CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Sand Cat opened her eyes, seeing nothing but a rough, monochrome surface. For a moment a memory of the moonbase flashed before her eyes, and she wondered what she was doing lying – impossibly – outside on the desolation of the moon.
Then the fire. She sucked in a breath, the air bringing with it a choking grit. She coughed, her back arching from the uncompromising surface with each spasmodic expulsion of air. The movement was good, clearing her mind. The first thing she saw as she coughed was a hand attached to an arm − the hand was bare, the arm wrapped in a striped blue and white spandex sleeve. The fingers of the hand twitched as the owner groaned, Bluebell's face also pressed in the ground.
Sand Cat coughed again and was soon on her knees. Each spasm of her lungs helped push blood back into her head, clearing synapses and shocking her body back to normal function.
The fire, the city. She focused on the black chipped rock that covered the tarmac on which she had lain, the color far darker, she realized, than the light gray of the moon. Next to her lay Bluebell, unconscious. Next to Bluebell, Aurora and Linear. Neither moved except for slow breaths. Bluebell was the second to stir.
They were in a city square, small and plain and gray, nondescript bench seating surrounding a featureless paved open area. Sandwiched between high-rise office blocks, this secluded spot would be busy on a weekday lunchtime with office workers eating salads and drinking coffee. Around, the buildings were smoking shells, their glass-fronted facades shattered.
It was dark. Sand Cat stopped coughing and blinked, her magical vision gifted by the Goddess enabling her to see in low light. But this was different. It was night but the square, the buildings, were… veiled, somehow. It was like looking through a muslin sheet.
Footsteps, behind her. Sand Cat was on her feet, crouching low, spinning around in preparation for a fight. Nothing. The footsteps stopped, then restarted on the opposite side of the square. She turned again, calling out a challenge, curling her fists as she readied herself for a quick transformation into her spirit form in a heartbeat. The footsteps stopped, to be replaced by laughter. It was loud, brackish, the laugh of a drunken oaf at a frat house party. It bounced around the square then sounded immediately in Sand Cat's right ear. She flinched, ready to strike, but was met with a punch just as her head turned. She flew across the square, landing badly against one of the bench seats. She slumped to the ground, cried out and closed her eyes, but immediately started to pick herself up. The fight was on.
The man walked toward her, stepping over the comatose forms of Bluebell and Linear that lay in his path. Sand Cat squinted, trying to focus on him, but there was something odd about his costume. Like an optical illusion, as soon as she could make out a feature, more of the man's shape became indistinct, one part coming into sharp relief only for a different part to dissolve into headache-inducing fuzz. What she could see was simple enough − humanoid, male, a black silhouette, white eyes with black pupils. There were no other features, no depth at all to his shape or form. From her position, as he walked across the square, Sand Cat could only make him out in two dimensions. And then a white-toothed smile split the face, too wide to be human, teeth immaculate but monochromatic, like a child's drawing of teeth in chalk on a blackboard.
The shadow stopped. As he did so, Sand Cat saw the black haze around the square shimmer, ripple almost. Particulate black matter, dust-like but fine and smoky, hung around the figure, increasing in density around his neck and stretching out to envelop the square. A cloak of dust and shadow, of darkness, un-light. Hovering above his head by a good six inches was an indistinct shimmer of spikey shapes; Sand Cat realized with a start it looked like a crown.
The superhero drew herself up, ignoring the white-hot sear of pain that cut across her back after her violent impact with the bench. By the time the fighting began, it would be healed. Her balled fists fizzed with magnetic animal power.
"Who are you?" Sand Cat spat the words through teeth clenched in pain and anger.
The figure's smile broadened, the white shape sickly against the flat blackness of the face. "Oh, Sand Cat, what's the matter? Don't you recognize me? Don't you recognize one of your own?"
Sand Cat's eyes darted to the slumbering forms of Linear and Bluebell, lying on the ground. Bluebell continued to move her limbs in a very slow recovery.
One of our own? Who was he?
"I repeat, who are you?"
The smile shrunk. "I'd say I'm disappointed, but that would be a supervillain cliché." He walked up to Sand Cat, and bent down, bringing the black mask-like face to within an inch of her own. Sand Cat did not shrink back, did not show any sign of weakness, but even so close the man's face was… indistinct, indefinable.
"See," the man said, his voice now a whisper. "You should know me, and know me well. You're responsible for my death. Fortunately, I have new friends who are responsible for my rebirth."
Sand Cat expelled a short breath of surprise.
"The Justiciar?"
The figure smiled, and inclined his head in mock politeness. "Once, yes. Once a man called Tony. But now I bring the Living Dark to the city. I've been sent on a mission, you see, by friends who know what trust and responsibility are."
"Is that so?"
"It is, because–"
The Living Dark dropped from Sand Cat's eye line. She stood, and looked up to see the resurrected form of Tony being carried by the ankle into the sky by Aurora, corona blazing in anger. So close to the unleashed solar energy of the hero, the Living Dark appeared to whither and become thin and stick-like, his cloak of shadow all but vanished. Even with the increasing distance between them, she could see the sharp white outline of the mouth curved into a circle. The Living Dark cried out in pain, a wail so terrible that Sand Cat was forced to cover her ears.
Linear twitched with a shout, dragging himself to his knees and pressing his hands against the sides of his head to block the sound, a movement powered solely by his autonomic nervous system. Sand Cat could see Bluebell's mouth grimace in pain, but she remained unconscious.
Above, Aurora swung the Living Dark up, throwing him like a tennis ball about to be served. The Living Dark's emaciated body twisted like a rag, and Aurora powered a haymaker into the side of his head. There was a bang as his fist crossed the sound barrier and connected with the insubstantial black form, which bent around the impact like rubber before recoiling and flying back to the ground. Aurora wasted no time, powering down directly after the falling creature, catching it with a one-two-three just above the ground, pounding the Living Dark into the pavers. Aurora hovered, fists ready, waiting for the next attack.
Sand Cat raced across the square, somersaulting over Linear and transforming into her spectral form to gain speed, then twisting in the air back to human form as she reached Aurora. The two stood, looking at the twisted black figure lying motionless in the cratered ground.
"Something else hidden in the meteor shower? Or was this thing in the city already?" Aurora flexed his gauntlets, reducing his aura a fraction. White flame flickered from behind his mask and through the blank eyes.
Sand Cat shook her head. "It's the Justiciar − Tony Prosdocimi."
Aurora turned to Sand Cat, mouth moving in surprise. Finally he found his voice. "What? How do you know?"
"It − he − told me. Said he had new friends that brought him back to life. The Thuban?"
Gravel crunched behind Sand Cat. Her animal senses had realigned themselves after her period of unconsciousness, and she could smell the electric buzz of Linear as his molecules vibrated to a different rhythm to everyone else.
"One, my head frakkin' hurts like a… a… well, something painful. An elephant with a headache? That would hurt, wouldn't it?"
Aurora raised an eyebrow. Sand Cat stared at the speedster, never sure if the aged one was being serious or not.
"Two," Linear continued, oblivious and rubbing the back of his neck, "where are we and what's going on? OK, that's t
wo and three. End of questions. Answers please, and an aspirin."
Aurora gestured to Sand Cat. "Fill him in." He walked between them and over to his wife, Bluebell, who had begun to stir again.
"I suggest you take a moment to clear your head, speedster." Sand Cat noted the slightly glazed look in Linear's eyes. They'd all been laid out by something − the Living Dark, probably − and would need time to fully awaken. "Do you not remember where we are?"
Linear craned his neck, looking around the square and the ruined and still-smoking buildings. "Oh I remember what we were doing and where we were, all right, I was just wondering where we were now."
"I do not understand."
"Well," he continued, still rubbing his neck with one hand while waving at the buildings around them with the other. "This doesn't look much like a real city to me."
Sand Cat snapped her head up, looking around the flat building faces quickly. The black haze was odd, certainly, rippling, causing the view of the buildings to curve out of true.
"You're half-right." Aurora re-joined the pair, supporting a groggy Bluebell on one arm. Bluebell had one hand on her forehead and her eyes were closed, but seeing the concern of her friends, she managed a smile and a nod.
Linear looked at Aurora. "Half-right?"
Aurora waved his hand in the air. There was some kind of smoke, a fine gray mist in the air. "We're in the city, but we're inside some kind of field, or bubble. Something artificial, a construct."
Sand Cat's animal hearing pricked, and she felt a light breeze on the back of her neck, as though someone was standing right behind her. She spun, but there was no one else in the square.
Then the laughter came again. Quiet at first, then building, a chuckle, a polite smirk at an inside joke, then expanding. A laugh, a gale of hilarity, then an insane scream.
The Living Dark rose from the crater where Aurora had put him. He floated in the center of the square, arms outstretched, white smile splitting the black face almost in half. The air swirled thicker now, the dusty shadow coalescing around his neck and spreading outwards once more, forming a cape made of night. The black crown flared over his head.
"Welcome, oh Wonders of the world, to the city of shadow. My city, where I am king. Where I am good and evil, where I am superhero and supervillain."
Linear huffed. "Just another crazy supervillain." He nudged Aurora. "Loop-de-loo and ready for the asylum. Quite like the old days, eh?"
Aurora flared and rose into the air, matching the Living Dark for height. "What do you want?" His voice boomed like an avalanche.
"I want for nothing. And nothing is what I deserve. A world of nothing."
The air darkened further, the black haze becoming black fog. The light from Aurora's rippling corona cut through it, but the edges of the square vanished into ink.
The Living Dark's eyes, the black pupils in the white ovals, darted around, looking at each of the heroes. Still the monster smiled.
"The Dragon Star is not here. No matter."
Quicker than Linear, the Living Dark reached out a pointed claw and grasped Aurora by the neck. Aurora struggled, caught by surprise by the impossibly fast motion. His aura exploded as a yellow and white solar flare, blasting the shadow shape before him. Plasma arced around invisible magnetic fields as Aurora became a tiny sun, striking the Living Dark from all sides and angles. The creature did not appear to notice. With a flick of his arm, the flares flashed out and Aurora flew to the ground.
Bluebell was at his side first, even before Linear managed to turn and reach him. Aurora lay on the ground, in the dark, dark himself. Above his mask, his red and gray hair hung limp, his ever-present halo of fire extinguished. His normally blazing red and yellow costume was dull, the colors still. And his eyes, once glowing white with the power of the core of the sun, were visible behind his mask. Normal, human eyes. Closed.
The Living Dark's laugh echoed around his mist-shrouded domain once more.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
The Dragon Star was high above the hills. Sam got tired of looking up at her. It wasn't like she'd ever go out of sight. The night sky was clear and starry as the Earth passed clear of the Draconid meteors. Against the backdrop of night, the Dragon Star was a blazing beacon, her powerstaff pulsing rhythmically as she hovered, darted, hovered, darted. All the while she stayed on the north side of the harbor, not crossing into the mostly dark city which now sat silently smoking. The superheroes seemed to have done their job, putting out the main fires, but it worried her that the Dragon Star had been unable to reach them.
"Hey, Conroy, Cowl, Paragon, whatever you call yourself."
"Angry eyes, detective, angry eyes."
Sam squinted in annoyance and she huffed, her breath catching in the cool night air as a thin mist.
"Shut up." She waved his comment off. "Don't you have some kind of superhero communicator? Have you tried contacting Aurora and the others?"
Conroy held up his left arm, facing it out towards the detective. He pointed at a flat rectangle of plastic across his wrist. "Yes, I do. Yes, I have. No, they don't respond."
Blackbird coughed.
"What did you say?" asked Sam.
Blackbird looked sideways at Conroy, then back at Sam. "Oh, nothing, officer."
Snik snik.
Sam went to speak, but Conroy held up a hand. The large grounds of the hillside mansion were well lit after Blackbird had found the switch, and quiet. Night insects stirred in the immaculate garden that bordered the wide tennis lawn, but that was all.
Snik snik.
Sam took a few steps towards Blackbird, who stood resolutely with arms folded. "You got something to say, Agent Orange?"
Blackbird screwed her nose up. "Seriously, go fuck yourself."
Sam felt her temper rising, but Joe's call distracted her.
"Seems some meteorites hit your country pad, Mr Conroy." Joe reappeared from the far end of the lawn, out of the shadow cast by a fine, old tree. Sam turned, but couldn't quite see what he was holding.
"Where did you go? What's that?"
The lawn was swept by blue and white light as the Dragon Star returned to the Earth. Her powerstaff was a Christmas tree of flashing colors, and the metallic detector held in her other hand was glowing a light gray. Most surprising to Sam was her face. Beneath the hood, her mask came down and covered her forehead, the area around her eyes, and the top of her cheeks, leaving her nose, mouth and chin exposed. She was smiling, broadly, making the alien superhero look, for the first time, like the dead cheerleader whose body she inhabited. Sam didn't like it.
Conroy folded his arms, and tapped a finger against his lips. "I have a feeling that the detective has just detected what we've been looking for."
Joe's mouth opened. He was holding a multi-faced crystalline rock, the many dull facets making the object roughly spherical. It had a natural, organic, metalloid quality that implied it was just another meteorite, but perhaps one of those rare, special ones that always got their own special case in a science museum. Joe stretched both arms out full, moving the core as far away from his body as he could while still holding it. He whistled, low.
Everyone took a step back as the Dragon Star flew forward. As she got closer, the flat faces of the object changed color, moving to match the reflective gray of the detector.
Snik snik.
Sam glanced around, the sound again at the edge of her hearing. But there was nothing. High on the North Beach hills, the main road and the refugees from the city were half a mile down Conroy's exclusive driveway, their distant chatter a static rush blending with the sound of water in the harbor. But other than that, there was no sound except for the crickets in the grass.
Snik snik.
"Geoff?"
Sam turned at Blackbird's call, and saw she was not the only one casting furtive glances. Conroy nodded.
"You get the feeling we're not alone?"
The Dragon Star reached out towards Joe, who was more than willing to hand the p
ower core over. "How come it landed so far out of the city anyway?"
Conroy turned to scan the edges of his property. "The Thuban were never clear on where it would come down, hence the ability of that little doohickey to detect it like a dowsing rod. I guess they homed in on here as some of our original transmissions were relayed through the satellite dish." He pointed up at the roof of the house, where a perfectly ordinary subscription-television antenna innocently stood. "I guess. I don't know. Dragon Star, ma'am?"
Snik snik.
The Dragon Star touched the power core.
Snik snik.
Blackbird yelled out as Joe was dragged to one side with a shout, his upper arm enclosed almost completely in a black robotic hand. The hand – and the arm to which it was attached – was thin and wiry, but there was enough power in the servitor's basic frame to crack Joe's humerus in two places. He sagged to the ground, the power core slipping to the clipped grass. The servitor flexed its other arm, the wide, white armored limb looking ridiculously large and out of proportion, the large black hand on the end gripping something small and club-like.
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