Tangible

Chapter One:

Dreams and Premonitions

Part I

Summary: Funki-delic dreams and bunnies being slaughtered. Eventually anyways. Part One isn't filled with ear-waxy goodness, but perhaps we will force Part Two to be. We will see, we doubt our abilities, for they are not funky fresh and hip. Woe. Woe upon us.

(Eventual slash VxR).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything okies? So once I went to the beach, and the sun was very cold, but the sand was very hot, and for some reason there was this chick singing in the lake. She threw a sword at me. I almost died. But now all the sudden I'm on a quest for an unholy goblet…what? Yeah, I know it's a disclaimer, but so what? Can't I relate my summer experiences? No? Okay then, on with le story!

1:00 a.m – Present – Dakota City – Virgil's bedroom

During the 1900's a literary movement had formed, dutifully titled symbolism for its theories that reality was unique to each individual. Every object that the five senses could decipher were naught but symbols of a "Greater Truth". The ultimate Truth, which surpasses life, death, and perhaps all human comprehension, was found to be –

Blue eyes flickered open. The world was a fuzzy place wasn't it? Fuzzy…meaning - a groggy hand slipped from under heavy covers, lethargically fumbled onto a hard bedside table, and searched with prying fingers for sight. Delicate glass…yeah that's it…where do they go? – oh – right, the bridge sits on the nose, the handles grasp behind the ears…

Richie sighed. He wished he hadn't found his glasses so soon, wished he hadn't glanced at the bright green numbers that flashed on his friend's alarm clock. One o'clock. Why was he awake? Despite his fatigue, he tried to further rouse himself; not that he wasn't conscious - no, that wasn't it. But he wasn't awake enough to hear the hum of information and calculations that usually provided a soothing background noise to his thoughts.

One…two… four over pie, the depth of the Atlantic Ocean, the square root of 560, did you know that rats could survive a five-story fall with no injuries? Cat urine glows green under a black light. Francis Bellamy was the author of the pledge of allegiance. The word "nerd" was coined by Dr. Seuss in his book If I ran a zoo…

He smiled. Yes. Everything was back to normal. Now that he could think straight, he assessed his situation. It was Saturday; he had stayed up late with Virgil; playing video games, wrestling, and patrolling Dakota city, though not necessarily in that order. He had been having a dream about…reading a book? How dull…and he had woken up before he was able to finish!

Richie tried to remember the meaning of the dream text…it was…reality.

And - the ultimate truth – was - his stomach turned. He couldn't remember.

Something cold slipped from his heart to his toes, - something like fear – which was completely baseless and irrational, and therefore not worthy of too much attention…Right? With a sigh he rolled over, and found himself face to face with his best – albeit soundly asleep - friend.

Lucky bastard.

He briefly considered jabbing the other boy in the ribs so that he may suffer some sleep deprivation as well. Instead he merely decided to study his partner's face. The cold fear melted away as his eyes took in the familiar sight that had always been pleasant to gaze upon. Taking off his glasses, he decided it was better to go back to sleep now that he knew why he was awake than to stay up wondering about it. He sighed and moved closer to the comforting warmth of his friend, closing his eyes against the other's chest. He tried to regain unconsciousness. Which worked well.

For about five minutes.

BEEP-BEEP-beep-BEEP-BEEP-beep-BEEP-BEEP-beep…

Richie growled. Stupid backpack! Grumbling and complaining to no one, his body heavy as lead from lack of sleep, he rolled away from the other teen – and onto the floor. Backpack sidled over, blinking its bright red eye into Richie's tired blue ones. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, he realized that he had taken his glasses off again before he had settled down beside his friend. Darn. He had already fumbled in the dark for them once, and now he had to do it again? Really why didn't he just get laser eye surgery?

Oh yeah, because Virgil said his glasses were cute.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the little robot, which had ceased beeping to await its creator's command. If backpack was beeping like that - with that certain tone - that special beat - then it wasn't a warning about a meta-human, or any kind of criminal activities.

No … that type of beeping was…the special hotline he had set up for Justice League contact only. He coughed lightly to clear his throat.

"This is Gear."

12:25 – Present – Intra Space

Rage welled within her, Morgaine Le Fey would not be quieted.

She steamed in anger, bristled with disgust, and seethed with a want for vengeance.

And in this blind stumbling, as she searched through the foggy red film that covered her hateful eyes, she had found it.

She had found the answer.

One book had held all the words she would ever need to know, one book had shed light on the mystery she had never contemplated, and opened up an opportunity for revenge.

"A Greater Truth." Those words clung to the walls of her mind, refused to let go of her imagination. The Truth had been written in such simple language, yet she found it hard to decipher.

It was but a riddle created at the hands of a demon, trying to lure in a curious soul, so that maybe both the searcher and the creator could find some sport.

Thus must have been the case, no human could write such words, breathe such philosophy…

She shook her head; she would make this work to her advantage. She was skilled, lifeless and immortal; she had the benefit of many years experience in the black arts of dark magic.

But she was stuck, in the distance between many universes. All around her were life and death, memory and paths not trod on by one universe, yet embraced by another. It was an in-between place, a glitch in the fabric of time and space, and there was no way out.

Until now.

She held up the writing, felt the heavy material that bound the pages together, and was at once certain.

This novel was bound by none other than the infamous substance of a soul-shell.

The only known material that could cut through any dimension, time, space, or otherwise…

Quickly she tore off a corner of the binding, and, spinning it in her hands while deftly chanting her spell, wove it into the grandest knife the universe has yet seen. Without hesitation, without even admiring the shiny luster of this grand object, she cut into the nearest dimension, and was sucked in headlong.

A final shriek of triumph rang and rebounded on the walls of time.

Then all was silent.

12:55 a.m – Present - Watchtower

It had been a grand vision at first.

A pleasant courtyard had swum into his view, two young boys were playing around a magnificently carved fountain from which the clearest water was spouting. His eyes seemed to be floating peacefully around on their own accord when he realized that there was something familiar about the youngsters.

Two names entered his mind briefly, only to seep away like so much water through outstretched hands. It didn't seem to matter, everything was so peaceful…

He took in the white blocks of stone inscribed with foreign lettering, and the beautifully intricate designs that were spread upon all the masonry, and led towards the grandest palace he had ever yet seen. Its spires spread toward the sky, wide windows reflecting all of the nature around the architecture, as well as the smaller buildings of some sort of town or city.

Whoever lived there was obviously some kind of hideously wealthy royalty.

His observations from his own eyes had stopped then. He was suddenly within a foreign vessel, someone else's body. What was now his hand, a feminine one armed in golden metal, rested against the side of a stone basin.

Within the basin, reflected in a murky liquid, was the image of the courtyard, the two young boys now at rest, leaning against each other, their backs resting against the fountain. A heavy hiss swept through the room, and he realized that 'his' body was tense with a strong mixture of such dazing negative emotions, that he knew the hiss had escaped from this body's lips.

"I couldn't get you back from your own dimension, oh hateful league" his lips moved, yet, he didn't hear his deep voice penetrate the thick silence, but that of a woman's.

"I may not now be able to take vengeance upon your wretched souls, yet mark my words," the golden hand rose and clenched itself into a threatening fist that shook with rage "I will gain that power. And when I do, there will be no other power in any of the universes that will save you!"

He felt a twisted smile form on his lips, completely against his will.

"And to make my vengeance all the sweeter, I've found your newest recruits." A harsh laugh escaped from his throat, the same heavy voice of some woman who's identity was at the tip of his tongue " And do believe me, I WILL MAKE THEM SUFFER!"

The thick laughter filled the small dungeon J'onn found himself trapped in. He suddenly was released from the body, and, somehow managing to turn his body-less self around, knew now who the threatening lady had been.

An emotionless mask shone brighter than ever in the dark dust of the stone caged prison. The strong body defiant against the bonds on her feet. He knew those bonds wouldn't hold her unless she so allowed it…

Morgaine Le Fey was back.

J'onn awoke from the dream abruptly, a feeling of fear cascading down his spine. She was back! And she was plotting evil even as he roused from this very sleep!

And she would have her revenge, but she was first going after - !

He rushed to the nearest computer, dialing the number that had been left by the excitedly nervous younger heroes the last time they had joined the league on a mission.

There was the sound of a phone being dialed, ringing, and then –

"This is Gear."

The groggy sounds of a teenager who hasn't had enough sleep.

"Gear, this is J'onn." He tried to keep his voice from sounding to anxious " You'd better contact young Static, the two of you are needed at the watchtower."

He ended contact swiftly, before the young boy could ask any questions, and rushed to get a ship ready to bring the two heroes to the base.

End Part I

Yay. I did it. That took me two weeks, for I am pathetic, and am horribly bogged down with homework. As long as it took to write it only takes about thirty seconds to read, I apologize for this. :sob:

Anoki will try her hardest to update at least once a week, if anyone so happens to become interested in this little newbie's writing. She apologizes in advance if she becomes late with updates, she does not mean it as a personal offense. I'm not so sure how clear the writing was, so any questions one has should be asked through reviewing, and I will try to answer them. Till then, Sweet dreams.