I perform autopsies for a living, I've pretty much seen a few thousand causes of death, and after working for about seven years I still wish someone would die by drowning in formaldehyde.
God fucking damnit that fucking stench.
- 4chan anon
/The Warworld
October 14, 20:26 EDT/
Brain was smashed across the wall, scattered in a few bloody bit among the pieces of his robotic carriage. Savage was in even worse shape.
"I guess he wasn't that immortal," Green Arrow said, cringing slightly at the carnage. It was only the remains of his usual coat and the DNA match that even indicated that this had once been Vandal Savage. Only Queen Bee was in any condition to be buried in an open casket.
She was still in her chair, thanks to the arm-rests. Some of her guts had spilled onto the oval stone table, as if her stomach had exploded. Which was a possibility.
"Tell me you have some idea what did this," Canary ordered, expecting very little.
So Batman didn't disappoint when that's what he gave her. "It wasn't Angel. This thing walked, barefoot." Both Superman and Batman could somehow detect the prints, despite the oxygen-bleach sprayed across the whole floor. "It big. Vandal's ribcage indicates claw marks, further apart than a human hand could stretch. It's also a mammal, and doesn't look like anything I know of. The footprints seem both vaguely canine and feline, and they don't leave the room."
The bleach left the League with no DNA of the perpetrator's to work with. But at least it didn't add the usual fumes to the odor of entrails, and the content of those entrails. Captain Atom had helpfully turned the ventilation to maximum, making a chilly breeze blow through the room and out of the only door. It didn't help much.
"So what happened to Queen Bee?" Green Arrow asked. Canary looked to the slumping body, which was remarkably free of marks, besides the obvious. "Chestburster?"
Batman didn't even hesitate. "It could have been a shape-shifter. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was Beast Boy." He just said it, like guessing at the ratio of vinegar to wine in a marinade.
Canary didn't know how to react. Should she act surprised? But really, she should have expected this, as it would fit with the behavior of an innocent Batman. She just tried to play along. "Do you honestly think Garfield could have done something like this?"
"No," Batman answered immediately. "The sort of power necessary to rip through so much bone in one swipe, the way this thing did with Vandal's torso, necessitates greater than natural strength and speed. Also, Garfield doesn't have this kind of rage." That was another thing to consider, Canary noted to herself. Oh, wouldn't the team simply love more psych evaluations...
"So, another superstrong. Another name to come up with," groused Arrow. "And what do you get out of the... that?" He gestured at the far end of the table.
A circle, drawn with blood, filled in with a five-pointed star. Various strange, equally coagulated symbols were dotted outside the circle at each point of the star. One looked like a stickman with one too many pairs of arms.
Batman shrugged. "Bad joke."
"Is that really what you'd expect from the kind of people who's managed to kill Vandal Savage?" Canary pressed the Dark Knight. If he were really behind this, she would at least like to know what the hell the point was with something that looked a lot like a bad joke to her as well.
"A pentagram drawn with blood is nothing besides a pop-cultural idea of how you're supposed to summon demons, or the like. You can, but usually it's done before your enemies are killed." That was interesting to hear. From Batman. One could almost get the impression he had a lot of experience summoning hellspawn.
Canary fingered her earset. "Black Canary to Doctor Fate, report to sub-level 417, area 253, EK-12, room 3." The Warworld was humongous, as only a fully hollow planetoid could be, and who knew what the Light had left behind of surprises. Most of the League and Team were currently just scouting through the nearest quarters for threats. And what a joy taking over this place was going to be. So far, several hundred of the Light's servants, workers and soldiers had been apprehended and were being escorted out into the Sahara for further processing. Someone else could take care of that paperwork. Flash would resent it, but was always the most effective at it. She'd make it up to him later.
Pulling herself back to ironically simpler tasks, Canary tried to summarize the course of events. "The Chestburster, if that really is what happened here, was implanted in Bee before the first attacks. The killers were just waiting, and abducting Luthor, bombarding Ghul, was a way of pressing the Light to hold an emergency meeting, so the Chestburster could get them all in the same room."
"That's what it looks like," agreed Arrow. Batman nodded-
"But how did the Chestburster get away from here? If the footprints never leave the room, did it change shape?" Canary asked.
"If it was a shape-shifter, they could sit on the table and put on some shoes. That way we wouldn't see any smaller, barefoot prints," Arrow suggested.
"But all the footwear here is accounted for," countered Batman. Queen Bee was indeed still in her multiple thousand dollar high heels. And Vandal's feet were still in their boots, one in each end of the room.
Doctor Fate stepped around the furthest one as he entered through the door, and two steps inside the room he froze, the eyes behind his domed helmet locking onto the pentagram. Apparently it wasn't just a joke.
"Fate-" Canary started, and was interrupted.
"Hellspawn was here," the Lord of Order declared, speaking softly.
"Wait, so this drawing is actually how you summon monsters?" Green Arrow asked.
Fate looked at Arrow, then the Pentagram again, and Canary got the feeling he only now really saw it. "No, that is merely some creative soul's idea of humor," he dismissed. "But they did perform a summoning. Something demonic was here, shortly. There was a portal, I can still sense the echo of it." His arms snapped out toward the pentagram, and a golden light filled the space above it. "It has been too long, and the portal was open only for maybe a minute, but I can preserve the echo and enhance it. It is work that needs a undisturbed mind and time, but we can follow the demon, and the perpetrator, to their destination."
Good news at last, and two-fold at that. Canary could feel her lips tugging into a smile. She didn't know of any demonic creatures anyone in the league associated with on anything near a cooperative level. Then again, Doctor Fate could be lying. The smile fell away. She'd have to get Zatanna to corroborate this demonic presence. For now she would have to assume Doctor Fate was part of a possible conspiracy.
"Wait," Arrow held up a palm, "are you saying that the Chestburster, the killer here, summoned a demon from wherever they are summoned from, and then went back there with them?"
"Yes."
"I think what Green Arrow is trying to ask," Batman broke in, "is whether an Earth metahuman could survive going there. Or if it's a good idea for us to open a way to that kind of dimension."
"The demonic presence need not have been summoned from an infernal place."
"So the portal didn't go into another dimension?"
"It is too soon to tell. You will be informed when it can be seen. Be done here, and I shall set to work."
"Right, let's get to work." Canary put her hands on her hips. "Have we done everything we needed to do here, gentlemen?"
For the next hour or so, she, Green Arrow and Batman pored over the crime scene one last time, scrutinizing every minutia and detail that might offer up some shred of a clue. Then it was time for the esteemed leader of the Justice League to read several reports of the findings on the Warworld, issue new mission parameters to get the Warworld moving back to the Sol System, and shoo away curious alien starcruisers. Then boom tube back to the Watchtower to read the news for reactions to the hectic day, break her suspicions to Oliver and send Superman to make a press statement. Batman was formally put in charge of the investigation, as was to be expected, and Arrow informally assigned to keep an eye on him. Then paperwork with Barry. The coffee was cold and her watch read 03:55 when Canary decided that her day had gone on long enough.
/The Watchtower
October 15, 07:00 EDT/
She managed barely three hours sleep when Rocket shook her awake. "Uh, we tried to let you get as much sleep as we could, but you really have to get up."
One did not become a superhero by not having considerable amounts of heroic willpower and self-dicipline, so Dinah forced her eyes to open and not glare at the younger woman. "What's the emergency now that even Superman can't take care of?" she inquired grumpily.
"Superman announced that the UN general secretary, Bialya's absolute ruler, and several of the Justice League's greatest enemies were all been killed yesterday. Also, we have a gun the size of a moon. Some people shat themselves, and now the UN has called an emergence session. It's in one hour. The UK representative was helpful enough to let the press know they'd want WaWo under UN control."
Of course everyone had to go and get so fucking febrile at the same time. Everyone couldn't just slow down a little, because that would be too much to ask. Canary sighed, then stood out of her mattress, which promptly swept up and into the wall of her office, duvet and everything, leaving Canary standing there in her underwear. And her suit was down on Earth.
"Get me one of the Father Boxes," she ordered Rocket. "And some of the Bat Coffee. I have a feeling I'll be needing both today." Rocket was out of the office by the time Canary had staggered into her chair. She turned on her lap-top, slapped herself awake, put on her earset and dismissed the stray thought regarding the combat drugs in her deskdrawers. That way lay dependancy. Then she got to her mail.
Fuck: The good news was, Doctor Fate's portal got up and safely opened while she was asleep. The other news was that it lead to a dead end, of course. Figuratively and literally, which indicated to Canary that someone out there had a sassy sense of humor to go with the blood on their hands. The email read: "`The demonic entity opened a portal in Omsk, Omsk Oblast, Russia, in the cul-de-sac pictured in the attached file. It maintained this portal while opening another portal from Omsk to the call from within Warworld. The entity must be powerful to have managed such a feat. Of course, the echo of the other portal has long since disappeared. - Sincerely, Nabu´" At least he'd learned how to use the internet.
Interesting: Arthur's investigation team had located the Lazarus pit under a seamless cover of the recently formed, underwater crater. It seemed like the ground had just swallowed up the pit on its own, so natural and fluid was the composition of soil covering it. No idea so far by which technique this had been accomplished, but it looked very recent.
And oh yeah, fuck: She electronically greeted Superman, Wonderwoman and Captain Atom good morning across the com: "My office, in ten minutes." Then, across a single-link channel: "Olly, bathroom number 2 on deck 2, in two minutes."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you too, Godfrey. "Yeah, I need a breakfast to go in about eight minutes, I'll take a number eleven, but hold the olives." Fuck olives.
Rocket finally got back in while Canary was half-way down her list of unskimmed reports. "Here you go, anything else?" she asked, handing over the `World's-Best-Chairman´ mug and the Box.
Canary downed half the infernal, life-giving concoction. What was his secret ingredient? Amphetamines? "Why didn't you just boom tube in?" Canary asked the younger woman.
"Uh, because we're in the same building, it isn't that far-" Canary was out of coffee.
"Watch and learn."
Five seconds later Canary was in the shower, naked and washing off the Saharan dust.
"Oh, hello there, that's one way to make an entrance," remarked Oliver, standing outside the grainy glass enclosure.
"Talk to me, Olly. Tell me something good. Please."
"Batman isn't trying to hide anything, I'm sure of that. And you wouldn't believe the toys we're pulling out of WaWo. That's good, right?"
She could. And boy did she like long, hot baths. She'd have one when this crisis was over and done with. "They're calling for blood down there on the ground, Olly. And we have nothing to offer, besides our own tender asses."
"Well, what the worst that can-"
"Don't." Soaped, rinse, scrub furiously. Good thing both earset and Father Box were waterproof. "What else can we try?"
"Interrogation, but that'll give us away. Have you read Atlantis' report on the Lazarus pit?"
"I have. Can't off the top of my head think of anyone capable of that."
"Me neither, but I'll look into it... Um, look, do you think Brain might have been playing us, as, you know, some kind of last hurrah?"
"You're not wrong. It just doesn't seem his style. But I'd rather err on the side of caution. Towel."
One was thrown over the glass door as she turned the water off. "Here."
"Thanks. Keep working your end, and I'll try to keep this boat in one piece."
Boom. Dinah Lance's apartment. Several wardrobes filled with prepared and pressed sets of clothes for any and all occasions. Pants suits, drab business grey over white shirt, sharp but neutral. Tie? Dammit, go with the matching grey. Make-up? No time. And she still didn't really need it. Ha.
Boom. Her hair was still damp and everyone in the street were staring when she threw some bills on the counter of the sandwich bar and politely demanded her breakfast, she ordered it eight minutes ago dammit. Boom. Office. She could get used to this.
She was buttoning her cufflinks when her second and two of the former chairmen entered. "'Morning, Canary," Superman offered.
She cut to the chase. "What do we do with WaWo?"
"We're still continuing to take a full inventory of the Warworld's own main weapons from where we had to leave off last time," Captain Atom started. "And the stock of personal and heavy weapons lying around will put arms manufacturers out of a job here for the next decade or so, I would estimate. I'd still like to make sure none of this falls into the wrong hands."
Wonder Woman took over: "And if we let the governments of Earth up here, it will be a race to see who can steal the most guns and technology."
That was true. Not because every government out there was pure evil, but because with so many different agendas involved, someone was going to cheat, and then you'd simply be stupid not to cheat as well. In fact, now that Canary thought about it, that race was already on. Good thing they had a head start.
"Everyone is going to try to make Justice league members smuggle out information, at least. If not with bribery, then threats." Whoever controlled the Warworld, controlled planet Earth. Or at least, could contend with the League. The full scale of what they had on their hands was just now dawning on Canary, so distracted had she been with the deaths of the Light. Fuck. "I'm calling a code yellow," Canary announced.
The others didn't object, seeming to think the same thing.
"We still need to reassure the UN, and the general populace," Superman advised. "And we can't stay on code yellow indefinitely. Sooner or later we will have to hand over the Warworld, or the governments will try to even the scales."
"Arms races, metahuman programs, the works." Captain Atom didn't look very enthused with the prospect either.
Superman somehow wasn't intimidated by the political work before them. "We at least need to secure anything too dangerous, and then we can arrange an orderly transfer of the Warworld to the UN. We can work something out, all we need is time."
"But when we don't unconditionally hand over the Warworld immediately, that's going to cost us," Wonder Woman said.
"What can we do?" Canary asked.
"Give them something else," the Amazon princess suggested. "Such as the Light killers."
"Proving that we're not suddenly murderers should help things calm down," Superman agreed.
Canary sighed. "We have a lead or two to follow on that, but we're still a long way from catching up with the perpetrators. Is there anything nice and safe on Warworld we can give away as a peace offering? Besides Father Boxes, obviously."
"Yes there is, I was just thinking the same thing," Captain Atom said. "We have several small spacecraft in various hangars around WaWo, interplanetary capacity mostly, but also a number of interstellar cruisers."
"Good, how fast can we sweep one of those?"
"We can have a small one with you at the UN session. The big ones are going to take the Green Lanterns and some days to scan and secure."
"Do it." It probably wouldn't help much, but every little had the possibility of helping. At least nothing directly implicated the League in the Light killings.
Then it hit Canary like a needle in her chest. But she didn't let it show. Instead she finished her round of planning, and when the three superhumans had been dismissed and left the office, Canary leaned back in her seat and stared at nothing for a bit, taking stock: She still had her breakfast in it's little plastic box in front of her, about half an hour before she was expected in New York, command of the most powerful organization in the Sol System, and the prospect of a looming cold war between the League and Earth's governments in front of her. And in Metropolis, Mercy Graves had the pictures to push that prospect even closer.
If she was to do anything about that, now, she would need a mind-reader. Graves couldn't be so cybernetic that she was immune to telepaths, surely. But only the Martians could help here, Canary didn't know if they could be trusted, and Graves had to know all of this already. She'd be prepared by now.
Could the League afford to disclose a video which clearly showed a female, superstrong flier abducting the UN general secretary?
God, how freaking distracted had she been?!
For a few moments, Canary found herself absolutely furious with Batman, Atom, the Wonders and the Martians, for putting her through this exhausting river of shit. But on second thought, the alternative was to let the Light keep control of this terrifying amount of firepower. And what a traitorous second thought that was; had she just condoned these murders?
Dinah stopped herself before that line of thought could get momentum. She needed to focus, eat breakfast, decide whether to make the Hell's Angel recording public. Everyone in the League already knew, and if she tried to keep it secret, it would just be a matter of time before someone leaked it. Probably Oliver...
It was with such considerations going through her head, scarfing down brown rice and salad, that her earpiece chimed softly, signifying that someone was calling her. She reluctantly tapped the device with a single finger. "Youtube," said Malcolm Duncan's voice. "Search 'Codex claims responsibility for Light killings'."
Canary hesitated. Everything was going too fast, and she was only mostly human. This couldn't be real. "Is this for real?" she asked. She knew the answer before she even knew she'd been speaking aloud; They had seen this, all of it, coming.
"I wouldn't have called you directly, at a time like this, if I didn't think so," Duncan confirmed. Canary had already typed in the words and was looking at the first four seemingly identical videos, judging from the thumbnails. Compared to the time of upload, the number of views were astronomical. She clicked the first result.
And there he was, alive, though not exactly well. The miserable state he was in was so alien to this man, it took Canary a few seconds to recognize him. But it was Lex Luthor, shivering with his arms apparently tied behind the chair he sat on, wearing only a ripped set of pajamas, bruises and blood. He was sat in an empty street, in daytime.
She paused the video. "Guardian, have you notified the investigative team?"
"I called them right after you."
x ¤ x
A single floor below, in the observation room, the large middle screen was showing the same video to a cluster of superheroes, Team and Justice League both.
"This is Codex, with a message to everyone," a female voice spoke while Luthor remained still and stony-faced. And Hell's Angel stepped out in front of the camera behind him. She was still wearing her grey-and-blue biker suit, but the gloves and helmet were off.
"Jesus Christ," John Stewart whispered.
She was a kid, maybe 16, probably less. Her waist-length hair was an unnatural crimson red, skin nearly orange and eyes solid emerald green, her metahuman biology entirely obvious.
"I am December 9," the girl said, looking directly into the camera. "I am the one who abducted Lex Luthor, now 24 hours ago. As everyone investigating this abduction should know by now, I am not working alone. We have eliminated Clarion the Witchboy, Ra's al Ghul, The Brain, Vandal Savage and Queen Bee of Bialya."
"Not-on-the-internet-not-on-the-inter..." Flash mouthed silently.
"We did it alone, by our own decision, because we wouldn't allow this group of maniacs to continue their plans for world domination. And we wish to make it clear that we are in no way affiliated with the Justice League."
"Thanks," mumbled Red Arrow. John couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic.
"In order to prove that I am not a Martian shapeshifter, I will demonstrate my plasma projection abilities," December 9 held out her right, ungloved hand, which glowed neon green. "... on Lex Luthor."
The video ended.
Martian Manhunter broke the ensuing silence. "We have received a video file on the Justice League official email account."
It was the rest.
Fifteen minutes later, J'onn broke into a heated discussion about the pixels depicting Luthor's fiery execution and the nature of absolute certainty, silencing Red Tornado and Flash. With an open connection to Canary, who was now in the UN building, he said: "Luthor's body has been recovered on an anonymous tip in Punta Arenas, Chile."
/The GBS 12'o'clock News, with G. Gordon Godfrey
October 15, 12:02 EDT/
"Our superhuman `protectors´ won't let UN inspectors into their new toy of mass destruction, but don't worry, folks! Because they don't know the alien that crushed General Secretary Luthor's head. Scout's honor."
/The Watchtower
October 15, 10:44 EDT/
"The burns are consistent with plasma weapons, if plasma weapons had palms. The video is high definition and we have a dozen CGI specialists unanimously swearing it's the real deal."
"And we have no idea who December 9 is."
Beast Boy. Beast Boy.
"Speaking of palms, we've found that the burn marks on Luthor's hands are consistent with the honeycomb pattern of a waffle iron."