.
It doesn't seem to notice him or if it does, it does not care.
"I am glad to hear that," the telepath replies, bringing a hand to his chest in gratitude, the fist pressed tight against the center of his emblem. "Now, I apologize again, but it is late, I believe all of you would benefit from a good night's rest."
"Cept you, right?" Lisa asks and when he gives her his attention, he feels the shadow in her mind pulse. Her grin grows wider, the edges sharper, and J'onn tries not to follow the pulse, he tries not to see what memories they bring. "You don't sleep, do you?"
"Not as humans do," he answers and like Alec before her, J'onn has to restrain himself, he can feel where her thoughts have led her even if she isn't consciously aware of it. Back to the room, back to the rope. "Now, I have a report to make and you all need your rest."
"Can we see it?" the girl in the center most chair asks, Taylor's brown eyes fixed on his form, her expression steely. "Your report."
"When I have finished it," he replies and even trying to keep his mind fixed on himself, he feels the echo of her doubt, memories of a dozen authority figures lying to her with plastic smiles. "I promise."
The doubt does not fade and as J'onn moves to open the door, he quietly sends a thought to Black Canary, the woman's attention barely jumping as he 'speaks' to her.
"Follow me," he asks, "Please."
While none of the league are true psionics like himself, he feels Dinah at least try to form the affirmative, her reply less a word and more a feeling.
It almost feels right.
As the eight leave the room, J'onn in the front and Dinah in the back, the Martian forces himself to stay calm. To stay steady.
He tries not to feel them, to not eavesdrop on their inner thoughts, but their emotions are so very loud.
And so very sad.
He manages to keep himself composed, thankful that the others, the team, are still on their mission.
The meeting between the two groups is something he'd like to attend, something he'd like to chaperone, something he'd like to watch and nurture and protect and it… he is thankful that they will have time to plan it another day.
As he marches through the center room, heading for the zeta tube, he is glad that his niece is not here to sense him, not close enough to feel how shaken he is.
Any other night and he'd be happy to give her his full attention, they'd stay awake and talk but for tonight…
Tonight he is so very tired.
If she senses any lingering concern tomorrow, he will promise to tell her more when he can, he will tell her that everything is going to be okay.
And the very moment he steps through the zeta tube, the instant he is away from anyone's attention, J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, collapses.
He is in an alleyway, he is in Chicago, his apartment is not very far, a brisk walk would take him there in minutes. And yet instead, he lays there, the cool ground a balm to his suddenly flushed skin.
He feels… he feels sick.
Swallowing is not something Martians do when they're afraid, most actions a human would use to soothe themselves would seem strange to a Martian, but… he isn't on M'arzz. There are no Psions to pull his mind apart, no V'mteers to separate his emotion from his anima, there is nothing he can do to keep himself anchored.
So his mind drifts.
He thinks of them.
The Monsters of this… Earth Bet.
The atrocities.
The Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse, the Blasphemies, Sleeper, Charybdis, Mr. Bough, Glaistig Uaine, the Ashbeast, so many different threats, so many crimes, so much blood, threats that rivalled the worst his universe had to offer.
Even the echo of the parahumans terror had been enough to shake him, had been enough to weaken his resolve.
How would the League deal with them if they became a threat to this world? If they did form a way back, would it… would they be letting them in?
He is strong, even for a hero he stands above much of the League but there is an uncertainty to his thoughts.
An uncertainty that quickly peels away into anger.
He feels his form shiver as he remembers a pair of blue eyes, eyes that insisted upon themselves, eyes that thought they alone had the power to decide another's feeling.
It is rare indeed that J'onn allows himself this feeling but as he pushes himself up, he can't help but snarl.
"Heartbreaker," he mutters, remembering those eyes, remembering that feeling, that distant dread the others felt, like the fear of an oncoming storm. But while their worry was distant, concerned more than terrified, Alec was… he was numb.
He'd been in the center of that storm for most of his life, he'd gotten used to the pain, the suffering, he retreated in on himself, his inborn morals scrapped away, his power used in ways he didn't want J'onn to know.
He didn't want any of them to know.
But the Martian had seen so much.
He saw the atrocities he'd been forced to commit, he'd seen that power used voluntarily, his attempt to drown himself in hedonism all he had to try and forget about those eyes that forced him into lust, hate, and fear.
J'onn stands and his hands itch with a need to strangle that man.
Nikos Vasil.
If he ever touches that boy again, J'onn will—
The zeta tube flashes again, the little telephone box it had been hidden as lighting with a golden glow before the doors open. Heels click and echo in the alleyway and before he can turn to face her, Dinah Lance is upon him, her hands on his shoulders, voice thick with concern.
"J'onn," she says, worry dripping as her palms squeeze into his cloak. "J'onn, are you—"
"No," the Martian replies. "I am not alright, I am— I—"
He turns in her grip, his form shifting, his density fading as he slips from her hands.
She is afraid, he can see it in her eyes and hear the echo in her mind and he offers her a nod as he floats above her, drifting away.
"I will be informing the League of my findings tomorrow, call Batman, tell him it's an emergency. Tell him to…"
J'onn swallows.
"Tell him to bring everyone we can spare."
The WatchTower
July 23rd, 2010
13:15 EDT
High above the earth, floating in its upper orbit, some of the most powerful people on the planet move to take their seats.
They are a collection of heroes, paragons of virtue and strength, and though they might vary in certain areas, there isn't a single one of them that hasn't earned their spot.
All of them fought to get here, all of them poured every ounce of effort they could into their careers and this has been their reward.
A life of eternal responsibility, as some of them might call it, a never-ending battle.
There isn't a single one of them that would choose otherwise, not while there's still work to be done, not while there's still people that need their help.
The atmosphere is… tense.
Most of them have already arrived, the Lanterns and Hawks sat opposite each other, the fastest man alive taking the last seat on the left, Zatarra across from him.
The magician pretends he isn't getting too old for this but his joints creak as he tries to make himself comfortable. It isn't an easy thing, not when the man who inspired him to take up the fight is just sitting there, quiet and pensive.
Batman has his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his thumbs, knuckles pressed against each other. His polar opposite sits just a chair away on his left, the Kryptonian looking just as tense as Zatarra feels.
The magician wants to say something, to see if some discussion could be had before the minutes get started but he knows that would just earn him a glare from some of the more militarily inclined members of their group.
A pair of captains, a lieutenant, a pilot, an infantry man, and just on his right is an actual king.
He spares a glance at Arthur but just like everyone else, he is quiet, his green eyes fixed on the door, waiting for their remaining members
All they are missing is Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Red Tornado, and Martian Manhunter.
Zatarra knows what this meeting will be about, they all do.
The… dimensional refugees.
While many of the League doubt the existence of other dimensions, Giovanni Zatarra has known of them for some time.
He has seen the Hells, he knows of the Pit, the fires inside and though he will not know the light of Heaven until his passing, he has felt the almighty's presence since he first learned the ways of magic.
He has read of the Dreaming, the land of Nightshade, Azerath, Asgard; he has not been to these places but he knows they exist.
And multiple earths?
Hardly a leap for a mind as studied as his own.
He crosses his arms as he leans back, head tilted to the ceiling, wondering what this means in the grand scope of the cosmos.
Multiple earths either implies that there are multiple Gods or that the Creator above has deigned to craft many a world since Eden.
Giovanni knows what he believes and regardless, theological discussion isn't likely going to be a topic for today's meeting.
Finally, after maybe a few more minutes, the rest of the League arrive, Wonder Woman leading the other two, Green Arrow and Martian Manhunter just a step behind,
Both of them are carrying heavy looking binders.
Superman turns to look at them, his eyes following them as they make it to their seats, his voice booming in the atrium.
"Will Red Tornado and Captain Marvel not be joining us?" he asks.
Predictably, it's Batman that answers him.
"Red Tornado will be staying in Mount Justice for the foreseeable future," he grunts, voice like gravel. "And Captain Marvel is handling a case of mine."
Several in the room wonder what possible case Captain Marvel of all people could be helping with but they know better than to ask. Batman would only deflect.
"I'll be sure to get them up to speed," he adds and then, as Martian Manhunter and the others take their seats, he stands. "We all know why we're here."
The Caped Crusader is met with a series of nods.
"Approximately four days ago, five unidentified metahumans appeared in Happy Harbor, their arrival coerced an interaction between Kid Flash and themselves, an interaction that quickly turned hostile when he correctly identified a hostage."
On one end of their table, the Flash shifts a bit closer, his breath a little uneven. Giovanni almost has it in him to smile, with how the rest of his colleagues have brought children into this war, he often forgets just how close they can be.
That urge to smile fades when Batman continues, when the magician wonders what his daughter would have done in the speedster's stead.
"One of these metahumans immediately opened fire, Kid Flash managed to avoid injury, effectively disarmed her, and then made for a tactical retreat when two sets of powers were used against him."
Silently, many of the League grimace.
Violence isn't something many of them revel in, well, maybe the Hawks might enjoy it, but the rest would prefer to handle things peacefully when they can.
But given that the unknowns' first instinct was to fight, it… it paints them in a less than ideal light.
"Thankfully," Batman continues, either heedless of or ignoring the atmosphere, "Cooler heads prevailed, their hostage was released after a brief skirmish with Superboy—" several heads turn to the Kryptonian, "—and one of their number acted as a liaison with Robin and Kid Flash. She surrendered amicably and helped in the negotiation of the other's standing down and their detainment."
Batman sits and as he does so, Wonder Woman stands, taking over the presentation with open arms.
"Following this, their hostage, another metahuman, gave her statement to myself and Black Canary. She explained who the other metahumans were and where they came from."
Many lean closer then, listening with rapt attention. They'd heard rumors of course, try as they might, Hal and Oliver are gluttons for gossip, but there's a difference between what two men might have heard and what a magical lasso and mindscan could verify.
"They come from another universe," Diana nods at Green Arrow then and reaching into the binder he'd brought with him, the League's other billionaire inserts a flashdrive into the port in front of him.
A moment later, the projectors in front of every chair light, hardlight screens flashing into existence.
And on every single one of them is the same image.
A rendering of the planet below.
Earth.
Though with some noticeable differences.
The landmasses largely appear the same but looking at the countries, the tectonics, the longer you look at it, the less it seems real.
The less it seems possible.
"Earth Bet," Wonder Woman continues, "A parallel earth, one in which metahumans do not appear on record until the mid 1980's."
"I'd say there's more differences than that," the first Green Lantern squints at the projection, one finger spinning the globe. "They've still got the USSR but Mordovia is…" he pauses, "Am I reading this right? The whole Republic's a quarantine zone?"
"Yes," Martian Manhunter answers, voice grave. "A price their Russians paid to contain The Sleeper."
"The who?" Captain Atom's voice is heavy with suspicion, his eyes narrowed.
"Please save any and all questions until after the presentation," Batman's stern warning is enough to calm the nuclear man, his silver body clicking against the metal of his chair as he leans back, quantum eyes fixed on where Hal had pointed. "J'onn, you have the floor."
"Thank you," Martian Manhunter stands as the projection on every screen suddenly fills the largest holoprojector, an image of this new planet rotating in the gap of their table. "As Wonder Woman stated, the primary divergence of this universe in comparison to our own is the complete and utter lack of powered individuals until roughly May of 1982."
The image fuzzes then, rotating to show the Atlantic ocean.
"In this universe, there has been no confirmation of any extraterrestrial or magical life forms, no Martians, no Kryptonians, no Amazons; nothing that even resembled a metahuman until—"
The image zooms in, a fuzzy rendering of a golden man appearing over the water's surface.
His form is…imperfect, while J'onn is definitely one of the more artistically inclined members of his team, the human anatomy is something that still eludes him. At least on paper.
Still, it gets the job done.
He is a golden man, his hair long and uninhibited, the strands the same color as his face and eyes. His body is… even through the haze of J'onn's skill, they can all see what it's meant to be.
Utterly flawless, strength carried through every inch of him, the power almost belaying the sadness in his features.
Appropriately, the world's first hero seems tired.
"Scion."
The name echoes in the atrium and as the League examines this hero before them, J'onn continues.
"Appearing on May 20th, 1982, Scion immediately began acting as a hero around their world. Stopping armed conflicts between nations, disarming all nuclear warheads and discouraging further development into those weapons."
The image shifts, various blurbs of text rising along his sides, denoting his strength, durability, and known powers.
"Since his arrival, he has not once shown any grievous injury nor has he focused his powers into a more lethal intent. His physical strength is currently unknown but presumed to be far superior than the next strongest metahumans on their planet."
Several in the room shift, Superman leans in closer and Captain Atom does the same, looks of curiosity and suspicion passing on their faces.
"In addition to his physical abilities, he has shown the powers of flight, wide-area instantaneous disintegration, senses far beyond what his physical form would suggest, instantaneous regeneration and healing of human tissue, and while his conflicts with other metahumans are fewer than most of his world, he has shown to be largely immune to most powers used against him."
"Okay," Green Lantern nods at the explanation, "So their Superman shows up a bit earlier and with a different kit, how's all that lead to the rest of this?"
Hal ignores the glare thrown his way, Batman might scare most of the table but he's long-since gotten used to the trademark Bat intimidation style.
"I mean look at all this," the guardian of sector 2814 swipes through the data packet in front of him. "Countries fallen to ruin, economic collapse all but certain— sure, losing Atlantis and Themyscira and all the other…" he looks at the two natives to both those places, shrugging as he continues, "...weird places, that's gonna form ripples but this…"
His eyes are locked on to a little town in their California, some place called Freedom.
Some place Coast City should be… but instead it's been designated a 'no man's land.'
"This doesn't make any sense."
"If I may have the floor?" Green Arrow asks the room, waiting for a nod from J'onn before he stands, his throat clearing as he looks at his teammates.
"Their metahumans— parahumans, it's…" he looks around the table, sighing. "I know most of you haven't gotten a chance to meet with them but those kids… they're scared."
As eyes turn to look at him, Oliver steels himself, he hadn't intended to lead this part of the presentation but so be it. After all, he helped J'onn with the binder. One of them anyway.
"Look, I know they didn't give us the best first impression, but punch first and run away isn't usually a sign we're dealing with someone in the best headspace."
The blonde chooses to ignore the grunt from Hawkman, the Thangarian's eyes skeptical behind his helmet.
"These kids, they're—" the archer takes a deep breath then, he's read the forms over and over again, he's talked with Clark, Diana, and Bruce, he knows what they heard has to be true but it still rattles him to even think about "They get powers differently where they come from."
"They don't get it from some freak lab accident, some governmental test gone wrong; they don't get their powers given to them by forces of good or gods they… they get their powers at their lowest moment."
Taking another breath, Oliver tries not to let his own humanity weigh him down. Aside from Bruce, he's the only one here without powers and while some days that gets to him, makes him wonder what he could do with his colleagues abilities, hearing how Parahumans get their strength, it…
He tries not to think of the island as he clears his throat.
"It's called a Trigger Event," he explains, "It's the moment your life couldn't get any worse, when you're pushed to the edge. It's trauma in its rawest form, the worst thing that's ever happened to you. It's… I'm not doing a good enough job explaining it, I don't think any of us can really understand something like that without going through it ourselves but it's… think about the worst thing that could happen to you. Think about the time you were most scared in your life and imagine it going a little worse."
The room quiets, considering it, all of their minds drifting back to their lowest points, cradling loved ones on the brink of death, fighting for their lives against an unstoppable foe, staring up at a gun, the barrel still smoking.
They don't have to think long about it.
About how it could be worse.
"And you're still wrong," Green Arrow cuts through their thoughts, his own mind reeling as he shakes his head. "It's worse than that, whatever you've got in your head, it probably isn't enough."
His explanation gets the room to quiet and as the silence echoes, Giovanni Zatara can't help but push himself forward.
"All of them?" He asks, hoping for a denial. Hoping that the kids they'd arrested weren't— they were barely older than his daughter.
"Yes," Batman confirms, always there to answer the hardest questions, to let the fear break against him. "So far none of them are willing to discuss their trigger events and we aren't going to push that."
Gotham's protector stands next, he doesn't bother asking for the floor, he knows the others would cede it.
"Until we can confirm otherwise, we need to assume that every powered individual in their world is a parahuman and since all parahumans manifest their abilities from their deepest trauma then it stands to reason that their world is deeply unbalanced."
"And getting worse," J'onn adds. "Parahumans vary wildly in strength, some powerful enough that it might take the entire League to bring them down and some weak enough they can be handled by a single trained gunman. The problem isn't their strength however, it's their numbers."
No one misses how the Martian's form ripples as he looks at them, his normal uncannyness dipping into something truly alien as he continues, the faintest echo of worry in his voice.
"The six I interviewed last night are only adolescents, their knowledge of their world is imperfect and incomplete but even using their most conservative estimates: I believe there are no less than half a million powered individuals on Earth Bet."
"That can't be—" Hawkman starts and clearing his throat, he continues, armor shifting as he stands. "That number isn't sustainable, I don't care how powerful their Scion is; if any one person can gain powers that would require all of us together to put down then their world is—
"I will provide a collection of threats as soon as I am able," J'onn's voice is hard like iron as he glares at the Thanagarian, red eyes seeming to glow. "but I believe we must move on to the more tangible matters at hand."
Reluctantly, Hawkman sits down, his wings ruffled as she crosses his arms.
"The six parahumans that entered our world are only children, powered though they may be, they still need a guiding hand. Many of them have been coerced into criminal activities, some more so than others but regardless of the crimes they may or may not have taken part in, it is our responsibility to help them, at least until we can find them a way home."
"Should we even do that?" surprisingly, it's the Flash that asks the question, one of his feet anxiously tapping the floor as leans up straighter. "Look, I understand we need to form a portal somehow, we need to give them the opportunity to leave, but this Earth Bet is—"
His blue eyes blur as he looks over the screen, its light almost too slow for him as his finger swipes through it a hundred times a second.
"—it's hell. Once you read about it, it feels— we can't just send them back there! We need to help, we need to—"
"Other Earths aren't our responsibility," Hawkwoman states, her husband nodding with her. "Maybe if they pose a threat to this world we can intervene but only then. What does it say to their governments if we step in unannounced?"
"Hypotheticals like that are only ever used to justify inaction," Giovanni replies, uncaring of the looks he gets from Arthur and Atom. "But regardless, forming a way back is several months off at least."
"You're sure?" The Flash asks, a quiet relief in his voice as Hal shifts a little closer to him.
Zatarra nods.
"I have scanned the area with all the spells I have available to me, I can sense that the veil between worlds has been frayed, but reality has since reinstated itself. Perhaps a suitable ritual could be developed in time but magical research is often even slower than science."
"And that has its own risks," Batman adds, "Presenting the idea of multiple universes to the world at large may incur investigation from parties that would use the knowledge for their own ends. I've begun looking into forming a small team of researchers but I'm still in the preliminary phase."
"Let's get back to the matter at hand," Wonder Woman swipes through the screen in front of her and the holoprojector in the middle fuzzes, the image of Earth Bet and Scion replaced with the sextet, five of them in costume and one left in civilian clothing. "Of the six parahumans, five confessed to being a part of the villain team known as 'The Undersiders,' while the sixth claims to be a part of a hero team based in the same city, known as 'New Wave.'"
"J'onn," the amazon turns to the Martian, offering him a hand, "I believe you would know more about each than I would."
"Yes," the Martian Manhunter agrees, standing again, cloak billowing as he sets his hands on the table in front of him, green fingers splayed. "But before we continue, I feel I must state what I believe is the just and proper action. Though splitting this group might seem advantageous in the short-term, I do not believe that would be in their best interest."
Before any argument can be brokered, the Martian continues, voice harder.
"I understand why you may all feel otherwise but I have walked inside their minds, as shallow as they allowed, I felt…" he pauses, inhaling as he steadies himself. "They are the only ones in this world, this whole universe, that can truly understand each other's pains. To separate that, to deny it, it may breed resentment, fear; anger. Guidance is something we must offer but not at the cost of complete separation."
"Black Canary," Batman starts, gesturing to the League's semi-practicing therapist. "Do you agree?"
The blonde hero shifts as the League turns their attention to her, her heels clicking as she stands.
"So far I've only had a few sessions with Amy, the sixth meta—parahuman and… to be honest I'm not sure."
She shakes her head, fingers coming together as she looks at the others.
"There's a reason why we don't let adolescents exchange information when they're in the hospital together, trauma has a tendency to produce powerful bonds and oftentimes, when people are at their lowest, that can breed codependency. Normally, I'd highly advise against letting them stay together but… these are extenuating circumstances."
Mostly she's met with a nods, a few words of affirmation here and there, but there are some that stays silent, keeping their opinions to themselves.
"My advice is to bring them in under a tight mentoring program, meetings with one of us several times a week, maybe even offering a temporary living space for the ones we're taking charge of, possible alternate living arrangements can be discussed for those of us that don't have the space but that's my recommendation. For the time being they stay in the Cave but we need to keep a close eye on them."
"Agreed," Batman nods, his cowl turning to the others. "Any objections?"
When the room stays quiet, he turns his eyes back to J'onn.
"You may proceed."
The Martian nods back as he taps the screen, five of the six parahumans projected disappearing and leaving just the tallest to stand there, his black leather costume fuzzing as the helmet is removed, showing the person beneath the mask.
"Grue," J'onn introduces,"Brian Laborn, leader of the Undersiders. He claims to be eighteen years old and has the ability to generate large swathes of odorless darkness."
A pale imitation of this power grows in the projection, smoke wafting off his shoulders and obscuring his face.
"This darkness has the uncanny ability to smother all light and sound that would fall inside it and while his exposure to it had been brief, Kid Flash reported a feeling of vertigo when he was subjected to it, his sense of direction distorted."
The smoke fades and Martian Manhunter continues.
"While he has shown the ability to generate enough of this darkness to blot out whole blocks, it can be sufficiently mitigated by strong enough winds."
As the projection flickers, the Undersider's image static between the League, Batman speaks up.
"I would like to take him in," the vigilante states, voice blunt as Hal snickers.
"Shoulda figured, spooky," the pilot laughs. "Power like that, bet you wish you had it."
The Lantern manages not to grunt as both men next to him elbow his stomach.
Batman ignores the comment as he explains himself.
"His powerset could be enhanced by the kind of tactics I employ but more than that, I believe he needs something structured, something that won't fail him. I am prepared to guide him."
"Would…" Zatarra stutters before leaning closer, one wrist flicking to his side. "Would Robin be content with that situation?"
"He's already been made aware of the possibility," Batman replies and then, as Zatarra's eyes narrow, he adds, "He's looking forward to it."
When no one else chimes in, J'onn continues, the figure of Grue replaced by a much shorter boy, his costume less leather and more ren faire, with a white billowing shirt with puffy sleeves, dark pants, and boots that reach just above his knees.
His mask is a porcelain smirk and as it's removed, the League sees a similar expression just beneath.
"Regent, Alec Merceau, member of the Undersiders, he claims to be fifteen and has the ability to make someone trip or stumble on sight, their muscles spasming at his command."
"Is that it?" Captain Atom asks, his eyes flicking between the Martian and the projection. "I can see how that might be useful in a bind but… it's underwhelming compared to the big one."
"Parahuman powers can vary wildly," J'onn replies. "But as far as mentorship, I highly recommend a woman, someone who neither has nor is seeking a partnership with a man. I will not go into details but from what I could sense, he has not had a kind upbringing, and the likelihood he may… fawn over a male mentor is not insignificant."
Several uncomfortable looks are exchanged at that, in their line of work it isn't terribly uncommon to come across the worst kind of people, those that would hurt children, but looking at the boy in front of them… it feels different somehow.
"I am willing," Wonder Woman states, her hand held high. "He and I had a somewhat amicable conversation after he answered my questions, I believe I can offer the support he may need."
Again, no objections are said.
And that's how the rest of their meeting goes, they discuss each parahuman, their names, powers, the best suited to act as their mentor.
Rachel Lindt is to be guided by Diana, Amy Dallon is to stay with Dinah Lance, Lisa Wilbourn will have a joint mentorship under both Martian Manhunter and Barry Allen, and Taylor Hebert is to be at least partially guided Oliver Queen but mostly by an unlikely suggestion.
"Ted Kord," Batman repeats, the image of Taylor Hebert shifting to the side as a rather plain-looking man stands next to her. He's thin, wearing a lab coat, slacks, and a bright blue button up shirt. He has red curly hair and a bright demeanor. "Protege of Dan Garret, the Blue Beetle of the Justice Society."
"Is he even a hero?" Oliver asks, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Kord Industries might provide some tech here and there but it's been five years since Dan passed and I don't see him wearing the suit."
"He isn't ready," Batman answers, "Yet. Kord has been spending most of his time training when he isn't working and when I approached him regarding the incursion, he expressed interest."
"Maybe into the actual science," The Flash cuts in, "But I've met Ted and he's… look, he's good people but you're asking him to be a mentor when he hasn't even gone out yet. We don't even know if he even will and taking on a teenager is… that's a task unto itself."
"I know he's an unorthodox candidate," Batman replies, his cowl turning from Flash back to Green Arrow, "But he's more versed in entomology than myself or anyone else at this table, if we're going to be allowing them into the field, they need to have access to the best tools we can give."
"This of course hinges on any of them agreeing," Superman says, one hand rising up to pinch at his brow. "But I think it's best if we… shelve this discussion for now. I'm needed back in Metropolis, we can reconvene later this week."
As the Man of Steel stands, the rest of the room seems to agree, each of them moving to leave.
As the heroes funnel out, the sound of the zeta tube already announcing Flash's departure, Batman stops, putting a hand on J'onn's shoulder.
"There's a lot you're not telling us," he says, voice laden with suspicion as the doors close, leaving the two of them alone, the stars outside glittering in the distance. "What can you tell me?"
"I…" J'onn pauses as he stands straighter, his posture suddenly larger as he looks down at Batman. "When I was in their minds, I sensed… a presence."
The zeta tube continues to announce the rest of the League's departure, each of them vanishing back to where they're needed.
"I am not sure how worried we should be," J'onn continues, voice quieter as the conversation shifts, his lips closing as his thoughts echo between them "What I felt was not actively malicious but it seemed… impassive, not at all dissimilar to Captain Marvel's patrons."
"What are the chances they become a problem?" Bruce Wayne asks, his mind's voice a blending of his two personas.
For a long moment J'onn doesn't reply.
"We'll have to wait and see."
Author's Note: Hello again!
And also fuck this chapter! This chapter did not want to play with me, this chapter was mean, it was hard to write, and I think it actively wanted to cause me harm!
And to top it all off, I have no idea if any of this is very good!
All I can say is that I really tried with this but I understand if it sucks balls, again, this chapter wanted to hurt me.
But yeah… I tried.
And I learned some weird things about the YJ timeline, like that Black Canary is eight years younger than Ollie, which I guess is fine between a 24 year old and a 32 year old but that's still strange, right?
Anyhoozle, I tried and I know there's gonna be a lot of people that are dissatisfied with the chapter and I can't blame you not one bit.
Why am I not splitting up the team? I gave an explanation in chapter but a lot of it is because it would be fucking difficult to write if they weren't all still in the same closeish space.
Why am I giving them mentors at all then? They fucking need them, I would hope if the Protectorate had resources to spare, they'd offer a mentorship to all young heroes.
Was it difficult to write so many different voices? Yes and I'm not sure if it works, the first 2k of this are definitely a Martian Manhunter interlude, the rest of it is mostly a Justice League one but I think Zatarra adds a bit too much of his perspective before the meeting starts.
That said, it was fun to actually have Hal say more than one fucking word the whole series so you take the good with the bad.
Should they talk about the Endbringers, the Slaughterhouse, all that jazz, yes, that's what they're doing tonight but I didn't want to have 4k of 'fucking hell that's shitty' in the middle of this. Plus I think the League would devote more of their focus on what they can actually deal with rn.
Okay, that's enough rambling about how this chapter isn't my best.
Anyways, if you're still interested in Peristalsis after this fic:
Join us next time (this Thursday) for the beginning of Arc 3: Replication. It's a minor timeskip (3 weeksish) and the Undersiders are helping guard the transport of some disassembled robot.
As always, grammar and spelling mistakes should be pointed out but continuity errors should have me beaten.
As a sidenote, I almost pity what would happen to Nikos Vasil if J'onn made it to Earth Bet.