Further Adventures of the Lair Legion #2, a double-sized issue!

Posted by Fin Fang Foom on April 27, 2001 at 21:26:16:

Further Adventures of the Lair Legion #2
Brave the winter, however invisible it may be...

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"I dream of fire, those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire, and in the fire, her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire."--Sting, Desert Rose

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"Die."

He never thought bowing would hurt this much. There was shame, humiliation, and a sense of failure--that had been expected. But the ground itself caused pain--torn pants meant bare knees, and his fingernails dug into burning sand. The whip cracked his skin like plaster, blood bubbling out.

The stale, unchanging desert clashed with billowing, lively black clouds. There was no life here, unless the disparate souls who populated Tachon's slave army counted--and to him, they didn't. Only one man dared to break the long line of individuals--the man who was now trapped between failing muscles and red-hot dunes.

The guards allowed their captives to murmur as the torture went on--best for them to see an example. Black-clothed men swaddled in leather bandaging stood over them, riding sandcrab-like hover-platforms. Their belts held coiled whips and ornate pistols, which matched their khaki-and-ebony vehicles. One guard settled into his platform--he descended into the black cushioning of its single seat, and its eye-like headlights shone on some of the rowdier prisoners. While the thunderclouds blotted out the sun, it was still roasting--the added solar lamp warmth caused them to settle down.

A medium-sized crab--one with legs and pincers--lumbered towards the slaves, out of the mining tunnel it had dug. Its claws opened, revealing rows of missiles. A hover-platform flew out from it, larger than the other small-bed-sized crafts.

Sand sprang up as it landed, and a man stepped out. Like the others, he was masked in a brown hood that trailed down his neck, and stopped just above his eyes--a black headband kept it in place. He had similar material covering his neck, mouth, and nose. To the casual observer, this man might be indistinguishable from the other guards--but the white mark on his headband gave him away as Tachon, the Desert Fox.

"One man? My entire operation slows to watch one man getting his due?" His voice was muffled through the fabric, and only his eyes could reveal any expression--but they were shrouded in shadow, brown and white hiding in the darkness.

The guards only spoke to him, save for two commands intended for their slaves--"work" and "die". They whispered their innocence, pleading for him to understand that they just wanted to induce fear.

One by one, the prisoners looked towards the clouds, hoping for rain. Tachon knew it was false hope--just as the sky teased and tempted them, so the ground did for him. His mining operation had been in operation for weeks, searching fruitlessly. The mystery of what was contained, be it in land or sky, was endless in possibility--but seemingly unattainable as well.

The man they'd been whipping was nearly dead--he writhed helplessly on the sand, surrendering his wounds to the intense heat he found himself pressed against.

He straightened the holster on his belt. "Kill him, and get back to work--they already know what we can do to them."

His men did nothing.

Tachon prepared to speak, but the gentle buzzing of the wind had been replaced by a distant rumbling--thunder? He repeated his command more loudly--but the sound was near-deafening, and his lips were covered, they couldn't be read.

Something other than himself had captured their attention and overwhelmed their senses--this couldn't be allowed. He removed his pistol, which was patterned on one from the previous century. He fired into the air repeatedly, letting his gun speak for him--no use wasting his breath on this rabble.

They didn't turn. There was no recognition, no acknowledgement, just an indistinctive blare. Higher-pitched, whip-like cracks rolled off the arid air. They sounded like an endless chain of fireworks, each going off within a split-second of the previous one.

Seventy-foot-tall crab robots began to falter as the ground shook, and their long legs rose and fell, buckling. Tachon was still silently emptying ammunition into the air, as if he was waiting for people to react to his sheer willpower.

A cloud of dust kicked up on what was only technically a horizon--with miles of flatness, it looked as if the land far away was on the edge of the world, met only by sky. The clouds of sand grew larger, and Tachon thought it was an actual rainstorm, with wind kicking it up--something natural.

In a sense, he was correct.

Shadows without sunlight grew long, rapidly approaching the crowd--they were stretched-out and featureless. For a moment, they wondered what was causing them--the sun was still well-hidden.

Tiny dots of red, which soon grew to full size, answered their question.

Transparent, glowing red horses approached--they were smooth and only had the basic shape of the animal. Inside them, neon red lightning kept their sides stitched together, dancing and flickering. A cool wind traveled before them, giving relief to the slaves. The one who'd been tortured was watching his life escape through the cuts they'd made, and could only manage the strength to make a small motion with his eyes, to see who these newcomers were.

When he'd identified them, he knew he would live.

Eleven riders in all--as they stopped, so stopped the thunder.

A huge man wrapped in black leather pointed a war-club of some kind at Tachon. "Desert Fox! Thou profanes the name of one whom my mother has given shelter? Thou art no hunter--nay, merely a scurrying, scavenging insect, trying to horde others into doing thy work. Face me--face the Oldmanson, and the Lair Legion!"

Tachon realized his gun was still up in the air--he quickly withdrew his arm, and tried to figure out what to do--this was just a small contingent of his army, he could afford to lose them...

"He's scared--and looking for something. Something to add onto another weapon...but it's not here. He wants it to be, but it isn't...he's fooling himself." Ziles silenty, empathically spoke in raw ideas rather than concrete language.

Draconic vocal cords caught Tachon's attention, as Fin Fang Foom's interdimensional-energy horse reared. "Free them. Unconditionally."

Tachon needed time--time to warm up his powers. "How'd you find us?"

The dragon's face faintly registered disappointment. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

Hatman nodded at Goldeneyed and CrazySugarFreakBoy!, who both reacted at incredible speeds--CSFB!'s horse turned into a trampoline, he rocketed into the air as Goldeneyed disappeared in a sparkling blink.

The medium-sized robotic crabs--actually the largest ones there, the biggest one, which served as their home, was currently in the Atlantic--began to lay still, as unconscious pilots piled up underneath them in golden brilliance. CSFB! plummeted towards one of the crabs, vibrated right through, grabbed the pilots, and continued his intangible descent with them in hand. His yo-yo wrapped around a crab's leg, and he swung up, repeating the maneuver--with so many innocents around, they couldn't go all-out, their best bet was to take away their enemies' main weapons.

In less than thirty seconds, all the weapon-packing crabs were unmanned.

The dragon sighed. "Your guns and whips won't do anything to us, and your giant manga-robo-whatever crabs are dead. Your options are as follows--you can surrender and not get hurt, fight us and get hurt, or you can try to pull a hostage situation and really get hurt. Or my personal favorite--you all seem to have those little hover-crabs, so you can try to run."

Ziles ' silvery suit reflected the black and brown of the scene. "The guards are waiting for orders, they won't do anything without serious provocation. But I'm getting bad vibes from Tachon..."

"Hattie, rush him." He switched caps, and was gone in an instant. Donar and Trickshot were getting impatient--their horses were going back and forth, side to side...Finny's horse trotted over to them. "Would you rather beat up on cannon fodder or take the fight to their boss?"

Trickshot shrugged. "Either way, kid, as long as we get to have some fun...more bad guys to whup on, more fun, I figure."

Donar shook his head. "Trouble myself with lackeys? Nay."

"Umm, shouldn't we be fighting?" Nats looked around, waiting for an attack.

"Relax--Exile's on defense. Culture is different here, they won't act without orders from their master--whom we're currently kicking the crap out of. Our first goal is to scare them away from the prisoners."

It had taken Hatman less than four seconds to get to the hundred-punch-limit which he used on non-physically-powered beings--the impromptu cyclone spat out a battered Tachon, right at the Lair Legion's feet.

The Dark Knight dropped whatever human pretense his voice had, and addressed the guards. "Run."

They did--whatever advantages splitting up gave them, dropping their human shield far outweighed it as a problem. Finny waited for a moment, and turned to Sorceress. "Drop them."

She grinned, her hands charging with stained-glass-looking energy. "Any preferences?"

"The obvious--non-lethal, and not too destructive, with that crowd still near."

With some macical help, the fuel in their hover-platforms turned to water, and they each got to crash-land, driving up heaps of soft sand to cushion the fall. Before they could get on their feet, the LL's "superfast offense" hit them--Hatman, CSFB!, and Goldeneyed floored them before they could even react.

The energy-horses disappeared--Exile restrained Tachon with ID-energy shackles, and grabbed the Desert Fox by his shirt. "I didn't think you were for-hire...must be a special client. Mind telling us who, Foxy?"

A gleam in the sky heralded salvation for Tachon. "Not today, no."

Vapor escaped from his mouth and eyes, and he collapsed lifelessly. Exile stepped back, surprised. "I didn't do it!!"

The Dark Knight looked up into the sky--the others followed. "He's not dead--the body is, but not the mind. I've seen that trick, expunging your consciousness like that...but it wasn't to another body, at least near us. Ziles, are we clean?" She nodded. "He must have kicked himself into a satellite--distance is nothing in mysticism, just as easy to put your mind into something hundreds of miles up in the air."

Finny grumbled quietly as Hattie put on his Red Cross cap, so he could help the injured. "Alert SPUD, so they can get these people to some serious medical attention--and water for that matter." He walked over to DK, making sure they couldn't be overheard. "Is Ziles herself?"

"I wondered that myself--but the mannerisms and body language match, and her powers have automatic defenses against mental takeovers."

The team regrouped--the guards were all unconscious and disarmed. Finny signaled the Lairjet to drop out of its orbit, and spoke to the team. "Looks like we've got trouble, people--those crabs were among the inventory of Rory Pagliano's database, the courier that was delivering weapons that someone was going to use to kill Ziles. They thought she was The Enemy...given the hunters' connection through Rory, I'm willing to bet that Tachon is working with them--maybe Rory set it up, maybe they met through him. We know that the Enemy-hunters were looking for better weaponry, and Tachon was looking for an add-on to a powerful weapon...no coincidence, I'm sure. Chances are, they've realized their mistake and will try to find the real Enemy--and maybe miss again, and target another innocent."

Hatman nodded. "From what Ziles has told us, they're loose cannons. I don't like the idea of them getting even more powerful weapons...least of all the Death-killing sword. Whitney remembered that the sword is more powerful with an add-on gem, so that could be what they're after. All we have to go on is a name: Azule-Arach. He--or she--was playing middleman for the sale, somehow. The address that the weapon sale took place at was nothing, Ziles and DK both came up empty."

"The Lairjet should have picked up the satellite that we saw--Exile, take Ziles and check it out--make sure you've got mental defenses ready, could be a trap."

A red, interdimensional-energy force-field enveloped both of them, and they ascended through the clouds.

Nats stood next to Donar, and felt several inches tall compared to the Ausgardian. "So, uhh, what now?"

The Dark Knight climbed into the Lairjet. "We find out what's really going on here, as well as how dangerous these Enemy-hunters are--if they're willing to blow away whatever innocent victims stand between them and their target, we stop them."

"Yeah, that sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon..." Nats half-flew and half-jumped into the cabin, and hoped CSFB! hadn't brought his comics along...

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It was the strangest sweatshop in the world.

The journey to it was difficult--it took place outside of space and time, in what some called fabric--and one man called a web. A lone figure sprinted across the gossamer strands, the ambient light masking what was far away, while shining upon the sparkling, several-foot-thick webbing.

To his perception, an endless ocean of lines made up this space between realities. He could see neither their beginning or end, just thick strings that went from right to left. If there was "ground" or "ceiling", it was incredibly far away. As far as his enhanced eyes could see, the lines were above him, below him, to the side of him...

It was like running on morning dew--vaguely cool, still fresh, looking like some ethereal cross between liquid and matter. He chose his strands carefully--they were not merely for show, but were almost like the rings of a tree.

The common threads were there--in the reality he was now travelling to, the birth of civilization on earth had been in the middle east, aliens had mostly avoided the planet, China and Japan had stayed still at first, while the Europeans spread, slavary had been abolished, and the planet was still in one piece.

Each time he touched a webline, he knew this--they were what held certain realities closer to each other than others. Sometimes, aliens had come too soon, and many weblines disappeared out from under him, causing the reality to drift off into a more unrecognizable state, as it shared less links with its multiversal neighbors. And this was just earth's set of circumstance-strands, the universe's were even more complex...

It was a shadowless realm--the ghost-like strands were all mildly transparent, light passed freely through them, and a muted rainbow of sparkles occasionally flared within them. The being who considered himself more spider than human put an ear to the thread he was now on, soaking up its information. He had grown up here, it was second nature to him--feeling the heartbeat of existence.

He wore the ceremonial garb of the Arachs--a bodysuit which covered him, including navy blue, omni-eyed mask lenses. He was Azule-Arach--most of his suit was powder blue, with jagged black, spider-leg-like lines trailing all over, emphasizing his lean muscles. On his mask, a black triangle went down from the bridge of his nose, and ended in a half-circle around his jaw, almost like a section of a pie chart.

The reality he was travelling to was almost identical to its neighbor--every thread was continued exactly the same, save for one. To a normal person, it would all look the same--trillions of incredibly long weblines. But to Azule-Arach, they were in patterns--weavings and placings that revealed the main details of a reality. They were virtually constellations, natural occurences combining into a larger, symbolic picture. Xander's Song was a series of four-webs/one-gap/one half-diagonal patterns, while the wrapping threads of Solarimi revealed the continental drift of a planet in any given reality.

In the center of each cobweb was the reality itself--Azule-Arach soon ran into one, it was a huge blob of white which all the threads descended into.

All but one.

If he weren't going to the sweatshop, he would have ran on a thread that didn't connect, so he wouldn't have to make his way across an entire reality. But his destination laid within the confines of this existencescape...

He jumped off the web--without time, the fall could have taken him seconds or millenia. At any rate, he enjoyed the lack of freezing wind rushing by him, as there wasn't enough air to provide resistance. He fell through hundreds of thousands of tightly-packed weblines, searching for the right one...

Amidst a cluster of loose, drooping lines that made up the belly of the Triceraworld pattern, the thread lay--he shot out a webline from his fingertips, latching onto it. He swung to it, and as soon as he touched down, he knew his quarry had travelled this path. He felt the similarities and differences--the latter of which weren't major enough to warrant their own thread yet, as the changes had been induced by someone not from that dimension. The shining strand was purple with culture, and other strands bobbed close to it--those of desperate, poverty-stricken workers.

Black-and-red flickers erupted within the webbing--it was his target. Azule-Arach slid down the webline, and was enveloped by the inner rings of the cobweb--beyond it, there was another cobweb, and more after that, just another part of an infinite, linked series.

Reality wavered, and the dust Azule-Arach landed in froze from the extreme chill carried through the portal. The lack of perception judgment momentarily blinded him--he wasn't used to literal realities, just the reliant-on-interpretation gaps between them.

Melting snow dripped into the alley he now occupied, sunlight could be seen in the street. He spun on his heels--his quarry had landed here only seconds earlier, and could be anywhere.

Bystanders didn't notice him--avoiding their perceptions was an easy matter, they were self-absorbed, or distracted with external matters. No use taking chances, however. He leapt to a fire escape, scaling the windowless building-side.

The rooftop was like any other--snow mixed with feathers and dusty rock. He walked on top of the snow, his feet never sinking into it, as untold ages of experience had taught him to freely distribute his mass. After running across slippery, other-dimensional tightropes, balancing on snow was nothing.

He put a foot on the roof's raised edge, looking down. Multifaceted lenses, when combined with his visual abilities, made his quarry's movements more a testimony than a mystery. Azule-Arach had hoped to be wrong, that his target had stayed dead for once...

After flitting past the perceptions of several other humans, he leapt to another roof, then another. The sensation of explosions of brick under his feet replaced traditional footsteps, even the pigeons he rocketed past didn't notice him.

He approached a wide, low-lying building--it looked as if no-one had lived there for years. Half-dead weeds grew in the dirt around it, and the sidewalks around it were covered with unshovelled snow. Ugly metal doors adorned all sides of it.

An obvious realization dawned on Azule-Arach, or rather, he finally opened his eyes to it. One of the most dangerous beings in existence was in there--was this his destiny? When he'd hatched, a rumor had spread throughout the Hypernest, that this one would do a great work...

But...him? He didn't stand a chance...this person had ravaged planets, put permanent dents in existence. No, all Azule-Arach could do was keep him from figuring out where he was.

He slithered down an opening into the ventilation system, and followed the voices. Before long, he saw a long room filled with children. They were seated in pairs, facing each other, and reading from apparently-identical books.

"Kennedy killed, 1963."

"Same here."

Another pair. "War of 1812."

"Same."

Children with phone books. "Bobby Baker, 555-2451."

"Yeah."

With a glance, Azule-Arach discerned that one-half the books in the room were from another dimension.

"Bring me something, children. Anything. And you may live." The sole adult in the room, a young, college-aged man, supervised them. He could have been anyone, looking as painfully average as he did.

The children didn't mind--it paid more than most assembly lines, and they liked reading. It did get monotonous, however, and they often wondered if their benefactor was insane for having them read the same books to each other.

A Chinese boy perked up--he ran over to the man, two books in hand. "Look, they're different!"

It was a book of wedding records and birth records--the man scanned both pages several times. "Great, somebody married somebody else's sister...big difference." He sighed. "You're free to leave. As promised, you'll find today's pay in your boxes. Clear them out."

In seconds, the room was empty. The man vaporized the books with a wave of his hand, red energy with black lines pulsing from him. He flipped open a cel phone.

"Yeah, it's me. I finally decided...I'll sell you the building. I'll even include the furniture." A pause. "Sounds fair. Just have it transferred to my account, I'll be going away for awhile."

The phone was ground to powder in his hands. He glowed red and black, and his clothes melted away, revealing a dark suit underneath. He then turned to lines of the same colors, and vanished.

Time passed--Azule-Arach finally leapt out of the vent opening. He prepared for an attack, but none came. Nothing had been left behind, no office papers to rifle through, or phone records to check. It had to be frustrating--trying to find your way in an infinite amount of nearly-identical dimensions. He knew this man was looking for certain types of universes, and couldn't be allowed to find them. The larger the differences, the closer he'd get...but he was on the wrong track, so far. Looking for radical industrial and economic differences, and only finding minor "chance of fate" differences. People meeting or missing each other rather than societal differentials.

He closed his eyes, and saw the children--his visual powers allowed their whole beings to be embedded in his memory. Someday, they'd have to be interrogated. The memories would be too clouded with emotion for years to come, but eventually, they'd be of much use. He pitied them--at a later date, when they were in love, or starting at a new job, the other Arachs would come for them in the night. But it had to be done, the man could have dropped a loose comment, thinking no-one would ever remember it.

Now what? Track down the bank account he'd mentioned? With no clues, that could take weeks or months...no, just make a note of it. More important matters were pressing, he had to make sure that minor differences were all that stood between the majority of the multiverse.

All the major changes, the low probabilities--these had to be shoehorned into the Parodyverse. If they spilt over, detecting the differences would be far too easy, giving the enemies of the Arachs an advantage.

With a thought, he returned to his web outside of reality. He still had to make sure that the sword he'd provided would be used in his best interests. The trek to the Parodyverse would be a long one, and he had little time...

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He'd never imagined that the day would end like this.

Steam escaped asphalt as unusually-early sleet fell in waves, the cold water meeting and tangling with the post-summer heat embedded in Parodiopolis' streets. Under the wide tower of Saint Silver Hospital stood a small coffeehouse, which wrapped itself in a parade of cars waiting to drive-through. A navy-blue mercedes inched forward in line, its driver wishing the wait would never end.

The car held two men, both being the other's only family. No-one would have ever guessed they were grandfather and grandson. Dr. Kim Brand was a slim young man of Japanese ancestry, with understated facial features and small round glasses, while Dr. Patrick Brand was a white-haired caucasian man who'd been around for three-quarters of a century. Kim was driving, as Patrick could never figure out how to work the specially-designed car--it was made for those who couldn't use their legs.

Becoming a doctor had seemed natural for Kim--not only did he want to follow in his grandfather's footsteps, but he'd also spent most of his life at the hospital. First, it was to stop the infection in his one-year-old legs from spreading to his body. Then, he'd spent much time at his mother's bedside, as she slowly died from cancer.

From then on, it had just been him and grandpa. After school, he'd go to St. Silver's, and do his homework in his grandpa's large office. On his eighteenth birthday, during the summer before he went to med school, his grandpa had something big to tell him.

Kim thought it was about his father, whom he'd never met. He feared something could be wrong with his grandpa, leaving him totally alone.

It was neither.

The world slowed to a stop as his grandpa opened an old, oak chest, and pulled out a package. Leather bundling was tugged off, and a thick black cowl flopped out.

Kim had always know that walking wasn't everything. He could be effective as a doctor without the use of his legs, he didn't have any physical problems with his girlfriend, and he could drive. He'd never felt the need to walk--but he'd always known envy.

Until that moment, he'd thought he'd gotten rid of it.

His grandpa had once been Dr. Dark-Nite, one of the first costumed crimefighters in Parodiopolis. Kim had thought that he'd made a good start at continuing his grandfather's legacy, but suddenly believed he could no longer do it.

Through college and the trial-by-fire surgeries in St. Silver's, he finally accepted it. It was easy enough to realize that you can't have everything in life, but still...he felt like a disappointment. He knew his grandfather would love him no matter what, but he wanted to do more. No matter how many lives he saved as a doctor, something inside him would always feel empty...

It had been a usual morning--he'd read the note his girlfriend left on the fridge, gotten ready for work, and prepared for anything. Not only was he making rounds with patients, but he was also on-call for the emergency room. He thought nothing could surprise him, after all, he'd had to spend the night in his office before, as he feared getting too far away from a barely-alive patient, and he'd had to deal with every medical problem known to man, and then some.

His grandfather, still chief of surgery, had casually pulled him aside from it all. Patrick asked the nurses to take over, and contacted several other doctors to cover for his grandson. Patrick spoke of something which he discussed rarely, but significantly.

"Old friends."

Car-by-car, the line got shorter. Kim didn't want it to. He'd waited for this chance his whole life, but being there was a lot different from just imagining it. He didn't want to lose his status quo, he'd grown comfortable in it...

Before he knew it, he was handing a paper cup of coffee to his grandfather. He felt chilled, and was shaking, but it wasn't that cold. He could live with never getting the chance, he had lived with it. It had to remain an unattainable dream, something he'd grown out of, something he was too mature for. As long as he could never experience it, he'd never have anything to miss.

Puddles sprayed in watery spikes as the car travelled down the streets, gradually approaching the tourist traps and cheesy restaurants that lined the Atlantic. They stopped just short of the coast, turning on an empty street.

They drove through row upon row of warehouses, built over a half-century ago, before the zoning laws had changed. The vote to restrict most storage complexes and factories to Gothametropolis York would prove to be a major portion its economic undoing...

Segments of metal clacked upwards, a huge garage door opening just enough for the car to drive under. The inside was dark, the headlights only revealed an empty warehouse.

"Turn off the engine," Patrick stated softly. "They said to wait."

Darkness claimed the room as the garage door closed behind them. A single green line of light suddenly appeared on the floor ahead of them, stretching from wall to wall. It raced towards them, went up the hood of the car, over the roof, and then back down onto the ground.

Kim turned back around, having watched the light vanish. "What was that?"

"Scanner, probably."

A square of concrete flooring turned to something less solid, and the car gradually sank. Kim watched as they saw the inside of the building's foundation, and then the water below it. Fish darted out of their path, and the car began to roll across the ocean floor. "Umm...why haven't we drowned yet?"

"Answer it with another question--why are we able to move so quickly with all this water in the way?"

"Yeah, the water pressure should be slowing us down..."

"Unless we're intangible."

They sat quietly for a moment, slowly being pulled towards LL Island. A long, thin fish swam right through one window and out the other. Kim tapped various parts of the car--solid. But the fish had sort of passed through his skull, leaving the fish disoriented.

"We're intangible. But not to ourselves?"

"Yup."

"You've done this before?"

"Yeah, but you usually have to hold your breath first."

"I heard Bautista came up with a water-diffusing device, it sucks the oxygen out of water molecules...maybe he's pumping intangible air in here."

Patrick grinned. "Air is already intangible."

"You know what I mean..."

Not willing to break the record for most uses of the word "intangible", Kim polished his glasses with a white handkerchief. The second he put them back on, he saw a sheer wall of rock they were about to crash into--but, as he'd been (popular) cultured with superheroes, he knew not to panic. Sure enough, they passed right through the stone.

They came to a stop right in front of a huge, square spotlight--it stopped glowing, and both could feel the car rising. A round platform underneath had picked them up. "Back to the world of solidarity..."

The turntable continued rotating as they rose, finally clicking as it stopped escalating. The muffled boom of huge lights switching on echoed, and a spotlight surrounded them. The turntable was slowing to a stop. Another light, even larger in diameter, came on, revealing more of the compound. Tagged, burnt-out husks of "mechs" could be seen, all neatly in a row. The light widened, still, no walls could be seen. A jet that had to be larger than a space shuttle was half-revealed by the spotlight.

Even with the added size, Kim could tell that it was a Lairjet.

Kim told himself that there would come a point where things would stop getting bigger. That there had to be realistic limits. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when his grandpa had revealed his double life, that the world was always bigger than it seemed, much bigger than Kim wanted it to be. A minute later, when the entire garage was illuminated, the limits--if they could be called that--were cold comfort.

A brunette walked out to greet them. "Hey, I'm Amy Racecar...Lisette was supposed to do the meet-and-greet, but something came up. The only schedules we have around here tend to be made up on the fly...oh, yeah, the LL sends their apologies too. They're dealing with this thing..."

"Thing?"

"Bad-guys-running-amok-with-superpowerful-weapon thing."

Kim struggled out of the car and into his wheelchair. "I don't suppose they told you why exactly they want me here?"

"Yeah, they said they needed a doc, and you're it. Never hurts to have medical people around, we're always getting killed or body-switched, that sorta stuff."

"I'm assuming you have...facilities?"

"The bathroom???"

"No, medical ones."

She didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, our med bay is over there." She pointed in the general direction of a far-away wall, which was adorned with just under a dozen doors.

"Uhh..." Kim wasn't used to anything but absolute clarity, he wasn't used to answers being anything but precise.

Patrick masked a grin, he thought his grandson had gotten better in dealing with women. "Which door?"

"Roboti will show you...hey, Roboti!"

Ziles' metallic sidekick wandered over. "Greetings...how may I help you?"

"Show us the way to the medical bay?"

"You rhymed...are you a raven?"

"..."

"Never mind."

"Hey, nice car," Amy commented. "But I'll have to outfit it with some comm-gear, and put some armor-plating on...I think we've got some plexiglass we can use for the windows, too. Can't be too careful in our line of work." She opened up a hangar door to put the car in, and was surprised to see a World War I era biplane. "That's weird...where did that come from? Nothing like that is on our inventory list..."

Kim hung on the word "our", and wondered just what he was getting into...

--------------------------------

"Remind me why I haven't killed you, again."

In his eighty-plus years on the planet, Robert Chalk had worn a number of styles of clothing. While they tended to differ from decade to decade, they had one thing in common--they were all expensive. However, his current outfit left much to be desired. It was indicative of a larger problem with the authorities, trying to fit criminals into a one-size-fits-all profile. He wore the same powder blue jumpsuit that every other idiot dealer and mugger wore, but he was far more. Yes, they could put him in the same clothes, make him stand in line for food, and even make him sleep in the same Godforsaken cells, but that wouldn't change the fact that he was a billionaire, or that he'd been a factor in organized crime since he was nineteen. They were deluding themselves, as usual. The same trial for everyone, an exercise in futile equality. Nothing is really equal in the real world, obviously, especially for those such as him.

He'd never been denied bail before, so this was his first time to see the inside of a prison. The assistant district attorney had been cagey in getting his bail revoked, so she was added to yet another in a long list of future revenge victims. His own lawyer could be on that list as well...

"Uhh, well, sir...I'm just trying to help you..."

Robert sighed and felt just about as old as he was, which was depressing. They currently sat in a prison conference room, waiting for the inevitable bad news. The night before, the arms-dealing Robert funded was dragged into the light, his courier, Rory, had already been arraigned, and SPUD was busy tracking down the shipments listed in his database, which The Dark Knight had generously put them onto.

He tried to scratch his back, but the handcuffs made that fairly impossible. He could handle the bumpy chair, the lack of heat, the monotone concrete, even the weird smell, but this...

The door creaked open. As usual, Robert half-expected an assassination attempt from Messenger or someone like that. But it was another superhero altogether...

She was in a blouse and slacks, her brown hair draped over one shoulder, and behind the other. "Mr. Chalk, I'm Lisette...trust me, it's in your best interests to talk to me."

His lawyer finally did something other than check his watch. "Is that so? Has my client been formally charged with anything yet, or are you just keeping him in here for fun?"

"Oh, they don't want to charge him with anything too early, because his main offenses haven't happened yet. Your employees are already rolling on you, and given the evidence in the database...that's enough to hold you for now."

Robert didn't like the sound of the first part of that sentence. "What are you talking about, girl?"

"Let's get the basics first, Al Capone. Ever hear of Arizona v. Mack?"

He looked at his lawyer, who seemed to be reading some invisible book with his eyes, most likely wishing he'd paid better attention to boring law textbooks. "Uhhh..."

"This was back in 1988...Mack was a mercenary, trying to find a safehouse. He'd just helped fend off a druglord's mansion outside of Mexico City, and had killed a few federales in the process. He had a recently-deceased friend who told him that if he was ever in trouble, he should go to this warehouse outside of Phoenix...he'd find some useful stuff there. His friend had been a scientist, and the warehouse only had one worthwhile crate in it--an armored suit was inside. It looked hideously clunky, whirred when it moved, and was basically a refrigerator with arms and legs. But it worked...when the heat came down on him, he managed to put up a decent fight with it. He killed over two dozen cops in his escape attempt. Unfortunately for him, the wires were corroded, and the suit freaked out on him...after he fell into an empty swimming pool, the national guard pinned him there, firing bazookas at him for hours, finally wrecking the suit."

"And this is relevant, how...?"

"Well, the populace was horrified, and the laws on 'super-weapons' had gotten lax in years of less superheroic activity. They figured this thing was cutting-edge, that something had to be done so there wouldn't be an army of guys like this. But as it turns out, the suit had been built in the sixties. Oh, sure, it was bulletproof. It only magnified his strength six or seven times, it couldn't even fly, no offensive weapons were in it. Yet it did all this. This was enough to get the feds involved, and ever since, laws about this sort of thing have been...harsh. So, your client is sort of screwed, as he was using Rory Pagliano to distribute super-weapons. Even if we don't count what the investigations will turn up, even if we don't count all rats deserting your client's ship, even if we rule out the fact that you were helping sell laser rifles and fighter crafts...well, you've still got a problem."

"Yeah?"

"The sword. See, it's the only weapon that SPUD hasn't accounted for. Don't look so surprised, just because your friend Rory didn't include addresses in your files doesn't mean there weren't other clues. They're all being interrogated now, I bet. As we speak, the people you sold to are selling you out so they don't get the death penalty. Incidentally, you'll probably be slapped with a few dozen civil suits, the weapons you helped distribute were used in everything from terrorism to slavery, the latter of which the LL just broke up. Lots of angry civilians in those cases, they tend to get lawyers and sue you. Anyway, I'm hoping your lawyer knows about the Legendary Artifact clause..."

"Yeah, if a non-technological weapon matches at least four characteristics of a 'mythical' or 'legendary' weapon, it can be considered to have all the powers attributed to the ancient version of it."

"Exactly. This sword...if it matches up, your client will be charged with the most strict of all super-weapons charges, because it's got near-infinite power. You know, legends talk about it being able to kill Death, summon the fortress of the man who forged it, and making the user invulnerable...but it needs some gem first, doesn't it? Some gem to put in the handle...the thing is, you need to tell us everything you know about the person you sold this to. The information you gave us isn't enough. And if this weapon is used, if mass destruction is caused, you can be considered legally responsible. Not solely responsible, mind you, but just a sliver of a few hundred murder charges adds up to a lot, y'know?"

"Why should he get himself in more trouble by telling you what he knows, then? Telling you would be tantamount to an admission of knowledge, which could be equated with guilt..."

"Well, if he doesn't tell us, and a lot of people die, he'll be in more trouble than that. You have to understand, you've ticked off a lot of people, Robbie. Your crimes crossed state and country lines. Some of the states after you have the death penalty. Let's say you avoid that. Whatever the sword does, if it does it in a state or country with the death penalty, you'll have to dodge it again. And I don't think you'd like some foreign trials, they tend to last just a few days, and end with you being dismembered. Does that sound good to you? You're one of those idiot 'romantic' criminals, aren't you? You think it's all about elegance and power, right?"

"We don't have to listen to this, you're not even a government employee!"

"No, you don't. Would you like to talk to the cops first? A few of them got shot by the explosive shell handguns you sold to the Gothametropolis York gangs. Maybe you'd like to talk to the feds, I don't think they're happy with you anyway, and with other countries breathing down their necks to deal with you...well, they may be a bit grumpy. I've heard the CIA is looking to make an example out of some poor, unsuspecting arms dealer. Guns are a hot issue, after all, and you sell something much more dangerous...and politicians love scapegoats, don't they? You'd make a good one..."

Silence. Lisette leaned back in her chair, glowing with a soft smile. The lawyer was five seconds away from calling his senior partner. Chalk was wondering when exactly he'd lost control.

"I can't promise you leniency, partially because I can't, and mainly because I don't want to. Let me give you your options. You could try to get the database suppressed, get it ruled out of the trial...but it would've been discovered anyway. Know why? Ziles zapped all of you, remember? Superheroes still aren't exactly legal, anywhere they have an 'incident' guarantees a search, just the way a crime scene does. For instance, say Goldeneyed punches a bank robber through the window of a toy store...that's a crime scene. Or a stopping-of-a-crime scene, which, legally, is the same thing. So your little database would've been found even if The Dark Knight hadn't helped himself to it. And even without the database, there's quite a bit of evidence against you. Testimony from people who bought from you, stuff like that. Anyway, your options...hmm. You don't have many. But I suggest telling us whatever you know about who you sold the sword to, because if you don't, you could have a few dozen more murders on your yellow sheet."

"What crimes do you suspect that he'll be charged with?"

"Well, let's see...possession of super-weapons with intent to sell, racketeering, conspiracy, so many counts of accomplice to murder two or manslaughter two and assault that your head would spin...and that isn't counting civil stuff. Those slaves the LL freed were imprisoned with your weapons, by people you helped hook up, most likely. A few hundred of them times several-million-dollar lawsuits equals...well, a lot. And with the other responsible parties leaving their bodies behind, you're the only one to blame...wouldn't you like to help us spread the punishment around a bit? You were profitting from their mining operation, am I right? Instead of an up-front fee, you took a percentage, meaning you had a financial interest...that makes you, legally, a responsible party. So, when the UN comes after you for breaking any number of human rights acts...you can fill in the rest." She paused, smiling. "Let's say you get lucky. Maybe only half the charges stick, half the civil suits, half the problems. They've had under a day to investigate all this...in a week or two, I'm guessing that there'll be even more. You think you're good enough to sidestep all this? I suggest you stay on our good side, because it may be the only thing that saves your life."

Lisette stood up, stretched a stretch that made both of them regret she wasn't on their side, and started to walk out of the room.

"After I finish this sentence, you have ten seconds to tell me everything you know about who bought the sword, and where Tachon or his forces might be--you know, the guys you sold the desert-themed gear to. Or I tell them you were uncooperative, and I leave you blowing in the wind."

Robert frantically jerked his head in his lawyer's direction. "What should I do??"

He picked up his briefcase. "Find a new law firm."

-----------------------------------

"Maybe I'll just drop a train station on him."

The flight over the Atlantic was boring, to say the least. No landmarks, no cities, just water. For Harold Hopson, it meant the chance to nap before being thrust back into the house that his mother-in-law had somehow taken over. When he'd first met Ashley's parents, the parental enmity was expected, most initial college romances seemed to have that aspect. It was bad enough she was bringing home this person who--God forbid--didn't agree with them on everything, but the fact that she demanded that he stayed with her in her old room...it hadn't been the best start.

But Harold was now in his forties, and the whole thing seemed a bit silly. For a long time, he'd thought that he needed to mature...and he had. But that wasn't the problem. No, the problem was that her parents didn't seem to do the same. He could stand them trying to raise his children over the phone, but in-person...

Harold, Jr. wants to play soccer? A half-hour speech on how it's a "hooligan's sport", and a list of injuries associated with it. Unlike her daughter, Ashley hadn't started dating at fourteen. Why hadn't Harold gotten a promotion in over two years? Didn't they know all those video games were violent, because, after all, the media never lies. He just knew that if they ever found out where Ashley's tattoo was, they'd try to get custody of her, their 43-year-old daughter, because he was being a destructive influence.

The nap was very nice; in it, he dreamt that the kids were gone yet still under his care, and he spent his days as a rich, relatively-young retiree. It ended when the three-year-old passenger next to him used his lap as a stepping stone to the window...

His eyes bugged, and as he caught his breath, he discovered why the child was pointing out the window--the Lairjet was passing by. It banked towards them, giving them a better view of the craft, and Harold could feel the breath of several other people behind him, as everyone crowded to the windows. The stewardess was attempting to bribe them with far-too-small cookies, begging them to return to their seats.

Sighing, he turned around, hoping everyone would go away...he was met with several dozen flashbulbs. Thankfully, the Lairjet pushed ahead, with speed the huge 747 could never muster. At least it would be something to tell the kids about...

On the Lairjet, The Dark Knight sat in the pilot's seat. He was never much for attention, but liked for people to know that the LL was around. Next to him, Fin Fang Foom considered important tactical matters.

"Or maybe I'll just throw a few dozen battleships at them. Geez, slavery...Tachon's gonna be hurting when we're done with him."

"When Hatman and I were checking them, I noticed that some of the women had bruises on their wrists, being twisted in certain ways...I'm guessing the guards took advantage of them. Tachon had to know." DK did something he rarely did--he spoke something not absolutely essential to the conversation. "Which means that someone's getting hit. In the head. With a bat."

Donar nodded. "Aye, they shall answer first to us, then to their people. I rarely admire mankind's law, but letting the people decide their fate seems far too intelligent an idea for your leaders to have come up with...but your peoples are not blessed with inspired royalty, so I suppose that's the utmost you can do."

An antigrav bubble popped up around the hatch door, shrugging off explosive decompression as Exile and Ziles came in. "Satellite came up empty...Tachon's psyche bounced right off it. It's a C-Tech satellite, looks like they were just piggybacking it...the security systems on it sucked, so..."

"Figures," Finny sighed. "Ziles, you pull anything off of it?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, unless you want me to tell you what it's like to have your brainwaves richochet in the freezing cold of space..."

Exile looked around--as usual, Goldeneyed was talking to Lisette over at the comm-station, Trickshot looked bored, and Nats was pretending to listen to CSFB!. "Yeah, Strawberry Shortcake fanfic, that's, uhh...yeah."

"Hey, Lisette said the gangster guy spilled his guts! He said that he met up with Azule-Arach to set up the sale. The blue spider-guy asked for a specific place to buy the sword, she thinks it's so he wouldn't have to transport it--"

"Where? The Dark Knight asked.

"We don't know exactly where, but someplace in Spain."

The Lairjet did a 180 in just under seven seconds.

Trickshot was decked out in his new costume--purple pants with green, rectangular notches, a pointy purple hood that connected to two large, downwards-pointing triangles of fabric of the same color, which covered his chest and back, and gave the illusion of short sleeves. Both pieces were tucked into a black belt, giving him, as Exile called it, "that loincloth look". Long, neon green sleeves with gloves covered his arms, and two compressed crossbows sat on his forearms, lined up with his knuckles. With barely any effort, he could cause them to spin into "handheld mode", allowing him to hold them like normal crossbows, complete with pop-out, trigger-equipped handles. Small feed cables even fed arrows from his mostly-flat vest and thin backpack to the crossbows. A tiny black mask covered his eyes, and his usual blond goatee could be seen, while his hair was hidden underneath the hood. "Hey, you sure that old guy is just gonna roll over and tell you everything?"

"Yeah, he's not in any position to make more trouble for himself..."

"Unless he figures he's got nothing else to lose."

"Hey, Lisette knows what she's doing!"

"I know, I wasn't saying she...ahh, nevermind..."

Hattie saw Finny bristle--as usual, he guessed that the dragon wished that he and DK could sit away from the others. Their presence only seeemed to make the others more tense...but he'd gotten used to them. He now sat quietly, his arms around Sorceress, waiting for an opportunity to pick up the emotional slack Finny tended to leave behind. Someone had to be "the human one". "Lisette can handle herself, she tends to be good at reading people. And she's used to people not being totally honest...if there's anything that she isn't, it's naive."

CSFB! wandered up to Finny. "Hey, what's the city code say about us having animals on the premises? I know we already have some rare species, but is size a factor?"

"Hey, they let Finny stay in the mansion sometimes, that's gotta count for something..." Nats chuckled.

"Uhh...I don't think it matters. Even if it did, I bet we could talk them into making an exception. We aren't technically part of the city, anyway. Remember when that city council guy tried to claim that all the damage that the mansion took warranted the city getting another twenty-four million in tax relief?"

"Yeah, and they tried to list the mansion as another '100 million dollar plus' city resource, to look good for sports franchises and real estate people...anyway, okay, just checking."

Finny raised the closest thing he had to an eyebrow. "I really don't like the sound of that...anyway, let's get to work here. Exy, run a computer check on all bank accounts opened in the past week in Spain, anything with over a hundred thousand for the initial deposit. We can sic SPUD and the local authorities on whatever we dig up while we deal with the sword...and speaking of which, we should find out more about that. Whit, you have anything about it in your mystical tomes?"

"I think so..."

"Cool. Bry, 'port her back to the mansion's library. I'll buzz you if we need an immediate teleport to Spain...right now, I'd rather come in stealthy than giving them a huge teleport to watch. Besides, you may need to conserve strength..."

"But we're playing it safe and making sure they don't need us yet?" DK asked.

"Yeah, let's get our favorite satellite in gear...and see if we can, ahh, borrow a few government ones, while we're at it. They might be trying to screw with our eye-in-the-sky, better not to have all our eggs in one basket. I doubt they even know about it, but if this sword is as powerful as they say, we can't take chances. It can kill death and raise some fortress, right? At least, it can kill it--"

"Her?" CSFB! asked.

"Him." DK stated.

"--whichever, only when it's got the gem in it, right? So we have to keep it out of their reach...anyway, we should scan for topgraphical disturbances and energy signatures, on top of the usual distress bands. I hope Enty's auto-translator is working today..."

"Arguing about the nature of death, huh? Didn't know I joined a philosophy club..." Trickshot grumbled.

The dragon sighed. "Don't worry, I'm sure someone will try to kill us before the day is over."

DK glanced at a flashing light on the dashboard. "It's the Spanish government...I sent an e-mail to their priority address as soon as we found out the location, per LL regulations. I'm guessing they want to talk to you, Fin."

A single e-mail yielding an audience with a national leader, in under five minutes? Not bad...Finny hit a switch on a small viewscreen, a dark-haired man's face appeared. "I hate to tell you this, but you've got a dangerous group of people in your country, with a nearly-invincible weapon. We have to stop them before they make the weapon even more powerful. You up for it?"

"Of course, Mister, ahh, Mr. Foom."

"Good. Now, the weapon may not have arrived yet, it was sent just a few days ago. It's a sword made for killing Death...and it can raise up a fortress of some kind, and...wait a second." Goldeneyed's face appeared on another viewscreen; it was muted, but closed-captioning delivered the message. "Okay, I'm getting more information here...the fortress can be raised from anywhere, but it's easiest if you're right above wherever it's buried. We could be talking huge geographical upset, here. And the gem can be summoned to the fortress, so even if they don't have it now, they could use the fortress to get it."

The leader, who had been pretending to be civil to Frenchmen moments ago, now found himself in the middle of a nation-threatening danger. All things considered, he was handling it pretty well. "Should we close down airports, to make sure the sword doesn't get in, if it isn't already?"

"I don't know if we want to tip them off to our knowledge...the person we got the information from is temporarily restricted from making phone calls, though, that should help us a bit. The people with the sword are a bit on the delusional side, they're after an unseen enemy that they blame for their problems. No telling what they'll do if we confront them."

"They'll bleed, just like everyone else," The Dark Knight commented.

Nats tried his best to act casual, sauntering over to Ziles. "So, uh, we're the newbies, huh?"

She didn't make eye contact. "Yup."

"The mansion is a nice change of pace, I'm not used to having, y'know, sophisticated food and stuff. Not that I was poor before. I had good taste, I just liked stuff I couldn't aff--or, that is, uhh..." Despite the fact that he was floundering in the conversation, it was far better than listening to CSFB! discuss the various mental quirks that made the Wasp "go" for Giant-Man.

Trickshot grabbed Nats by the upper arm and pulled him over. "Have a seat, kid. If there's one thing I've learned in all my years of doin' this, it's that you never hit on telepathic chicks."

"Isn't she empathic?"

"Whichever. If they can read your mind, you ain't gonna get anywhere."

"Umm..."

"Look, we're goin' to Spain, right? I figure, they're right next to France, so they gotta have topless beaches. You'n'me, we can go patrol 'em for villains after the fight. But I get the redheads."

Despite Sorceress' tugs, Hatman had managed to get away from her long enough for a quick conference. He leaned down between the two pilot's seats, and ignored her frequent pulling at his cape. "So, either of you ever hear of this Azule-Arach guy?"

"I'm doing a database search, but I've never heard of him." DK said hollowly.

"Dammit. Ahh well." Hattie stopped resisting, and fell back against Whitney.

The Dark Knight glanced at Finny. "As I said, I've never heard of him."

"You haven't."

"But someone else may have."

"Such as...?"

"A certain Chronicler."

"Whom you can't admit to having any connection with, because of that whole cosmic-non-interference-with-mortals policy."

"Because I don't have any connection."

"Riiiight. I forgot, you're on your whole walking-among-mankind trip."

His voice dropped to a low whisper. "I can't let go. You know that. Just being around deities and forces of the universe isn't what I want my life to be about. I can divorce myself from the cosmic power long enough to get involved with humanity."

"But...you remember what you do as--"

"Yes. The Arachs are the Guardians of the Multiverse."

"They're on our side?"

"They're on their side."

"Ahh, one of those groups...nothing but their own interests matter, ends justify the means?"

"Exactly."

"So why are they helping equip the Enemy-hunters? Did he actually do something to earn their wrath?"

"The hunters blame the Enemy for many things. The Arachs know he isn't responsible. Therefore, the Arachs are manipulating the Enemy-hunters. They're playing a larger game, more than just the immediate threat."

Finny sighed. "Someday, we're going to go up against a simple villain, with a simple plan..."

------------------------------

"I could take it from them. It would be so easy..."

Azule-Arach laid on a glistening time-thread, staring up into the endless reaches. The strand bobbed under his weight, however little it was. A full-borne reality eclipsed most of his view; he was just outside the Parodyverse. Anyone who thinks a universe looks big from the inside has obviously never seen it from the outside, endless starscapes are nothing compared to a huge orb at the center of the cobweb that is reality.

Once again, his thoughts drifted to the sword. It was truly unique, there was none other like it. In the Multiverse, that was incredibly rare. But that was why the Parodyverse had to exist, to take on all the strange and powerful things. If a million variants of the sword existed, it would be easy pickings for those who would seek to misuse its power. But through the work of the Arachs and cosmic office-holders, all things like the sword had been forcibly jammed into the Parodyverse.

Very few webs connected it to neighboring universes, the traditional, "boring existence" ones were all but gone. The huge sphere was pulsing with life, which wasn't surprising--it held the oddities that should have been spread out over a billion other universes.

He could take the sword. He could take it, and use it to kill the enemy he'd been tracking earlier. Irony--they were after The Enemy, he was after a man whose name he dared not speak. But what if he failed? The sword would be in the man's possession, then. No, he had to settle for giving the sword to the Enemy-hunters, and hope that their actions would drive the Parodyverse even further from the norm, hiding it; so his own enemy would never find it.

Several weblines snapped, as common bonds were lost. The Parodyverse's extreme weight was supported by fewer and fewer threads, but that was the way it had always been. How was the Arachs supposed to force all the strangeness in it, when doing so resulted in it being even more precarious?

"Enough." He rose to his feet, and slid down the webline. Seconds later, he'd plunged back into the Parodyverse.

He reappeared high above a rocky-coasted island, and briefly laughed at gravity before teleporting himself to the ground, whatever momentum he had having been lost in the process. Surviving the very gravity of realities was an everyday activity for him, the pull of one tiny planet didn't have much of an effect.

Beauty, however, did. Upon touching down on pale sand, he saw that his arrival had been noted by a red-haired woman. She was laying down, half-wrapped in a thin towel that was her makeshift blanket. It was easy enough to tell that she had nothing on--her full breasts and flat stomach were revealed, the blanket was around her legs, and didn't even come up to her navel. She didn't try to cover up--instead, she stretched and smiled up at him.

"Is it time, milord?" Her voice sounded very formal, with a hint of a British accent.

"Not yet, Penny--but soon."

"If you're looking for Allion, he's out for a--what did he call it?--ahh, yes, a 'jog'. The other hunters are at the beach-house."

"You seem to be picking up earth's culture pretty quickly..."

"It is all very strange to me--far more advanced than my own world. I have seen the picture-box shows, it surprises me that there are very few kings now. And metal carriages instead of horses..."

"Earth was once like your planet, Penelope--during the middle ages. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that your ancestors were earthlings who somehow ended up on another planet. But apart from the rest of the world, their growth slowed, so you haven't gotten to the industrial era yet."

He quickly realized his slip of the tongue, but before he could correct it, she spoke. "We shall never get to any other era...not since that fiend The Enemy ravaged my home."

"I'm sorry, I--"

She got to her feet, and unwrapped the beach towel from her waist, removing any doubt that it was the only thing covering her skin. "It's quite alright, I'm grateful for the chance that the Enemy-hunters gave me--the chance to see other worlds, and perhaps get revenge. You are correct about our origins, though. I had thought that the stories of visitors from the stars were fiction--a man-made reason for the way we came to exist, that they brought us to what we thought was a new earth. But I'm very glad to be out of their society, it was far too strict for me. I had to wear dresses every day, and long nightgowns to bed, even in the summer! My life would have consisted of me courting promising citizens, in hopes that one could give a dowry that would satisfy my father. Sleeping nude on the beach, instead of in an ugly bedroom...it's a wonderful change. I wish that something other than my home's destruction had brought me here, though."

How could he tell her? The Enemy hadn't destroyed their society, an army of invisible beings who lived near the reverse-sun had done all that. It seemed like every culture had an Enemy myth of some kind, it was a polygenesis of storytelling. He was blamed for unexplained things, like the invisible invasion. Yet, she had no clue...none of them did. They were all devoted and wounded, and he was manipulating them...

"I suppose I should thank you again, for helping us get that sword." She paused, and tensed her entire body, looking down at her bare back--it was covered with sand. After briefly rubbing some of it off her rear, she sighed and entered the ocean. "Are those things you said true? Not that I doubt your honor, but they sound so fanciful...Guardians of the Multiverse and all that."

"It's true. I've been assigned to ensure that you get the sword, and raise the fortress."

"So The Enemy is a foe of yours, then?" No point in answering, least of all when his voice had vanished, thanks to the fact that she was giving herself a thorough rubbing and washing. "I've often wondered if I've taken leave of sane mind, if he didn't do what I thought he did...what we all thought he did. But he must have, if you're after him."

He couldn't lie to her--but he couldn't tell the truth, either. "You Enemy-hunters getting the sword and raising the fortress will serve a very good cause, that's right." Technically, it was the truth. Perhaps they'd cause mass destruction, perhaps they'd even slay Death--in any other universe, both actions would give an interdimensional traveller his bearings, setting an otherwise-normal reality apart from others. But if the changes could be taken and put in the Parodyverse, making the realities bland and nearly identical, his own enemy would never find his way.

She splashed water on her face. "It is refreshing to see that the concept of Knighthood hasn't been lost with time, even if the armor has changed to...to..."

"In this reality, they call it a 'costume'. It's a traditional uniform, representing my position as an Arach."

With slow, heavy steps, she left the water. She couldn't be much older than he was, just twenty-three or twenty-four. Of course, he was far older, but his societal role and relative age made him a young adult, compared to his millenia-old masters. Her hair had almost become black in the water, the beads of moisture which darkened her hair were glistening in the sunlight.

"I take it you took care of your business?"

He'd been staring at her wet breasts, as they swayed with each step--he shook himself back to (this) reality. "Business?"

She bent over and picked up her towel. "Yes, you left before..."

"Yes! Yes, I had to keep tabs on another menace."

"Tabs?"

"I had to spy on him, check on him."

She towelled herself off. "Oh. I thought you might have returned to your home..."

He laughed. "I don't have any home, unless you count the hypernest, and I haven't been there since I was born. My only lair is the web outside of reality. I don't need to sleep often, but when I do, I just use the strands of existence for a hammock."

He was grateful when a mask-alarm ran across his lenses--it prevented from having to answer whether or not he slept alone.

"The plane with your sword should be landing soon...and, unfortunately, we're going to have to hurry. There are people who don't want us to have the sword, and they've found out where it is."

"What? You let me waste time prattling on like an old woman and washing myself...why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He didn't dare speak out loud, he only said it to himself. "Because I wanted to watch you. Because you're only a creature of the Parodyverse. If I fail with you, I can't just go to another dimension and try again with that reality's you, as you're the only one in the multiverse. I won't get any other chances for a first impression, I have to make the most of right here, right now."

She suspected, of course. She had to! Even though she was from a "primitive" culture, she had common sense. He was an idiot for thinking otherwise. "Shouldn't you have warned the others before speaking to me?" The last pieces were coming together for her, she knew that he was putting off something important to spend time with her. Or was he?

"I alerted them as soon as I got here--I have communications equipment in my mask. As they're busy getting things ready, I figured it would give you time to wake up and wash that sand off."

"You've certainly got things planned out." In reference to informing them of the situation, or his excuse for getting a chance to stare at her naked body?

"I'm mostly making it up as I go along."

"You said you have no home...I assume you have no place to bathe, then? Why didn't you join me?"

"It's...safer for both of us if I keep the suit on. It's very useful in combat, and you never know when The Enemy might try to attack." He was running out of excuses, time to turn the tables. "Are you going to get dressed?"

She shrugged. "I don't see anyone else around here, so I don't have a reason to cover up. I'm enjoying being able to be more...open, but I'd rather that just you saw."

Throbbing and aching--his entire body was doing something that felt like both. It felt wonderful and painful. He was lying to her, using her...but it was for a good cause. "I know...and I'm glad you feel comfortable around me, but I asked because it's time to go."

"In that case...!" The breeze picked up, flowing past her, then swirling around her. When the mini-cyclone subsided, she solidified the air, and even colored it slightly, giving herself modern clothes--jeans and a white t-shirt.

"You like your new powers?"

"I'm getting used to them. They'd better be worth the price I paid; I hope they'll give me a defense against The Enemy."

What had she done to get them? Whatever it was, it was for nothing. The lie was a game to him, but deadly serious for her. How could he keep it from being nothing but a con-game when she'd suffered? But then, all the Enemy-hunters had suffered one genuine loss or another. But not willingly, not because they believed steps had to be taken to protect them from an imaginary monster. If he hadn't lied, she wouldn't have sacrificed whatever she had--he didn't want to think about it.

They began to walk up to to the beach-house. She tried to read his expression, but the mask made it nearly impossible. "You're quiet...are you alright? You aren't nervous about The Enemy, are you?"

Guilt pooled in his stomach, and sloshed painfully. "I've faced death many times."

"Still, he represents a great challenge. I'm not worried, nor should you be--the Enemy-hunters have been in existence for some time, planning for the day when they'd encounter him. There are dozens of us, we've lost everything because of him, making us outcasts...wanderers."

"And hunters," proclaimed a third voice.

As they entered the house, Allion's words reminded them of their mission. Penny looked around the living room, many strange beings were there, both earthlings and aliens. They were gathered on the large couches and floor, the white-colored walls, couches, and carpeting being blocked out by the crowd. Warm ocean air drifted in from opened windows, billowing sheer curtains. "And what, pray tell, are we to be hunting today?"

"Everyone already knows; it's the sword--one that we wouldn't have gotten without Azule-Arach. I didn't like dealing with organized criminals, and in all honesty, I don't know how we'd have convinced them to sell us anything, not if Azule-Arach hadn't acted as our liason."

She'd never liked Allion--he'd gone out of his way to go out to the beach earlier in the morning, to tell her that he was going for a morning run. She didn't need to know that; he just wanted an eyeful. He was certainly more normal-looking than Azule was--tall, dark-haired, and lean, but anger seemed to emanate from him. He seemed more a thug than a victim of The Enemy.

"After we arrive, those of you who are naturally skilled in combat will stay with me, while the rest of you will wait for the fortress to be raised. The weapons inside should be sufficient for you. And I want a show of hands--who's going to activate the gem-beacon?"

A silver-skinned man spoke up. "What, didn't Tachon find the gem?"

"No, it wasn't in the desert, so we'll have to do it the hard way. The fortress' highest tower is actually a matter-transporter, but it only works on one kind of material--the gem, of course. I'd hoped that we wouldn't have to waste time trying to summon it to us, but it doesn't look like we have a choice. And the Lair Legion is involved--they broke up Tachon's operation, and nearly captured him. They now know about the sword, as well as that the sword's destination is Spain, and it's too late for us to have it sent somewhere else."

"I'll activate it." Azule-Arach ignored the surprised stares of everyone in the room. "But Tachon failing messes up our timetable--summoning the gem will take several minutes. We'll need a distraction to buy time."

"I've already got one in mind," Allion said. "Once we have the sword and gem, and the fortresses' technology, we should be able to get a bead on The Enemy. But, even as tough as the legends say it is, I doubt that the fortress can withstand the combined attacks of all of earth for more than twenty-four hours. Remember--our main priority is to use the fortress' equpiment to find The Enemy, we can write it off after that. Don't feel any need to protect it, outside of buying time to track down The Enemy. We just need the sword and the gem, and temporary access to the equipment."

Penny looked concerned. "But...what about The Enemy? Won't he try to stop us?"

"If he wants to, good--just an easier way of getting him out in the open. It'll save us time."

A lizardlike, red-skinned alien woman spoke up. "But what if he attacks before we get the gem in the sword?"

"There'll be plenty of us to keep him busy."

"Are you KIDDING?" The silver-skinned man rose to his feet, clenching his fists. "How can we put up a fight? Come on, he wiped out Penny's entire planet in less than a day! I saw The Enemy steal my planet's version of air, without it, everyone but me was reduced to our natural, helpless liquid forms! I nearly drowned in a flood of everyone I'd ever known...we needed that form of oxygen to produce structural electricity, but he stole it! If I hadn't been a...a freak, without a need for that..."

"Easy, Nal..." Allion tried to calm the taller man down. "The difference is, we're expecting it this time." He glanced at his watch. "Okay, everyone, let's get into uniform. How much longer do we have before the plane with the sword touches down?"

Azule-Arach checked his lense-readings. "Minutes...but I can teleport us there in seconds."

"Okay, let's hurry anyway, people..."

As the room emptied, Allion pulled his own uniform over the shorts and tanktop he was currently wearing. Like all the Enemy-hunter suits, it was dark blue, with bits of black mixed in. The suits were actually alien military fatigues, which they'd found among the remains of a planet that The Enemy had ravaged.

Azule-Arach crouched in a ceiling corner, ensuring that his back wouldn't be open to an attack. He'd have been insane to trust Allion or any of the others, they only cared about killing The Enemy, it didn't matter who got in the way, or which of their friends died in the process. But were the Arachs any different? They wanted the Parodyverse to remain a freak reality, as long as the major changes were forced into it, nothing else mattered. Right now, they just wanted him to ensure that the Death-killing sword would fall into the Enemy-hunters' hands.

They'd raise the fortress. Innocent people would probably die, but to keep the Multiverse in order, it was a small price to pay. Perhaps the Enemy-hunters would be killed by earth's forces--he'd certainly have no reason to protect them after he was through manipulating them.

Except for Penny.

She was changing clothes, now. With a teleport, he could be in her room, and then take her to a safe place. He could claim that The Enemy had arrived and slaughtered everyone but them--and she'd believe him. Why would he lie?

They could spend the rest of their lives on an Eden-like planet in some backwater reality, where no-one would ever find them. With a bit of luck, he could find a dimension that wouldn't have an open window back into the Multiverse for some time--he'd claim it would be so The Enemy couldn't reach them, when in fact it would be a perfect isolation. Just the two of them, living in paradise...and "unfortunately" unable to leave that dimension. They'd take showers under waterfalls, and have an entire planet to themselves...

It was then that Azule-Arach realized that the only thing keeping him from a perfect existence with her was his love for her.

He couldn't lie to her like that. He could lie to her like this , but not like that. Leading her on was one thing, but fabricating a way to make her love him...! She'd been hurt enough. But how else could they ever be together? Only if he was removed from his job, if she was removed from her mission, if they were "accidentally" trapped together...then, it would work. No competition, no worries. But with so many complicating factors, so many things in the way...

The others were coming back into the living room--he jumped off the ceiling and landed in the middle of the crowd. "Get close, and I'll teleport us there."

Penny was back; she stood close to him. One teleport, and they'd be together forever. Less than a second's worth of work would result in a lifetime of love, albeit built on a lie. But she'd be safer that way.

His rationalizing went back and forth. He felt guilt in the form of headaches and stomach-aches, indecision painfully crept across his brow.

They were waiting for him. Everyone was there, it was time. With a surprising amount of tenderness, Azule-Arach took her hand. She saw his mask stretch, as if he'd said something. Before she could ask what, there was a flash of blue light.

As natural light filled the room once again, the Paradox Stranger revealed himself, and sighed--nobody there. "Not the lady, but the tiger." Too bad, he'd had hope for that one...

--------------------------

Robert Chalk was forcibly shoved into his cell; smacking into its concrete wall. He rubbed his upper arm--he'd be feeling that bruise for days. The door closed quickly, startling him. "Why is it so cold in here??" he muttered; his denim prison uniform not very thick.

"You a rookie at this, old man?"

To Chalk's horror, he had a cellmate. The guy had long blonde hair, and a black goatee. "Who are you?? They said I'd be staying in an empty double until they could find--"

"Shut up!" The guy threw his magazine down onto the floor, and rose to his feet. "Look, let's make a deal."

As the man was a foot taller than Chalk, the older man nodded.

"Okay. You hold still, and you'll never have to put up with me again."

While Chalk contemplated the various ways that phrase could be interpreted, the man put his hands around Chalk's neck, and began squeezing.

Chalk could no longer feel his feet on the ground--he hoped it was because he was up in the air, and not that his body was going numb from a lack of oxygen to his brain. The man's hands glowed momentarily, and he dropped Chalk onto the floor.

During his attempt to persuade his heart to beat at a safe rate, Chalk didn't hear what the guy was saying--in fact, he didn't even notice that the guy was apparently talking to himself. "Nope, he got interrogated by another hero, not Hatman. Yeah, I'm going there now."

As Chalk pulled himself onto the lower bunk, he screamed for help. He kept waiting for the man to grab him by the scruff of his neck, and pick him up again. But as he clawed at sheets that kept slipping away, no-one approached, save for a guard.

"What's your problem, Chalk?"

"My cellmate, he tried to--"

"Are you senile?? You don't have a cellmate, you idiot!"

Chalk looked around--except for him, the cell was empty.

------------------------

At Madrid International Airport, a ticket-clerk was surprised to see a crowd of strange-looking people materialize before her eyes. A small man in a blue costume disappeared, and then re-appeared with a huge broadsword, which he handed off to a normal-looking man. The clerk's last thought was "What's he gonna do with that?"

------------------------

Behind several layers of armored metal, a dozen cushions of impact-absorbant material, three-hundred-million dollars worth of circuitry, and while travelling at Mach-5 just a thousand feet over the Atlantic, Ziles could still feel the pain of four-hundred and ninety people dying.

"We're too late, we're--"

"We're needed," The dragon interrupted. "G-Eyed, port us there, NOW!"

------------------------

One Minute Earlier:

"Mommy, why won't the water fountain work?"

All over the amusement park, water blinked off. Splashing sprays on roller coasters vanished, rapidly-streaming waterslides were reduced to trickles, and showers within the park's private hotels spat steam, and then nothing.

Power was next--brownouts flickered a path across the park, causing neon signs to fade and die down completely. Roller coasters literally stopped in their tracks; in some cases they were upside-down on a loop, and people just hung there. In special-effect-rigged haunted houses, the sudden blackness made them far more frightening than any holographic ghosts ever could.

Inside the park's main control room, panicked Spanish voices clashed with each other. All were looking for a common thread in these accidents, trying to save face after this sudden weirdness.

A man's eyes shot open, and somehow, they all knew to turn to him. The frantic voices shattered into silence, and the man tried to make his suddenly-dry mouth speak. "The water pipes...the electric cables...they're mainly underground..."

Then, the shaking started.

A park-owned-store full of wind chimes deafened everyone within a half-mile; they were clanging against each other, thanks to the vibrations. Asphalt, concrete, and even steel flooring began to crack like sun-dried clay. Every product in a glassware story simultaneously exploded.

Screaming parents were drowned out by the noise. Children and older people began to tip over as the ground came apart beneath them. Burst water pipes began to reach the surface, spraying everywhere.

And a lone security guard, seeing that something shiny was coming out of the ground, was impaled by a spire.

Buildings and roads crumbled as the silver fortress forcibly erupted out of the ground, clearing away all in its path. It was a five-pronged building: The center tower was the highest, with four connected towers surrounding it. It was almost as big as the park itself, and, even before it had completely escaped the ground, it was already hundreds of times taller.

On top of rubble which had once been a two-story building, Allion held the sword high. "To me, fortress!"

It was like being in the ocean: Towering waves of building and street debris, people, tables, chairs, signs, and everything else in the park were pouring out, having been shoved aside by the fortress. Displaced ground was everywhere--layers of the park were uprooted, and fell onto each other. Buildings toppled like dominoes, spilling onto wave after wave of escaping park visitors. From the center of the park outward, the ground was sloping. Trees, cars, building-chunks, and people tumbled down the landscape which the rising fortress, squarely in the park's center, had created. Once, all this land had been spread out over several miles. Now, the fortress having shoved it outwards, it piled on top of itself at the edges of the park.

Several dozen people were shocked that the ground below them had shaken to pieces; underneath was the cone-shaped rooftop of a smaller tower. The building rocketed straight up, and they watched the ground below them become further and further away.

Too smooth to get a grip on, the rooftop provided nothing for the people to grab onto--they began to slide down it. The surface gave way to empty air, and they could only freefall. They closed their eyes, expecting death.

Instead of being killed by impact with something hard, they found themselves hitting something soft. It was a net, of all things--a glowing-red net, just hovering in the air. Nets stretched out around each of the rooftop-levels, and hundreds were bobbing up and down in the stretchy material. There was a net around the top spire, the four smaller spires, and the eight smallest spires, such as the one they'd just slid off of.

Below, the stampede of people continued--it was a rush to escape the center of the park. There were waves of ground and shattered buildings surging outwards, in a concentric circle. A hailstorm of debris raced downwards, towards the northern portion of the crowd--but every single piece was reduced to dust in the wake of a superfast blur.

For the majority of the park's visitors, it was impossible to see where they were going. Between the shaking and the piles of wreckage, they could be running to an open plain or into a hole--but a unifying voice began spreading through their minds. No words, but they could intuitively feel which way to go.

Stragglers were caught in the onslaught of falling buildings, but they vanished in golden flashes of light, and reappeared in a safe area outside of the park.

The momentum of the tossed ground was still going strong, even though the fortress had stopped moving. Water from a hotel swimming pool washed across the ground, causing several to slip. As they tried to crawl away, roller-coaster-cars bounced towards them, the track not far behind...but the cars froze in space, as reality became blurry around them.

Several turned to look behind them, and saw the tallest building in the park, still in one piece, heading straight for them. It was now horizontal, and flying through the air...the ground it had once stood on was at the top of the wave of debris. The quake-proofing it had gone through held it together. It was still under construction, and thankfully unoccupied.

A television cameraman, who'd been filming a news-story about the park, was caught in a tide of powdered concrete and building walls. He felt his back hit the ground as sand-like debris poured over him. The wave had finally died down--the avalanche of ground and buildings settled slowly. But, in mid-air, a six-story building was flying rooftop-first, and gradually losing altitude...assuming he was dead, he turned on the camera, and started filming.

As the shadow of the building fell over them, people gave up. The shadow stretched dozens of feet in front of them; they could never outrun it. Children stood there, shocked. Adults gradually slowed to a stop. Older people collapsed, giving into strain, knowing it was futile to resist.

There was a shame in their surrender, but no-one said anything. Not until a murmer raced across the crowd...someone was above them.

The zoom lens picked up two people literally flying towards the building--Fin Fang Foom and Donar. Donar had a small kid hanging onto the back of his neck, while Finny, who had taken on a much larger form, had an entire girls' school class in improvise-shapeshifted pouches on his wings.

"Sorry about this, girls, but I don't have time to--" Finny winced, took the building in the stomach, and through sheer strength of will, kept it from hitting the ground. While he didn't change positions, he went soaring backwards for several miles, hanging onto the huge object that had steamrolled him. But he was gradually angling downwards over a populated area...he could feel the concrete-block roof grinding against his stomach muscles, and the building was at the wrong angle for him to hold it up. If he was directly under it, and it was upright, he'd be fine; he could put shoulder into it. But with it horizontal, and at an end, rather than under it...plus, he didn't have anything to brace himself against. He could feel his hands slipping, it was going to flip out of his grasp.

The dragon was still rocketing backwards. Exile and Donar blasted after him, the former providing a red tether around the building, a combination of an energy-structure and a tractor beam. Donar grabbed onto it as he flew, and began pulling straight up. Finny sank his claws into the building, getting a firm hold on it--Donar was taking most of the weight off.

After making sure no-one was around--he was now in the countryside surrounding the park--Finny dug his talon-equipped feet into the ground, trying to slow down. Donar kept the building from falling too quickly, while Finny worked on bringing it to a halt.

The girls were rattled as everything stopped. Several dozen pairs of eyes peeked out of Finny's wing-pockets, and saw that Donar was gently lowering the building onto the ground. Of course, the moment it touched the ground, it fell apart from structural strain. The ID-energy tether dissipated, and Finny sighed, looking at the bruise on his stomach. "I love teamwork..."

Exile grinned, and formed ID-energy slides, so the girls could get to the ground. Once they did, he helped them onto their feet, and looked up at the dragon, snickering. "Not used to getting hit by stuff that's as big as you?"

"Shut up," Finny said grumpily, his arms aching--he wished Enty had been around to help with the heavy-lifting. "That's an order, dammit."

Exy flew up to Finny's eye-level, with a bunch of slips of paper in his hands. "Considering the life-and-death they were just in, they did a pretty good job of writing down their phone numbers..."

"Urgh." Finny looked around at the scene--the fortress was in the background, with a mountain of debris surrounding it. The authorities were clearing out all the bystanders--but it didn't look like there were enough of them. There had to be more..."Let's go find the idiots responsible for this." He tapped into the empathic-communication network Ziles had set up. "Everyone, regroup on the park's west side."

Hatman sped over to the descending Finny, Exy, and Donar. Finny looked Hattie up and down. "How'd you get dust all over you?"

"Hey, hitting debris at two hundred kilometers an hour is messy."

Sorceress, who had frozen objects in the air in several places, let them fall to the ground as she walked over. "My mystical senses aren't picking up anyone from under all the debris..."

"I'm not either," stated Ziles, who did a forward flip off a hill of building rubble.

Nats escaped the crowd of girls which was threatening to mob him. "Um, I saved a kid! But he bit me..."

G-Eyed teleported to them. "Anyone seen the sword?"

Finny nodded. "Yeah, DK told me that it was at an airport a few miles from here. I'd say it's somewhere around here, now."

CSFB! was upside-down in debris, on the other side of the park. "Can somebody give me a lift out there?"

"Where's Trickshot and DK?" Finny asked. "Ziles, can you find them?"

Their location flashed across everyone's minds. Upon seeing what was going on, Nats simply said "Crap!"

----------------------

"Don't touch them. I don't care how powerful that sword makes you--you can't kill me. Maybe you can for a little while, but I'll come back, hunt you down and string you up. You say that sword kills Death? I'm not afraid of Death. I'm immune. Whatever you have against The Enemy, it ends, now."

In the shadow of the fortress, amidst clouds of dust that splotched the air like watercolor, two men with swords decided the fate of three people. They were situated on the remains of buildings, which provided foothills for the fortress just slightly above them. The three people--Rosa, her son Carlos, and her new husband Pedro--were crouching behind a man in a purple-and-green costume, who was holding two small crossbows. They'd survived the destruction, but stumbled across one of the swordsmen, who was about to enter a tunnel. He was wearing a paramilitary costume, had bristly black hair, and was named Allion. Rosa knew enough English to understand that he'd said "no witnesses".

"It's too late to hide your secret passage. Put the sword down." The other man, at first, was a mystery to them. He was mostly shrouded in darkness, but Rosa vaguely recognized the design of his mask and his eerie, blank eyes. But when he pulled out a small nightstick, and liquid metal poured out of it; turning it into a katana sword, she realized who it was.

"I'm assuming you're The Dark Knight?" Allion kept his sword high, ready to strike. "This is one of the most powerful weapons in the universe--your pathetic little knife won't do anything to it."

"If you were sure of that, you'd have made a move by now."

A voice whispered. "Easy, folks...DK'n'me won't let ya get hurt." The tiny black mask which covered Trickshot's eyes had special lenses built into them--he could see his current selection of arrows. Rather than a quiver backpack, he had them all tucked away in a vest under his purple tunic. At a moment's notice, he could route any arrow to either of his crossbows. Right now, he had explosive arrows lined up, as well as bola arrows. Neither would hurt the guy, but they'd delay him, giving DK time to clear the innocents out.

Allion scoffed. "You have no idea what I've--what WE'VE gone through. The Enemy has taken away everything from us..."

"I understand that more than you'll ever know. But you're just doing the same thing. By raising the fortress, you've taken the lives of people who were important to others, just like The Enemy did to you."

Allion's eyes widened. "Don't...you...EVER...compare me to...to that thing."

"Then stop acting like him."

With his sword, Allion gestured to the people behind Trickshot. "Three people. Weighed against the lives of millions...maybe billions, that The Enemy has killed. Even if they have to die, it's worth it."

"Do you have proof?"

"I don't need it."

Rosa had seen the talk shows, and debated with her friends about it. The situation of superhumans, and how they related to humanity. She never imagined it was like this. If one side backed down, decided that preserving innocent lives wasn't so important after all...she'd lost her first husband to cancer. Her son would never speak to his true father again. She was praying that it wouldn't happen again.

"Monsters," said DK, quietly. "They begin by sacrificing innocents for some 'greater good'. I've been around long enough to know. You're either about revenge, and killing anyone who gets in your way, or you're about compassion, and you help everyone."

"You? Compassionate?"

"I break people's bones to stop them from doing something worse to someone else. I've seen the worst this Godforsaken planet has to offer. I'll feed you that sword, boy."

"No--"

A new voice. Allion jerked his head, ready for his allies to spring out of the fortress' lower levels, which were covered in mounds of debris.

Instead, the Lair Legion landed. Fin Fang Foom spoke for them. "--I will."

Rosa and her family were enveloped in a bright-red force field. In moments, they were airborne in a bubble of energy.

Allion considered his options. The dragon was shoulder-to-shoulder with Donar, Exile, and Hatman. Those four could give him a hand-to-hand challenge. Sorceress, Ziles, and Trickshot could strike from afar. Nats, CSFB!, and Goldeneyed could all distract him, and probably find ways to hurt him while the others kept him busy.

"Ask him why he was herding people--not his own agents, but bystanders--into the fortress," DK said, his voice lifeless.

Sorceress stepped forward. "I already know: The fortress doesn't have a power source. It may be high-tech, but it was built a long time ago. It needs biological energy to power it--souls."

"Don't worry; we'll put them back when we're done," Allion grinned.

The dragon caught Allion's glance. "You say that you just want justice."

"Yeah."

"Fine. We'll help you."

There was a pause. Allion kept his guard up, and finally found a response. "How?"

"We have resources and connections you don't. We'll find The Enemy for you--and we'll find out how much he's actually done."

Allion jumped slightly at the last part of that statement. The Dark Knight raised an eyebrow inside his mask: Was Allion conning his soldiers, and afraid of the truth? Or was he just surprised by the offer?

"But you have to make some compromises. You'll stand trial for what you've done here...let your captives go...and give us the sword."

Something was wrong. Allion couldn't quite put his finger on it...he'd been sure that superheroes were only concerned with the status quo, that they just cared about punishing lawbreakers. But seeing a team open to listening...no, it couldn't be right. "And how do I know The Enemy isn't manipulating you?"

"You must have methods of detecting him, if you've been tracking him...test us."

Allion sighed. "If it were up to me, I'd take you up on your offer. But the people I lead have had their hope shattered so many times...I can't risk having it happen again. This time, we win for sure--no risks."

Hattie prepared to grab him at superspeed, but he disappeared, and in the flash of light, Azule-Arach could be seen. The surface of the fortress began to glow, reflecting off the dust, and revealing a form-fitting force field.

The LL headed away from the fortress, taking a position on a "hill" nearby. Finny got in the middle of the huddling LLers. "Okay, let's take this guy out--first priority is clearing out the innocents. I don't know if that power-draining thing will hurt them or not, but they don't deserve to be strapped down and have the energy zapped out of them. G-Eyed, 'port Exy inside and take out the force-field device. The Lairjet's scanners should help you find it. DK, Ziles, you infiltrate the fortress, and work on freeing the captives, while we keep the Enemy-hunters busy. If anyone's got a shot at getting further inside, go for it. Next priority is getting the sword away from Allion, and disrupting that gem-summoning process."

At the highest tower's tip, an antennea-like spire could be seen, it was glowing bright green. Bry and Exy both disappeared, and Ziles patched them into the rest of the team's strategy.

DK glanced up to it. "I say we take that out, it's probably part of the summoning gear."

Ziles shook her head. "I can sense people attached to that, powering it...the feedback would kill them. They're powering all of the fortress, we can damage the rest without hurting them. But halting an energy signal that powerful, that's plugged into their minds, would have a huge amount of backlash."

"What powered the fortress at first? What made it rise?" Hatman asked.

"The sword, probably." Sorceress said. "Its exact abilities are pretty vague, but it's got the usual return-to-its-owner feature, and it gives him a personal protection field that works against everything, even light, sound, magic, and telepathy. As I understand it, it filters out harmful portions of any of those things. The fortress' field isn't the same, though..."

Finny groaned. "Thank God for that--but our usual defenses against force-fields won't work against him, then. G-Eyed, if you can get ahold of his sword, see how well it fares being teleported."

"But Azule-Arach can teleport too--and the sword can return to Allion from anywhere, even other dimensions and times." DK said. "Remember: We're dealing with unstable people here, they're desperate to get revenge. I doubt they'll be very open to talking."

Finny spoke, and when he finished, Trickshot got a huge, contented smile on his face. "That's fine by me--because the talking ends now."

---------------------------

It was nothing but a towering staircase: Easily seventy feet high, it resembled the roll-away stairs often used on airport runways. But it was gleaming silver, and firmly anchored to the ground. Inside the fortress' central--and tallest--tower, a man climbed those stairs. A massive, cone-shaped glass "dome" acted as a roof, with antennaes sticking straight up from it. Halfway up the stairs was the beginning of the glass canopy.

Allion paused from his journey, and looked up. The sky was blotted out with swarms of what must have been fighter jets. But from where he was, he could scarcely differentiate them from a horde of insects; they were just groups of dull-outlined black dots. SPUD's people, and some UN forces thrown in, most likely.

The sword was still in his hand. Judging from its power--which was making his arm numb--the legends about it had to be true. Were he a man of lesser will, he'd have wished that The Enemy would fight him one-on-one, right now. Feeling as good as he did, as powerful, how could he lose? No--best to wait until there was no chance of defeat.

He felt oddly fearless. Nearly at the top of the stairs, he wasn't worried about falling, or about the legions outside, all wanting to kill him. Let them come. Compared to The Enemy, they were nothing.

Allion reached the top of the stairs, now parallel with the glass cone, rather than the metal walls. A small, round platform was built into the end of the stairs. He stepped onto it, and was able to see outside, in all directions around him. The glass "walls" were dozens of feet to the side of him, below him, and they gradually came to a tip above him. It was as if he were in a planetarium, with the fullness of the sky open to him, visible through the cone.

The jets swooped low, and he could feel the sound of hundreds of engines pulsing against him. They released missile after missile, each tore into the fortress, but did no damage. His view was eclipsed by explosions, as hundreds--thousands?--of missiles detonated on the fortress' surface.

When the blobs of fire cleared, he could see the jets getting ready for a second pass. But before that happened, he heard a whistling.

A voice called up to him. On the floor, the red, lizard-like being was sitting at a control panel. "Allion, they're dropping smart bombs!"

"Let them," he commanded. "Keep getting ready."

Below him, strange creatures went about their business. Humans, aliens, cyborgs, and other-dimensional beings led park-goers--now prisoners--to the draining chambers. They transported weaponry from the armory to the huge foyer Allion was currently in, which they were using as their main quarters. They also used the ancient technology to monitor the outside.

One-by-one, they looked up as the smart bombs began striking. Allion stood high-atop the staircase, never flinching. When was the last time he'd felt this much power? Never? He allied himself with victims, all scared and on the run from an unstoppable being. They'd never had a home, never had any resources or weaponry.

Despite how childish it sounded, he whispered "It isn't fair". The first time they ever came across something that would help them get revenge and keep them safe, the entire world tries to take it away from them. Fleets of fighter-jets, smart bombs dropped from stealth jets...he could see tanks and SPUD ground-rovers in the distance. This one moment in time, he suspected, would be the best he ever had. The only occasion he'd ever have the power to fight back.

"Allion?" He recognized Azule-Arach's voice, and dove headfirst off the stairs. After the room collectively gasped, he landed seventy feet below, unhurt.

"What is it?"

"They've found some sort of exo-skeletons. Fifteen feet tall, I think this planet calls them 'mechs'. I'm guessing there's twenty or thirty of them."

"Put the non-powered into them, especially the pilots and anyone who's been in a military. I doubt we'll have more than ten minutes, so they'd better figure out how to use them, fast."

He stared at the bank of monitors on the control panel, which was ten screens high and wide. He could see stealth jets thousands of feet up, preparing to drop more bombs. Armored vehicles and ground-rovers were sliding their missile-launching segments out. Artillery soldiers were launching grenades, of all things. SPUD aircycles were blasting at them with lasers and EMP cylinders. He was worried--where were the superheroes?

Allion felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Penny. "What are you doing with all those people??"

"We need a power source to summon the gem to us, and I need the sword's power for other things. We'll try not to kill them. But against the billions that The Enemy has killed, I think a few dozen people can afford to suffer, if it helps us bring him down."

After half-starting to yell at him, she marched off. He casually walked over to the red lizard, Korr, who hissed and spoke to him. "Something's wrong."

Both searched the wall of screens. "I know, I can feel it too. But what? All the obvious bases are covered..."

Azule-Arach joined them. "Everything looks normal to me: They're trying to kill us, and blasting away every part of the fortress." He noticed one of the monitors, and amended himself. "Well, everything but--"

There was no need to finish the sentence: They simultaneously realized that no-one had attempted to shoot the gem-summoning antennae.

Allion took a step forward. "They know about the psychic backlash? But--"

A chorus of painful gasps caused him to look around, and he realized that everyone but himself had been knocked to the floor. Azule-Arach, who usually had an incredible sense of balance, jumped lightly to his feet. "Didn't you feel that? What happened??"

Korr pulled himself up to the control panel. "The force-field is gone!"

"Could they deactivate it from outside?"

"No...the only way to do it is to blow up the generator in the basement."

With a blue reality-bending effect, Azule-Arach vanished. When he reappeared, he shook his head. "Someone got to it. They're inside."

Korr put on headphones, which were connected to the main console. "We've lost contact with some of the power-source hostage guards..."

Allion banged his fist on the chair Korr was in. "Dammit! The fortress is armored, but under this much firepower, we don't have long. Scramble the mechs, we're going to need more bodies to power the antennae!"

Penny chose the exact wrong moment to return--she looked angry, heading right for Allion. Sighing, Azule-Arach tried to block her, but she stepped past him.

Nothing bothering to make eye-contact, Allion spoke to her. "Look, I don't have time for this, little girl!"

She grabbed his arm and forcibly turned him until he was facing her. "You do now."

Then she punched him in the stomach.

He doubled over in pain. The girl rippled away, until she was replaced by a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall dragon. It brought a closed fist down on Allion's lower back, knocking him face-first onto the floor. "DO IT!"

Taser-arrows sank into the control panel, affecting not just that device, but the fortress' entire communications network. A noiseless, mystic bolt of energy struck Azule-Arach. A superfast blur turned laser-rifles into superheated scrap metal.

Sorceress dropped the mystic cloaking illusion, and the Lair Legion stood amongst the Enemy-Hunters.

It looked unfair: Just several LLers, against dozens of super-powered beings and soldiers, all armed with high-tech weapons. They barely fit in the large, circular foyer, but went at it nonetheless.

The silver-skinned alien, Nal, quickly reverted to his liquid-metal form. He lunged towards the dragon, and wrapped himself around him many times over, pinning his arms and hoping to suffocate him...

Allion shoved the blade of his sword into the ground, and slowly pulled himself up. "KILL THEM!"

A human cyborg, with a metal cannon-arm, aimed for the purple-and-green archer. One shot, two, three...each time, the laughing marksman performed one John Woo-esque stunt after another, keeping just ahead of the cyborg's aim. "Not much of a shot, are ya?"

"Hey, tall, dark, and Liefeldian!" The cyborg turned to see a yo-yo go flying into his gun-arm. He instinctively fired towards the freaky orange-and-green-clad albino who stood ten feet away, but the yo-yo caused his arm to backfire.

CSFB! caught the unharmed, if smoking, yo-yo in his hand. The cyborg stumbled around, watching his limb fall apart. A bluntly-tipped arrow cracked off his forehead, and Trickshot examined his new handheld mini-crossbows.

CSFB! leapt towards Korr at an incredible speed, tackling her and slamming her against a wall. "You like 'em, Tricky?"

Trickshot rapid-fired three arrows. One electrified Nal and sent him into spasming, freeing Finny (who didn't need to breathe, anyway). The second was a tranq-arrow, which knocked out a human with some sort of pistol, on the outskirts of the battle. And the third blinded a fairly large robot with ultraviolet rays, which gave Donar the perfect opportunity to knock its head off. "Yeah, I like 'em."

Allion ran towards Trickshot, his sword held high. Naturally, Trickshot backflipped over him at the last possible second. Hatman put on his Springfield Atoms cap and blasted Allion with sub-nuclear energy, sending him flying into Donar's roundhouse. He went flying through the wall, and according to the Lairjet's scanners, landed twenty-seven rooms to the left.

Finny got CSFB!'s attention. "Go after the guy with the sword! Don't fight him, just...annoy him, keep him busy!"

Azule-Arach leapt over Sorceress' next blast, and tried to locate the rest of the team. DK and Ziles were missing, and Goldeneyed, Nats and Exile didn't seem to be in the main foyer.

"Looking for me, bugboy?" A metallic floor-tile disappeared, and Goldeneyed used it to uppercut Azule-Arach, right after he'd teleported directly in front of him. The spider-human rolled with it, tumbling backwards across the floor and landing on his feet.

"You think you can teleport, human?" Azule-Arach did so, reappearing at intervals high above G-Eyed. He fired off glistening webbing each time he came back into sight, but Bry teleported above him, and both of his feet connected with the back of Azule-Arach's head.

The walls shuddered even more, and the Enemy-Hunters felt relieved: Fifteen of the mechs were there. Finny grunted quietly, that meant Exile would have to deal with at least five of them on his own. When he'd heard them mention using the mechs to get more "power-sources", he'd dispatched Exile to stop them.

Nal had calmed down, and sent a wave of himself at Sorceress, who was fighting off four or five aliens armed with even more laser rifles. Their beams twisted around her, striking each other rather than her. She turned to face Nal, causing mystical lightning to course through him. "Liquid AND metal, very good for electricity..."

"Let's get to it, people!" Finny, Donar, and Hatman rushed the mechs, dodging the smoke-spiraling missiles which had just been launched at them. Donar tested the effects of Mjalcom's lightning on them, Hatman decided to stick with his near-nuclear energy attack, and Finny just ripped off an arm and started hitting the mech with it. Ten feet above the floor, Sorceress established an invisible mystic barrier: Rather than rain down on those below, the missiles would detonate as soon as they hit the energy-field.

Hatman tapped into Ziles' empathic comm-network. "Trickshot, trade with G-Eyed! You handle the crowd, let him handle Azule-Arach!"

Trickshot, who had been taking out the non-powered soldiers with varying arrows, fired one at Azule-Arach. He was running around on the ceiling, still trying to tag G-Eyed with webbing. After seeing the arrow, he leapt for the floor, but chalky plaster exploded out of it, falling onto him.

He teleported to the ground, but found that standing was difficult--the white stuff was incredibly heavy. "What is this??"

Trickshot made Azule-Arach dance, sending explosive-arrows at him, and reducing the floor to shrapnel. "Um, I believe the technical term is 'gloppy stuff'."

The fight with the mechs had blown away most of the walls and roof. Energy beams and missiles were countered with superstrong punches, fire, lightning, and subnuclear energy. Despite being outnumbered five-to-one, and being "outsized" by the huge mechs, Finny, Donar, and Hattie were holding their own. Donar used Mjalcom to smash the missile-launchers built into their shoulders, Hattie seared off their jetpacks and arms with atom-fire, and Finny bit off the barrels of various weapons.

Goldeneyed teleported above the several dozen soldiers, and came down on one's neck, hand-first. He used the man as a balancing beam, swinging wildly and kicking everyone within range. He blinked away, and reappeared directly underneath one of the soldiers, kicking straight up while doing a handstand on the ground. The heel of his foot impacted the man's jaw from just the wrong angle, snapping his mouth shut. He rolled on his side, grabbing one of their guns and using it as a club, spinning it in his hands and introducing it to their faces. He threw it, and it had knocked four men to the floor before it even slowed down. Cartwheeling through the crowd, all four of his limbs tore a path through them...

Sorceress sent soul-wavelength pain pulses through more aliens, and looked around the battlefield. She was about to take on the mechs when she heard Finny's voice in her head, telling her to keep an eye on Trickshot--they had the mechs under control.

She turned to see Azule-Arach, who'd teleported several inches behind Trickshot. That close, and far faster, Azule-Arach gave him a punch he'd never forget. Before he could do more, Whitney made Azule-Arach's skeleton red-hot, searing his insides.

G-Eyed felt Hatman's mind speaking to him, and they settled on a plan. Finny prepared to breathe fire on one of the mechs, but aimed for the crowd of soldiers, instead. At that exact moment, G-Eyed began teleporting the mech's missiles back at them. The mechs' bodies had anti-teleport-scramblers, so Bry couldn't 'port the pilots out--but the missiles had no such defense. In four seconds, each of the mechs fired a dozen missiles, and every one hit the mech who'd fired it. Most went down in flames, already damaged from the LLers' attacks.

Hatman switched to his Sonics cap, and finished off the crowd at superspeed. Trickshot, still grumbling about getting hit, fired off enough arrows to distract the mechs. Donar continued proving that Mjalcom was tougher than their mech-metal. They were now terrified to use the missiles, making the LL's job that much easier.

CSFB! yelled at them through Ziles' empathy-channel. "I think he figured it out, he isn't heading back for the foyer.

Finny looked around, and saw that their remaining enemies were all occupied. Donar was finishing the last of the mechs, the crowd was down, and Azule-Arach had just found out that Hatman was faster than he was. Already in-pain and covered with gravity-heavy 'white glop', he wasn't up for someone who could travel at the speed of sound. The red lizard-lady was still out of it, and Nal was a puddle.

The dragon nodded towards Whitney, who cast an illusion over the mech's pilots and scanners/sensors. Donar landed next to the others while the mechs finished each other off, positive that they were fighting the LL. "How fares Nats?"

Finny closed his eyes and "found" him, with Ziles' help. "He's still escorting hostages out, and DK and Ziles are freeing them."

Hattie lowered his comm wristwatch. "I got SPUD, they're sending in a team to secure this room. Let's go after Allion and the rest of the hostages."

"And we're gonna have to find the antennae controls, I thought they'd be in here," Finny sighed. "Still, it's right above us..."

They looked up at the glass cone, which was somewhat intact. An antennae array jutted out of its tip, glowing brightly.

"In a few more minutes, Allion's probably going to get the gem, and he'll be unstoppable...not that he's easy to take down now. When I punched him, it felt like hitting adamantium."

"Aye, I sensed his invisible armor, as well." Donar stated. "What of Exile?"

"He can hold his own--right now, we have to look after the innocent lives, not each other."

Sorceress whirled, establishing a "shock-field" for anyone who got within two feet of her. "Azule-Arach just teleported!"

Everyone paused, but it soon became clear he wasn't attacking them. Finny nodded to himself. "Ziles is picking him up in the west wing. G-Eyed, we're going to need you to teleport out the hostages--but we need to find a way to deal with Azule-Arach, so he doesn't just put them back."

Sorceress' mystic senses picked something up. "We have comp--"

"You'll leave him ALONE!" Gale-force winds tore through the ruins of the control tower, and everyone was blown against the wall--except for Donar.

The source was a brownish-red-haired girl, who was in an Enemy-hunter uniform. "You call those storm-winds, child?" He drew his arm back, Mjalcom in hand.

"Donar, no," Finny said, glancing at G-Eyed.

In seconds, Bry stood over the near-unconcious girl. Trickshot prepared to sedate her, but Hatman stopped him and grabbed her by her uniform's collar. "The antennae controls--where are they?"

"I...I don't..."

Azule-Arach's face lit up one of the remaining monitors. "Lair Legion, if you don't leave, we'll--PENNY!!"

Hatman took Trickshot's knockout-arrow and waved it in front of her face, putting her to sleep. "She's going to jail, along with the rest of you."

"Let her go!! We have people in energy-draining chambers, we could kill them all!"

Azule-Arach turned as he heard pressurized air being released, and then pink energy scratched across his forehead. Ziles kicked him several times for good measure, and looked over her shoulder. "This room is cleared, we could use G-Eyed in here, to give Nats some help."

"You got it," G-Eyed said before he teleported.

"How many more are there?"

"Just some soldiers, they're trying to get DK right now."

Finny chuckled at that. "Where's our yo-yo?"

"CSFB! is still dancing with Allion--and I'm being literal. But Allion is mostly ignoring him now..."

"Yeah, I think he figured out that the main fight was just a distraction. Let's give the others some backup in getting the hostages out, and then, we get Allion."

----------------------

Nestled in the grassy meadows of Spain was a tiny town. It had small stores with a rural theme, mostly unpaved roads, and old trucks parked everywhere. There was a restaurant, a general store, and a tiny post office. Only a few people walked the streets, while children played in nearby grassy fields. The smell of wheat was everywhere, carried by summer-like winds. It was a typical farming village.

Emphasis on "was".

Missiles poured out of the sky, turning a 300-person-community into a warzone. A closed-down garage was reduced to splinters, and smoke filled the air. A girl who'd finally been given a puppy by her parents (they saved for months) watched it zig when it should have zagged. In moments, portions of the town were unrecognizable.

Seven mechs descended from the sky. They had boxy legs and arms, with a somewhat-triangular torso. Missile-launchers were built into where a human's collarbone would be, and they had pulse-cannons, which could be retracted into their forearms. All were silver, with ribbed black segments at their joints. Each was a good fifteen feet tall, and all had small jet-boosters built into the small of their backs.

They landed in the middle of the town. One of them made a loud clicking sound, and after some feedback, a voice emitted from it. "We don't want to hurt you--don't try to resist, and we'll make this as painless as possible."

Several of the mechs had cylindrical backpacks, which they proceeded to remove and set on the ground. Valves were turned, and green gas began to seep out of them.

"This isn't lethal, it's just to--"

A pitchfork clattered off one of the mechs' legs. A man in overalls threw a shovel, but it was turned to ashes by the mech's pulse-cannon. It was pointed almost straight down, burning into the ground. Slowly, the beam moved towards the man.

"Let's show them what happens to troublemak--"

The mech was interrupted again, as two red beams of energy struck both him and another mech. Against his will, the pulse-cannon deactivated, as the electrical systems tried to reboot. But there was a third, larger beam, barreling down the center, heading straight for a third mech...

The retro-rockets built into the mech's ribcage kicked in, pushing him backwards--but the "beam" veered directions at the last moment, and slammed into him. The mech was violently rammed into the ground, and was still being pushed by what looked like a red comet. It dug a path through the green hills, leaving a crash-trail of pushed-up dirt and rock behind it. From his cockpit, the pilot could see the scenery rushing by at an incredible rate, and he could feel the ground he was being forced to tear through.

Whatever it was, it wasn't just an energy attack--there was a powerful, physical force pushing him. The pilot inside the mech was at the wrong angle to use his pulse-cannons, but he fired off missiles, and watched as they flew past his target, and then turned back, striking it. But nothing happened, even after he emptied his missile cartridge at it. In under ten seconds, he'd been pushed back dozens of miles. He could see the other mechs chasing them in the background, while the man--there was a MAN inside that comet!??--was in the foreground.

Screaming, the pilot activated his jetpack, full-blast. It provided some push at first, but he was plunged deeper into the ground, now waist-high in dissheveled earth. His jetpack's power was blunted against the ground; and, fearing the "backfire" effect, he deactivated it.

Every alarm in the cockpit went off, it was picking up a massive amount of energy. But he was already being pushed back by the red-energy-guy, what else could there be?

Several picture-in-picture screens popped up, showing a massive concentration of energy at the man's hands, which were currently grabbing and pushing him. Structural integrity alerts beeped, and he watched as the man fired a blast of energy, point-blank.

When the pilot awoke, he was being picked up by a man covered in black and red, and coated with glowing red energy, which was simmering like a flame. The details weren't clear, his vision was blurry from tears, he must have been crying without having realized it. At first, he wondered how he'd gotten out of his mech, but then saw that it was in pieces, spread out around them. They were on the ground, in the middle of the exploded mech.

The others surrounded him in mid-air, aiming their weapons at him. Coughing--there was smoke everywhere--the pilot tried not to wet himself. He'd expected the fighter jets they'd seen before, but not this!

Bile welled in his throat, but he got one word out. "W-who?"

"Exile."

With that, the pilot's comrades opened fire. Exile blasted into the air, weaving a path through the intersecting energy beams. He spread his arms out in a T-shaped fashion, and two solid-energy battering-rams roared out, knocking a duo of mechs into the distance.

They fired at him from behind, but a circular energy-shield popped up, and the beams bounced off, some striking other mechs. Backing off momentarily, the mechs gave him the perfect opening. He dove into a pack of them, and formed a seven-foot-long energy blade on each arm.

They whirled towards him, placing themselves within striking distance. He lopped off two arms, a leg, and a pulse-cannon before they activated their retro-rockets, getting out of range.

"Screw it! Missiles!"

Dozens of mini-missiles roared at Exile, who was hoping to keep them distracted, so they wouldn't realize that he'd led them away from the village. Instinctively, he took off, letting the missiles gather on his tail. Let them think they were winning, that would mean they'd keep trying to kill him. If he defeated them too quickly, some would run off and realize what he'd done.

He'd put energy containment-shields around the gas-machines, and--thank God--all the mechs had followed him. Right now, they probably thought they weren't wasting time by fighting him, as they were waiting for the gas to sedate the village. But every second he kept them busy was more time for the village to evacuate...and where was SPUD!? There was a large army outside of the fortress, apparently, none had been quick enough to follow the mechs when they'd left. He didn't want seven-to-one odds, but it went with the job.

Now what, though? He'd survived mini-missiles before, the red force-field that constantly covered him in battle had handled them. He'd read enough of Dream's Green Lantern comics to know that heroes with energy-structure-making powers had to constantly protect themselves like that.

With a thought, he could make a second, round field around him, which could be trashed by the missiles and then discarded. But that would take too much time, and might give them a good opportunity to gang up on him.

"Ahh, there we go." Like many energy-wielders, Exile left an "energy trail" in the wake of his flight path. The missiles were very, very close to that, following his movements. With a thought, he solidified a portion of the trail, and two-dimensional, solid circles extended from it. It looked like a string through a series of plates. The missiles didn't have room to avoid them, they crashed into one red circular plane after another.

The mechs were surprised, but quickly brought their pulse-cannons to bear. Exile focused briefly, and three of the mechs lost their propulsion--he'd put ID-energy-bubbles around their jetpacks. Despite the fact that they weren't lined up for a shot, the guns had already been charged, and were about to fire.

Exile hooked up energy-tubes to the guns' barrels, and placed the other end of the tunnel on the other mechs. The guns' blasts channeled through the tubes, and three of the mechs shot the other three.

Lashing out with non-solid energy, Exile blasted a mech's shoulder, and then latched onto the same arm with a tractor beam. He yanked the arm free, and spun it around, knocking it into the other mechs. Three of the mechs were now trapped on the ground, their jetpacks still covered by energy-bubbles.

The portion of the bubbles which provided a "lip" around the jetpacks became serrated, and began spinning, like a buzzsaw. The jetpacks were sliced off, leaving the mechs truly groundbound.

Exile flew below the airborne mechs, and as they shot down at him, they accidentally hit the mechs on the ground. He laughed, and said "It's time to finish this up."

Another "energy tunnel" was constructed, but this time, it was around Exile. It was more like a hollow cylinder, he hovered in the middle of it. Both of its ends were open, and it was about eight feet in diameter. It looked like a giant energy-pipe. Its edges became serrated, and began spinning--he wanted to try a variation on the trick he'd used earlier.

The mechs shot at him, but the beams ricocheted off the reinforced-energy structure. He charged at one of the mechs, heading straight for its torso. However, the torso was the only thing left mostly intact: It sliced off its arms at the shoulders, and its legs at the thighs. The hollow center, which Exile was in, swallowed up the torso. Or, rather, a circular portion of the torso, which had been cut away from the main part. He grabbed onto it, tore it open, and pulled out the pilot.

He feinted towards another airborne mech, but then plummeted towards the ground. The three jetpack-less mechs were easy targets, as they were standing mostly in a straight line. In seconds, the cylinder spat out three cut-out circular segments of mech-torso, and the pilots crawled out and collapsed, exhausted.

The two remaining mechs must have figured things out, as they were roaring back towards the village. Exile blasted after them, and managed to take one out with a long-range energy blast. But the other was still going...

"No."

He didn't want to let Finny down. He didn't want to let Jarvis down. Jarvis' death had reminded him that it wasn't a perfect world, that they weren't invincible. Life was hard and messy. He knew that.

If Jarvis were alive, he'd have continued the tradition--Exile just knew it. Some had gotten tired of heroing and joined the LoR, while some were brand-new to the game. Many of the current heroes and villains were all but unknown quantities, and the LL was stuck with a leader who wasn't all that comfortable leading. It wasn't that things were bad, but that things were weird. The current situation had gotten DK more involved, so something had to be going on, even if it was just a series of changes.

Jarvis would want him to stop the mech from geting to the village. Finny had given him the chance to do just that, to cut loose and see what he was really capable of. He'd made a promise to Jarvis that he'd always do the right thing. He'd made a promise to Finny, that he'd help out the LL as much as he could. He'd made a promise to Bry, that they'd look after each other, and after Lisette and Valeria, as well. They didn't have much of a family, but they were slowly making one, with the LL's help.

The mech dodged another long-range energy beam, but was surprised to see that it was solid--it snaked out and wrapped around him, pulling him back. In moments, energy coursed through it, the pilot had forgotten that ID-energy-structures acted as a conductor for the less-solid variety of that energy.

His cockpit went black, and he felt the ground rush up to meet him. Metal melted, and Exile yanked out the pilot and threw him onto the pile. SPUD had finally showed up, and he waved, heading back towards the village. After making sure the gas-weapons had been disabled, he needed to have some words with the main bad guy...

-----------------

"We fire on three...one, two--"

Lasers tore into a huge metal door that looked like it belonged in a garage, rather than a hallway. A dozen Enemy-Hunter soldiers continued blasting away, but most of their shots ricocheted right off. Most were human, all were humanoid. They stood in one of hundreds of metallic corridors, deep inside the fortress.

They were supposed to have had the easy job. Just hang back, and provide reinforcements. But someone had gotten to the forcefield, and sabotaged the power supply, as well. Technically, the sword was powering the entire facility (except for the gem-summoning antennae), but someone had ruined the tech-medium which converted the sword's power. Most lights had gone dim or out altogether, and the security system was history.

Then, the doors had started locking. Someone was sealing them off, and cutting them off from the hostages. Judging by the fact that a powered-up Allion hadn't shown up to help, at least some of their energy-providers must have escaped.

"Screw it, let's try another door." Right as the soldiers turned around, they heard something hit the floor, the tiny noise barely registered.

Without words, they hit the ground and opened fire. In seconds, they realized that no-one was there.

"It's gotta be a trick--they make a noise and we walk right into something! Stay where you are!"

The men and women stood back up, and stayed close together, waiting. That's all they ever did--wait for The Enemy to decide to kill them. Some had lost loved ones, others lost abilities or dreams. The Enemy had destroyed entire cultures, as well as individual lives. In a matter of seconds, he could end anything. There could be no other explanation, it had to be him. Senseless things just didn't happen that often!

As their subconsciouses predicted, one-by-one, the Enemy-Hunters fell to the floor. None had seen it coming, they blinked, and then it was over. Just like The Enemy--but, it wasn't.

A Knight walked over their unconscious forms. Earlier, he'd thrown a tiny capsule containing an invisible, odorless gas. Ziles had been right--they'd come this way, after leaving another group of hostages. Her empathic abilities made her an incredible tracker, especially when it came to panicked individuals.

But he wasn't too shabby at that, himself. He'd been shadowing them for several minutes, and after making sure they were all out of it, he retraced their steps. His first glimpse of them had been when they descended a staircase.

Ziles contacted him. G-Eyed is here, he's teleporting some of them out. We're too far away from the doors to the outside, so he'll have to 'port everyone past the south wing of the fourth floor.

Got it. I think I've found some more, get Nats to me for an escort.

The staircase was now right in front of him. A small door led into it. It was the only thing at the end of the hall, and the very top of it was lit. He stayed pressed against the wall, bathed in shadows. He removed a small, cigarette-sized cylinder from his hidden utility belt, and jumped up and back.

He pressed himself into the ceiling corner, his back against the ceiling, and his feet braced against the wall. He had to keep pushing, or he'd fall. It would've been easier if he'd used the extendable climbing claws in his gloves, but he didn't want to leave any telltale marks.

He pressed the cylinder to the nearest ceiling tile, and its spinning, magnetic tip unscrewed one of the security bolts. After slipping his hand into the new gap, he was able to lean far enough to unscrew the other. Slithering into the wiring and leaving the ceiling tile as he'd found it, he activated his nightvision lenses.

It was cramped, barely any room. Only two feet high, maybe two-and-a-half at the most. And he'd have to be careful about distributing his weight, even though it was a sturdy metal ceiling, no-one had probably crawled on it before.

Times like these, he was glad that he'd practiced his landings and "light walking". The Knightcave had a pressure-sensitive mat that he often leapt onto and ran across, to make sure that he'd be able to land on residential rooftops without making a sound.

He gradually approached a small amount of light, which was coming from above. As he got closer, he saw that it was striped, probably a maintenance vent.

Voices could be heard, and he removed a tiny, snaking periscope. Its half-an-inch lens showed him the whole scene: People were hooked into upright, tube-shaped draining machines. Fourteen of them, that he could see. He looked among the wiring in-between the ceiling and floor. Judging by the cords going to that area of the room, there weren't any others, as there weren't any other similar cords.

There were four soldiers: Two men, a woman, and a robot (!). It must not have had powers, or it would be with the others, only the "normals" were stuck being guards. There was a table/booth built into the wall, but no other furniture. They all had laser rifles.

Ziles, I need to talk to Nats, and give him this image. DK focused on the stairs. He waited, and then heard the empathic equivalent of an open line. It's me. Find those stairs, quietly.

So far, DK had been avoiding violence wherever he could, too many innocents were around. But this time, he couldn't just gas them. If he did, and the robot was unaffected, it would be ready. They had to strike all at once, and take everyone out in the same push, not giving them a chance to think.

He began to make his way back to where he'd gotten in. I need you to fly up those stairs, you'll see four soldiers, it's three humans and a humanoid robot. Try to lure them in front of the booth, or push them, or something. And try to keep them upright, don't make them duck or fall.

Uh, you got it.

The Dark Knight removed two small pieces of metal from his belt, and they folded outwards, forming Knightarangs. One end was flat, the other had two small prongs. To DK's eternal embarrassment, they vaguely looked like the letters "D" and "K", pressed together. He'd chosen the design because of its boomerang-qualities, and because of the fact that it had both blunt and sharp edges.

Nats sighed, he was pretty anxious about this. So far, he'd just been helping the hostages get outside. Peeking around a corner, he finally saw the stairs DK had showed him, but the vigilante was nowhere in sight. Where are you?

Don't scream, I'm right behind you.

Sure enough, he was. Nats nodded to him, and hoped he hadn't gone as pale as he felt. What's the plan?

Just do what I told you, and after that, I'll handle the robot. You deactivate the machinery--Ziles showed you how to, right?

Yup.

DK waited for a moment, and then said "Go".

Nats flew up the stairs, and tried to get his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. The Enemy-Hunters saw him, and all scrambled to aim their guns at him as he made sure not to hold still. "Um, hi...I'm the hero. You're the villains. You know the routine."

He literally flew circles around them, flying closer and then retreating, trying to compensate so they'd stay in front of the seating-booth.

Okay, they're--

Two Knightarangs ricocheted off the stairwell ceiling, soared into the room, and their blunt ends impacted with the heads of two soldiers who were exactly in front of the booth's center. A human man and woman were on the floor, out of it. The robot and the other man jerked their heads towards the door, giving Nats the opportunity to charge the man, slamming him into the robot. The man slid off, unconscious.

Just as the robot turned towards Nats, aiming, several shurikens pierced his "skin". They all had a greenish tint, and he discovered why when they melted and began to eat away at his circuitry, as well as at his gun.

The robot scooped a gun off the floor and started firing into the stairwell, but something dark and moving was high above the blasts, and now descending towards him.

A metal-tipped kick knocked the robot to the floor, and it saw its opponent. Clad mostly in black, with dull orange lining on the edge of his black cape, was The Dark Knight. Metal circles were around his wrists and five inches up his forearms, with thin metal bands connecting them, it looked like miniature prison-bars. Identical bands were on his ankles. Metallic orange also adorned his head, making a bit of an oval which lined his jaw and went up to his forehead, branching off into two ear-like points. No skin was showing, it was all black material, even underneath the orange. Blank white eyes stared at the robot.

Nats took advantage of the distraction to power-down the draining equipment. DK just had to distract the robot for a few more seconds...

"Nice gun."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" The robot began firing, and DK jumped between the blasts, did a handstand, and rolled, lashing out with his Knightstick. It ricocheted all over the room, and right as the robot realized it might hit him from a weird angle, it did.

And it chose that moment to become electrified.

The robot slammed into the wall, trying to shake the magnetized weapon off. The wall at least absorbed some of the electricity, and the robot was relieved to see that the Knightstick was now adhering to the wall. "You worthless little--" With that, the robot lunged at the detective.

DK sidestepped at the last second, tripping him, and grabbing onto his arm. The robot was then swung down the stairs, tumbling into the hall at the bottom.

The robot stood painfully, dropped the rifle, and pulled out a smaller pistol. He took a standard stance, holding the weapon with both hands, and pointing it up, keeping it level with his neck and lower jaw. Keeping your weapon close was something every soldier knew to do, especially when dealing with heroes that would love to knock it out of your hands.

Unfortunately, that had been just what DK wanted him to do. A single pair of Knightarang-bolas wrapped around his neck, as well as both of his wrists, since they were level with his neck. His hands were pressed up against his face, he could barely see past them. The pressure caused him pain, enough to where he accidentally dropped the gun. While he struggled to escape, liquid metal flowed from the Knightstick, forming a katana sword. With one swift motion, the robot's head and hands were sliced off.

DK unwrapped the bolas and went back to check on Nats. The other three guards were still laying there, but he sedated them, just to be sure. "You ready?"

Nats helped the hostages out of the tanks, most looked shaky. "Yeah, this is the last one."

"Ziles told me that they're gathering a crowd on the seventh floor, so G-Eyed can teleport them all at once. Get 'em there."

"Uh, you got it."

"And, good work."

------------------------------

"Report in."

A blur moving at just under the speed of sound rocketed through an empty draining chamber. "I've covered about two-thirds of the place, nobody here."

"My mystical senses aren't picking up anyone in the north wing."

"Nothing on my empathic scans."

"Found some more Enemy-Hunters, they're all injured and sedated. Nats just left with another batch of hostages."

Finny nodded. "And nothing on the LairJet scanners. Okay, only one thing left to do."

------------------------------

It was hot. Why was everything so hot? Penny had been lying on a cold, metal floor, but now, she was leaning on something warmer. Her eyes shot open, and she expected to have been taken prisoner by the LL or SPUD, but instead, she was in a mostly-transparent tube. The bottom of it was built into the floor, while the top dome had many strange cords sticking out of it. She banged on it, and then tried using her powers, but nothing happened. Why couldn't she use her wind-based abilities? Why did she feel so weak?

She saw Azule-Arach walking around the room, and sighed contentedly. He'd rescued her! They must have hurt her, and he'd put her in a med-bay unit. She looked around the room, and her heart skipped.

The truth hit her like a brick. "No."

She was back inside the fortress, in a circular room. The walls were lined with draining tubes, like the one she was in . All had wiring hooked up to their tops, which was fed into a device in the middle of the ceiling.

No hostages were in the tubes, only Enemy-Hunters. Most were non-powered soldiers. Azule-Arach was at the controls.

"What are you doing?!"

He didn't look up. "We need bodies to get the gem."

"But--"

"The sword is IMPORTANT!" He screamed. He then took a breath, and said "Look, it's like Allion said, some things are more important than your own life. If you were willing to kill innocent people to get power for the antennae, are YOU willing to die?"

"I could choose to put myself at risk, those other people never had a choice! I didn't agree with him. And you're not giving me a choice, either!"

"But, since all of you joined the Enemy-Hunters, leaving your planets and homes to fight him, you're willing to sacrifice your life to get that sword? Even like this?"

"Stop it, your logic is going in circles!!"

"Allion knew that casualties would be unavoidable. You didn't want innocent people to die. I don't want you guys to die, but, something is more important."

"What are you saying...'unavoidable casualties'...did they teach you to say that? Are you running out of reasons to do this?"

He turned on the machine, silencing her. "I...I didn't want to involve you in this. But the LL defeated most of the others, and would notice if they went missing. This room is protected from their scanners, though. They know that all the hostages are out, so they'll stop looking."

Despite the pain jolting through her, she managed to talk. "That still won't work, they'll see that I'm gone!"

"No, I teleported you away before SPUD even saw that you were there."

"And what if they blow up the antennae? The, the feedback will kill us!"

"It'll kill you, yeah."

A pause. "I...I thought you were noble."

"When it's all said and done, I'll have saved billions! Because what I do right now will make things difficult for a monster that's a hundred times more dangerous than The Enemy!"

"You didn't," She choked. "You weren't after The Enemy?"

His silence answered for him.

"You were using us! You were--"

"You're still doing good. Not in the way you thought, but you're helping me confuse a being that has threatened entire universes ..."

"I don't care about universes! I was after the man that killed my planet!"

"Not TOO selfish..."

She wanted to cry. "It's not...of COURSE I care about others, but..."

"Shut up. You all say that, and none of you mean it."

What was he doing? Making her feel miserable because she wouldn't let him kill her? Did he actually believe that, or was he just trying to be cruel?

"You all had the chance to do something...something important, something meaningful with your lives. None of you did, so I'm making the choice for you. You're going to be sacrificed to stop the ultimate evil!"

"Can you hear yourself?? You sound obsessed!"

"It's hard NOT to be...it's the only reason I'm alive! I may be part of a larger group, but I only see them every few years. I'm out there all alone, trying to keep hundreds of dimensions alive! If I don't take this seriously, an infinite number of lives could be lost! I'm just one person, trying to keep trillions or, or more alive!"

She said nothing.

"That's the usual response. Of course, I've only told a few other people about how I feel, but everyone's quick to judge me and tell me what to do. Except when I actually need need to HEAR something...God, something, anything that would help me!"

"There has to be another way to do this...if this problem is as big as you say it is, why not get the LL to help?"

"Because they aren't willing to dirty their precious little hands. I've saved countless lives, I'm ENTITLED to kill a dozen or so of you people if I need to! That's the only way your kind will ever help me--only if I force you to do it. Otherwise, you'll just let me do it all by myself and get killed, you don't care what happens to me."

The color was draining from her skin, taking away the tan she'd gotten earlier. "I...I care..."

"Do you? If your only choices were dying against your will and helping me, or not, which would you do?"

"It's complicated...not...not that black and white."

"It is for me."

"I only said that because I don't know all the details..."

"You don't trust me? Look, I don't have time to explain the universe to you. By the time you small-minded humans finished squabbling over what exactly it meant and how to join a larger existence without giving up their selfish governmental control, we'd all be dead!"

She couldn't disagree with that. "We would have been happy together."

"Stop trying to confuse me!" No, keep trying, he thought. If only she'd act like the selfish humans he'd portrayed earlier, and beg for her life! Tell him that one less body won't make much of a difference, that she wouldn't care about the whole "Trying to kill her" thing, and that they could run away together! She was being selfless in the wrong way!

Before she could speak again, he increased the power even more, knocking her out. Soon, they'd all be dead and drained.

He gradually realized what he'd just done. Unloading his problems on her, telling her how self-centered humanity was...that only made her resolve not to act like that. The person he was, the job he had, it had doomed whatever chance they had of being together. Was he right or wrong? Even before he'd started his speech, she'd never asked to be spared. He'd won their argument, and then she said that they could've been in love.

"No." How much of a child was he? He wanted her to act not in the Multiverse's best interests, but his own. He'd risk all those lives to be with her, to let her go and maybe not have enough power to get the gem. And he was calling her selfish?? What had he done?!

Hesitating, he reached for the controls. It wasn't too late, he could still admit that even if he was right, it was the wrong thing to do. He was willing to kill these people just to get out of doing extra work, and to make himself feel better...and he'd called them selfish. How hypocritical was he?

"I called them selfish...I called her selfish...I...I..."

An audio message exploded in his mask. "Azule-Arach, I need you!" It was Allion. "They're all coming after me, I need--"

It cut out. "No, no, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

All his fault. He'd put her in this position. Now, if he freed her and saved her life, he'd put an untold amount of others in danger. She'd shown him how selfish he was, and the only thing he could do in response would be to let her die, because saving her meant he was thinking about himself, and not others. That's how he'd thank her? What sort of monster was he?

Whatever he did, it would be selfish. Freeing them meant putting a larger amount of lives at risk, and giving into his desire for her. Leaving them to die meant he was taking a shortcut, albeit one safer than other options, which ultimately meant that they'd die because of his lack of faith in himself. It was important to power-up the sword in the Parodyverse, but, was it essential? Whatever he did, someone would lose because of it.

Given time, he wondered if he could find another way. A way to save her *and* to save those he was charged with protecting. But that had been made impossible, because of his master-plan. He'd wanted the Lair Legion to get involved, to use the Enemy-Hunters as cannon-fodder. The less there were, the more chance he'd have later to get the sword away from them. He'd originally hoped to use the fortress' technology to find out more about it, and then steal it.

If the LL won, her death would be in vain. If he hadn't drawn them into the conflict, he would've had more of a chance to save Penny. But they were knocking down his plans, plans that so many had suffered so much for. It had to mean something. He refused to have done so many awful things without some good coming from it.

He had to leave her.

"I'm sorry," he said to her unconscious body. "I love you, and it shouldn't have happened like this. If I hadn't been so arrogant about deserving a little help after all I've done for existence...well, you could have proven me wrong without dying. But..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he teleported to the battlefield, knowing the true horror that was his soul...

-----------------------

Red-and-white helicopters circled the fortress, carrying Red Cross medical personnel. SPUD-issue hovercarriers waited nearby, housing reserves of both their own fighting craft and UN-designated jets. There had been residential areas only a few miles away from what had once been an amusement park, and the debris storm had left hundreds homeless.

Over the past hour, the world had found out about the Enemy-Hunters and the sword. Now, tens of thousands of Spanish civilians had flocked to the scene, and were barely held back by police barricades. Lines of tv reporters were on the outskirts of the crowd, carrying tear-jerking images to hundreds of millions.

Periodically, there would be golden flashes of light, and groups of hostages would be free. Some would demand to talk to the media, anxious to share their experiences. A fragmentary picture of the LL's rescue came into view, as they shared their horror stories of being captured and drained. Earlier, people who had been torn from danger's path during the fortress' uprising had related similar stories.

Untouched SPUD agents carried bruised and battered Enemy-Hunters out of a hole made in the fortress' wall. The crowd cheered whenever they saw more people teleported to safety, and that became deafening when a red blur, tentatively identified as Exile, roared inside the fortress. News helicopters had picked up his battle with the mechs, and on SPUD's order, they hadn't shown the village, as not to warn the mechs to the fact that Exile had tricked them into following him.

The usual group of experts had been dragged out, the Cosmic Philosophy professors who only got to go on TV during an "End of the world" battle. This time, they were joined by archeology experts who were debating about the design of the fortress, as it was supposed to be ancient.

In Alabama, a sixth-grade-class watched the events on tv, as they'd been studying the news for Social Studies. As always, people gathered in the electronics departments of stores like Sears and JC Penney's, forgetting about shopping while they watched what was going on. Foreign Aid bills roared through Congress, as they'd put off dealing with several of those documents for too long, and were now being called on to act. In a retirement home in North Carolina, several old men rocked in their chairs and talked amongst themselves.

"I saw 'em in the war...they'll stop that sword-guy. May be different heroes now, don't matter."

"Yeah, I walked a beat for thirty years, saw stuff I still can't explain. I swear I saw shadows come to life, always found perps already tied up..."

They watched as a new expert came onto tv, a woman in her early forties, with ash-blonde hair and a blue blouse. "There have been legends about The Enemy for millenia, if this guy IS going to pick a fight with him, he could wipe us all out in the process. And if the cosmic experts are right, if he gets the sword, everyone's going to try to kill him before he takes out Death, there are agents who want the universe's status quo to be left alone. That kind of battle is more than anything Earth has ever experienced, and I think it's safe to say that in the last few years, we've experienced a LOT...just being caught in the middle could be enough to--"

In a living room in Texas, a girl looked away from the tv and tugged on her father's sleeve. "Are we gonna die, like Grandma?"

Her parents shared a glance. "I don't think so, honey. There are people that make sure that won't happen."

"Who, mommy?"

Their television screen showed them a chunk of the fortress being blown away, revealing a huge, now-exposed room, which was metallic and bare. A man with a sword tumbled out of it, smoke rolling off of him.

The crowd was pulled back, even SPUD kept their distance. A chorus of gasps went off like firecrackers.

"Them."

Chuckling, CSFB! was leaning on Exile, whose hands were glowing. "Didn't know my buddies had shown up, huh? 'bout time, guys, I was getting bored with him. Only so many times I can tapdance on his head and generally annoy him before I get tired of it."

Hatman sped around to block the crowd, G-Eyed and Exile did the same.

Finny was the last to enter the room, and took notice of the crowd and media presence. After all the death, all the suffering, all the property damage and just plain fear...someone had to show who was in control.

"You're over, Allion. Your hostages are gone, which means you can't get the gem. All of your teammates are down or captured. Give it up!"

Ziles was still mind-linking the team. I can't get into his head, but I can still sense his emotions--he's not quitting.

DK, who had stayed inside, signaled the team. The LairJet's sensors just got triggered, they're powering up the antennae again. They must be in a scanproof room, but I'm tracking them. I'm guessing it's Azule-Arach, he has to have an ulterior motive in this, and wouldn't be above draining the Enemy-Hunters to get the sword.

Allion continued holding his sword in a defensive position. "Can you feel it?? The sword has linked me to the fortress, I can feel the gem getting closer! Thank God for Azule-Arach..."

Hatman glared at him. "He's probably sacrificing your soldiers to do it!"

"They want The Enemy dead as much as I do, I doubt they have a problem with it."

Just on cue, the spider-human teleported in, and was back-to-back with Allion. He glanced around, and his mask-lenses widened. "Wait a minute, why aren't they doing anyting? You just told them about the gem, they should be--dammit, where's--"

In the split-second before Azule-Arach thought to teleport and make sure that the draining machinery wasn't being tampered with, an explosion knocked him into the stratosphere. Everyone turned towards Sorceress, who was frowning. "Whatever we do returns in kind to us. Innocent blood is as volatile as gasoline, and he had a lot of it on his hands. Just had to make a spark."

Allion had been in the center of the blast, but remained unaffected. "That won't work on me! The sword protects me from mental attacks, magic..."

Finny let a beat or two pass, and locked eyes with him. "Hey, Allion. Look up."

Rather than refuse to and get hit by something he hadn't seen, he briefly glanced into the sky, and saw a flaming, energy-charged antennae plummeting towards him. Sorceress turned the sound back on, and he got to stand there and get hit by a fifty-ton rod which had several kilotons of biological power in it.

A wall of ID-energy sprang up, protecting the crowd. Finny tried not to grin, DK was as good with explosives as ever. Of course, he'd freed the Enemy-Hunters first, most of whom were still alive.

On his knees, Allion tried to shrug off the surges of power that were assaulting his protective aura. He raised the sword, aimed it at the LL, and a wave of destructive force lashed out.

The fortress splintered in its wake. Trickshot and Ziles jumped out of the way, while Finny and Donar took the blast head-on. Mjalcom dispersed and even absorbed some of it, before it could widen and strike the others. Finny plowed through it, and hit Allion as hard as he could. No point in pulling punches when the world was on the line.

Allion rolled with it, coming up on his feet, and then plunged his sword into the ground. "You think that's the only way I can get the gem? The signal was already strong, my sword can finish the job, with some help from...them!"

Dozens of empty suits of knight-armor rose out of the ground, each had a lightsaber-looking weapon, and a large, round shield on their other arm.

Sorceress tapped into the mind-network. Those knights aren't just for fighting, I can sense the same summoning-signal in them! Whatever they're made out of, they're condusive to the sword's pull. They're amplifying the sword's power to get the gem here!

"Then trash 'em!" Finny laughed off several energy-swords and backhanded the knights' heads off, then clearing a path to Allion with his fire-breath.

Nats grabbed one of their lightsabers and sliced a knight in half. "What are we supposed to do??"

Hatman, in his Steelers cap, stood still and let the knights swarm over him. With them in one place, Sorceress and Exile had an easy time blasting them to pieces. "Follow our lead!"

"I love it, it's just like Star Wars!" G-Eyed kicked a knight in the throat, teleported the sword out of his hand, and made it reappear inside him, piercing the empty suit from its interior. He snatched it in mid-air, and rapid-teleported just behind several knights who were moments away from attacking an LLer. In five seconds, he decapitated twenty of them.

Trickshot found that plain-old explosive arrows did the job just fine, and was having a blast in their target-rich environment.

Ziles, who couldn't use her powers on these emotionless constructs, had nonetheless grabbed a sword and used her agility to go to town. Running around on walls like something out of The Matrix, she was hitting them from every angle possible.

CSFB! had once again gotten bored, as he used his yo-yo to shatter the knights' helmets, and provided an impossible target for them to hit, keeping them from focusing on the other LLers.

Hattie looked around, and decided to finish things quickly, so they could back up Finny and Donar (and now Exile), who were taking on Allion. "Teamwork, people! Take 'em down fast!"

Trickshot fired several metal-seeking arrows at Hatman, who kept jumping away from them, and made sure that knights got in-between them. Goldeneyed teleported knights straight in front of Sorceress and Trickshot, who turned them into scrap metal. Nats grabbed the knights by the ankles and slammed them around in mid-air, giving Ziles the perfect chance to slice them in half. CSFB! shoved knights into the metal-seeking arrows' path, and made sure Nats' back was safe.

A draconic voice rang out. "LISTEN TO ME!"

An invulnerable tail moving at the speed of sound struck Allion in the lower back.

"WHATEVER happened to you, it does NOT give you the right to do this!"

Allion's legs were weighed down by ID-energy shackles while Donar slammed Mjalcom into his arm.

"You can NOT put lives in danger just because you want to!"

He shoved Donar away, but a red energy-blast took him in the temple.

"No-one has the right to destroy people's lives just because they think it's an acceptable loss!"

A clenched claw to the jaw.

"Listen to me, you monster! Before you face the people, you have to face ME!"

Allion swung wildly with the sword, but everyone backed out of range.

"We will PUT--"

Mystic energy and force-field-disruptor arrows bit into him.

"--YOU--"

Superspeed punches hit him in the ribs, Mjalcom struck him in the neck, and an invulnerable yo-yo richcheted off his skull.

"--DOWN!!!"

Exile latched onto him with a huge tractor beam, and began repeatedly slamming him into the ground. He'd cut the beam, but it would just reform and keep its hold on him.

"Do you hear me? You will NOT do this again! The days of you and your kind are OVER. Anyone--ANYONE--who tries something like this will get dogpiled on by us. Do you hear me???"

To his shock, the tractor-beam ripped the sword away from him. Goldeneyed grabbed it and teleported it to South America, then to a space station, then to other dimensions. Allion tried to pull it back, but it kept changing location, it was hard to get a lock...

"Without the sword, his power will fade...nail him!" Finny, Donar, Exile, and Hatman (complete with his Superman cap) all jumped on him, raining down punches.

"We have to screw up his concentration, and without the sword, he may be more vulnerable to mental attacks..." Ziles pooled the fear and pain that many had experienced in the fortress and surrounding area, and it made an audible clatter off of Allion's forcefield. It wavered, and was weakening...

Trickshot took careful aim, and continued firing energy-dampener arrows at Allion, hoping to do even more damage to his protective aura. It was hard to fire in-between four large superhumans, but for a marksman like Trickshot, it was possible...

Point-blank lightning and ID-energy-blasts and heat vision and fire-breath made Allion wince. Deciding that his immunity to magic might be weakening, Sorceress tried blasting him again. Ziles was still letting loose with empathic attacks.

Nats tried not to let his jaw hang open for too long. Then Exile waved to him, and coated him with an ID-energy forcefield. "That won't make you stronger, but nigh-invulnerable fists hurt...join in!"

"Uh, okay..."

Floating in space, Azule-Arach awoke, and was thankful he didn't need air. With a thought, he tracked G-Eyed across the Multiverse and began teleporting with him; their battle flickered across multiple realities. G-Eyed ducked a kick in front of a waterfall, and lashed out with an elbow while an intergalactic war raged in the background. Azule-Arach watched as the webbing he launched was teleported into a huge purple sun, while stunned alien tribesmen tried to figure out how these two strangers had come into their desert. Both backflipped off of a crystal cliff during the day, and came down on a semi-sentient volcano the size of North America at night.

"I'll take that sword, thanks."

"Not on your best day, you Spider-Man rip-off!"

"I have been called the Arach-Knight..."

G-Eyed did a handstand in the midst of a crowd of ten-foot-tall girls, in an all-female school, judging by their uniforms. "Really? That's--no, that's gotta be a coincidence."

Azule-Arach connected a punch, but G-Eyed hit the ground in the 2001 version of WWII, right between someone in a Nazi uniform and some British soldiers, who looked to be facing off. While there, he sweep-kicked the Nazi and teleported away, and Azule-Arach webbed the same man to the floor, just to be safe.

They reappeared on chandeliers high over a castle floor. "Getting tired yet, spidey?"

"No way." Azule-Arach fired off a webline and dove, swinging towards G-Eyed. But he teleported the chandelier off, and placed it one millimeter in front of Azule-Arach's forehead. He smacked into it, and was then horrified to see blocks of stone being teleported at him, the floor and walls were disappearing. He took off for another dimension, but they kept coming, he banged his shin on one of them. The kid was able to "steal" momentum during a 'port, which is how he could catch falling people and teleport them to the ground without them still travelling at a high rate of speed. And now, it looked like he could accelerate objects during a 'port, as well...those blocks had been sitting still before.

"Aww, did widdle ol' me hurt you?" G-Eyed took advantage of Azule-Arach's teleport-science ponderings and hit him in the head with an other-dimensional Mickey Mantle's baseball bat. "Hey, this isn't such a bad idea..."

G-Eyed, having realized Azule-Arach's main weakness--that he had to follow the sword to get it back--teleported them into an alien wrestling ring. Several large, hairy aliens converged on the spider-human, who wasted time taking them out, giving Bry the chance to drop most of the stage lighting on him. He wished he could link up with the sword like Allion had, and use it, but it looked to only work for Allion.

Azule-Arach jumped away, but landed in the bloodthirsty crowd. After being hit by several dozen of the alien equivalent of purses, he saw Penny's dead eyes staring at him. Hallucination? Or a memory of how he'd left her?

"Get AWAY from me!" He lashed out in all directions, snapping bones like styrofoam.

Bry could feel the Allion's pull strengthening, and he skipped fighting, instead just putting as much Multiversal space between himself and the Parodyverse as he could. Best to get Azule-Arach away from that crowd, anyway.

Right in-between a forest-covered Saturn and a world whose sky and ground were at war with each other, Goldeneyed felt realities shatter around him, and was forcibly yanked back into the Parodyverse. Azule-Arach followed, and both collapsed, near exhaustion.

Exile grabbed onto the sword once again, placing an energy-construct around it, and then anchoring it with a tractor beam. The physically-powerful LLers stopped beating up Allion, and grabbed onto the sword. Finny, Donar, Hatman (still in his Superman cap), and Exile all pulled on the sword, trying to keep it out of Allion's grasp. Supposedly, nothing on earth could keep him from pulling the sword to him. With a touch, all his power could be restored, and the gem could perhaps be summoned. All the damage they'd done would be undone if he so much as held the sword for a few seconds, his forcefield was that easily-repaired.

Sorceress, Ziles, and Trickshot kept blasting away at him. Nats and CSFB! guarded Azule-Arach, and made sure G-Eyed was okay.

The people of earth watched as the final struggle began.

In-between the two pulling forces, both the floor and the ground peeled like dry paint. The ground was shaking, a fly who wandered into the middle of the battle was torn apart by the physical tension. Allion was pulling the sword to him, and the LLers were pulling the opposite direction.

Hatman was actively pushing against it at near-lightspeed, charged by solar energy. Donar was blocking it with Mjalcom, and grabbing onto his own weapon with both hands, using his similar ability to pull his weapon to himself. Finny's claws sank into the ground, and Exile was still adding both his superstrength and his tractor-beam to the struggle.

"MINE! IT'S MINE! GIVE IT TO ME!"

"NEVER!!"

"Dammit, I wish we could do something! Without any energy attacks or projectiles, we'd just be in their way! And we can't help pull, our arms would probably get torn off..." CSFB! cursed to himself, sighing.

"Hey, waitasec, I think we can help..." For the first time that day, Nats felt somewhat self-assured. "Tell Sorceress to keep an eye on Azule-Arach!"

"Don't...don't let go..." Finny growled. "We're all that stands between Allion and unlimited power..."

Nats searched in piles of debris for the crystalline shards of the antennae. "Come on, come on..."

Ziles contacted the others. "Nats has a plan, get ready..."

Somewhere in the fortress, as he finished giving the Enemy-Hunters medical attention, The Dark Knight smiled for the first time in weeks.

SPUD pilots tried to get close and help the team, but the vibrations were threatening to shake their planes apart. They fired energy blasts and missiles at Allion, but all were deflected by the emanating waves of force.

"Gotcha," Nats grinned.

"On my mark," Finny said, "We stop pulling."

Everyone stared at him, shocked.

Nats and CSFB! snuck up behind Allion, raised deactivated light-sabers behind a magazine-sized piece of crystal, and activated them.

Unfortunately for Allion, by continuing to pull backwards, it made the impact even worse. He pushed right into a laser that felt more like an adamantium spear being jabbed into his back.

Nats had figured that if intangible light could be turned into a semi-solid laser using a crystal, surely a solid lightsaber would be even MORE destructive...

"DO IT!" Everyone stopped pulling on the sword, and everyone but Finny and Donar stopped hanging on. It rushed up to Allion, who grabbed onto it, despite the pain. Donar was rolling past him, probably unconscious, and Finny was right in front of him, ripe for a decapitation.

He then realized two things: That a thin coat of energy was around the sword, preventing him from touching it, and that Finny was about to punch him, which probably meant Donar was doing the same...

Simultaneously, a green fist hit Allion's face, and Mjalcom struck the base of his skull. Camera lenses cracked, several of the fortress walls collapsed, and Allion fell.

"We've trashed the aura the sword gave him...which means his connection is gone," a slightly-tired Sorceress said. "He can't call the sword back to him."

Finny patted Nats on the shoulder, accidentally bruising him--he then remembered to tone down his superstrength. "Nice work."

"Oww. Thanks."

Trickshot nodded towards a small glass bubble in the ceiling. "I'm assuming that's where the gem would've showed up, so I'm gonna take it out..." He fired off a grappling-line arrow, and his crossbow began reeling it in, and pulling him up.

Ziles whirled. "Trickshot, look--"

Azule-Arach, barely conscious, teleported Allion into the last operational draining chamber, and hit a button to turn it on. Two seconds later, he'd teleported back to the room with the LLers, and fired a webline to the ceiling, preparing to grab the gem, which was actually forming. Even if he didn't have the sword yet, he could get it later, the gem was an opportunity he'd never have again...

The LLers tried to help, but the gem had activated a failsafe measure: Now, there was a forcefield extending thirty feet down from the tall ceiling, preventing them from taking out Azule-Arach. Even Ziles' empathy and Sorceress' magic couldn't get through. And their only teleporter was out of it...

It was all up to Trickshot. He swung close to Azule-Arach, trying to take him out--he fired an explosive arrow, but Azule-Arach snagged it with webbing and sent it back at Trickshot's rope. In seconds, Trickshot was not only falling, but both of his hands (and crossbows) were webbed together, behind his back.

With a powerful tug on his webbing, Azule-Arach propelled himself closer to the rapidly-forming gem. However, if he didn't remove it from the casing in a matter of seconds, it would dissipate and go back to wherever it had come from. "Come on, my one shot to save the universe..."

"My thoughts exactly!" Trickshot fired off the one arrow that wouldn't backfire on him when it hit the webbing: A disintegation-tipped arrow. It made a circle of webbing disappear as it left the "barrel" of the crossbow. A billiard-ball-sized energy sphere was at its tip, and even though he was facing the floor and falling, and his hands were tied, a one-eyed glance over his shoulder was all he'd needed to aim.

Azule-Arach was so focused on the gem that he didn't see the arrow flying towards him. He hadn't even thought that Trickshot had any arrows that could get through his webbed-up crossbow. Right as the gem was within reach, the arrow sliced his webbing, and caused him to fall.

By the time he was in position to fire off another webline, it was too late. The gem sparkled into oblivion; the moment had passed.

Trickshot was still falling. The forcefield was gone, so the floor would break his fall, rather than a relatively soft energy-barrier. If he hadn't delayed Azule-Arach, the field would still be there, but the planet would be screwed. It hadn't been much of a choice. And there was still too much webbing for him to fire off another grappling cord. He watched as Azule-Arach hit the floor, bouncing twice.

"Great, I'm gonna die before I see Dancer in a wet t-shirt..."

A rope that felt like a bungee cord wrapped around him, and The Dark Knight plucked him out of the air. "I can't believe I'm saving you after you said that..."

The deacceleration cord lowered them both safely to the floor, and Exile locked Azule-Arach in an energy-cube, but he teleported away before Ziles could give him another mental-whammy.

Finny didn't look happy. "Dammit, he almost stole that one! If Trickshot hadn't pulled off that miracle save, we'd all be screwed."

"And if I hadn't come up with the plan to get Allion..." Nats mumbled.

Ziles and Sorceress glared at the guys. "Ahem, we were the ones who kept taking out Azule-Arach..."

"Except for me," Goldeneyed said weakly. "He embarrassed me in front of the ten-foot-tall girls! And I almost had a volcano eat me! But on the bright side, I won World War II."

"Oh, right," Finny said absently. "We saved the world."

And with that, tens of thousands of Spanish natives, SPUD agents, military personnel, and Red Cross staff erupted in applause. Those who'd been watching at home followed suit.

Trickshot noticed all the cameras. "Did they see me make my last-minute shot?"

Nats nodded.

"Did they hear the wet t-shirt comment?"

Nats nodded.

"$&@#*$!!!!!"

"So, what're we gonna do with the sword?" Hattie asked.

"I believe I know someone who can put it back where it belongs," stated The Dark Knight, who was managing to avoid the cameras. "The cosmic world will sleep better knowing it's in its rightful place."

Nats noticed a large group of girls who'd apparently come from a beach, as they were soaking wet and barely wearing anything. "My loyal fans await!"

"No," Finny said, "The clean-up awaits. We have to help SPUD get rid of this mess so people can live here again."

The fortress began to crumble more, and the LLers watched it fade away. "Without the sword to power it, I guess it's going back to...wherever, just like the gem."

Exile caught the barely-alive Enemy Hunters and Allion, who'd been in the higher levels, only to have those floors disappear on them. Nats talked to the girls for a minute, until Sorceress dragged him off. And Trickshot did all the interviews.

------------------------

The sun set over Spain, revealing a cloudless night in which the stars shined brightly. The last of the press helicopters had left, and only SPUD and a few medical units remained. The LL had helped to pick up the hotel tab for those left without a home, backed by the usual charity organizations. Almost all of the debris was gone, and the landscape looked somewhat normal once again.

"We could've done better," Finny said to Hatman, as they sat on a hill overlooking the disaster area. "Four-hundred people dead..."

"Our reaction time was still fast--we saved thousands, but those first four-hundred died in a matter of seconds. Even if we'd been nearby, we couldn't have stopped that."

"It's still early, we'll get better with time. We held the line--that's what counts. I know, we can't save everyone...but that being true doesn't make it hurt any less."

"And we still need to find Azule-Arach, he's responsible for this massacre, too. DK on the case?"

"Yeah."

"Huh, by the way, here's something weird...you know that wind-powered-girl, that had a British accent? The one we took down in the main foyer? They found her in the draining chambers, along with the others. Azule-Arach risked grabbing her, right as we were leaving, and when SPUD was getting there."

"Why would he do that? Seems pretty reckless, there had to be other bodies to grab..."

"Maybe he had it in for her or something."

"Well, yeah. He obviously wouldn't do it to someone he loved,"

---------------------

In the cobwebs between realities, Azule-Arach felt icy guilt flow over him. She was dead, they were all dead, and it had been for nothing. No sword, no gem, not even any more allies. He'd used all his allies, killed some of them when he thought it would further his goals. Was Penny alive or dead? He couldn't risk going back to the Parodyverse, not yet. He'd have to live with the mystery.

But then, he'd have to live with a lot of things.

"Screw it," he mumbled. There was a job to do, it was time for him to get back to work. With or without him, the Multiverse could keep on going--but with him, it had a better chance of survival. Time to start making up for his mistakes: Next time, no matter how many people he had to kill, he'd get the job done.

End

Next: The LL relaxes at home, but the world turns without them, as several new threats appear. While the team tries to bond, the world tries to settle into a slightly-different status quo, as the LL's last mission sends waves throughout society. Who's after Hatman? What strange thing does Goldeneyed remember from his multi-dimensional battle with Azule-Arach? (hint: It isn't about a city) What will DK find out about one of the people he saved in Spain? And where's Finny's new office??

Fin Fang Foom
*flies away*

Follow Ups:

• ag YIPPY!!!! You posted it! Will be reading it all weekend and maybe even part of next week, then I'll finally respond! 23:36:31 4/27/2001 (1)
  • Finny Take your time, yes. If there's demand, I'll repost it after it scrolls off. 23:53:51 4/27/2001 (0)
• Finny And FALL #1, for those keeping score... 21:39:51 4/27/2001 (0)

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