“I see the future, dear,
but I see danger,
stranger beware.”

The ‘meeting’ was as much virtual as literal, as Brainiac 5 had wasted no time dispatching teams, giving them their assignment updates in transit, once he cracked several encrypted datafeeds pouring forth from this ‘Oracle’ to criminals all over UP space. Thanks to information provided by missions as diverse as Chameleon Boy’s Sklaran infiltration and Ultra Boy’s old contacts on Rimbor, as well as the ambush of Violet’s team by the Interplanetary Gang, he had advance information on multiple high profile raids, as well as a half-dozen lesser schemes more appropriately handled by local heroes, or the Science Police.

Dozens of successful lower-profile heists have kept the SP baffled, as the presumed-to-be Naltorian Oracle seemed to be able to anticipate SP response, and forewarn his criminal clientele of exact response times and tactics. Dream Girl had slammed the table in annoyance, “That’s not how it’s supposed to work! This is so frustrating.”

Brainy had said dryly, “Now you know how the rest of us feel.” Dreamy shot him a withering look, but he’d already turned to address Dawnstar, and her well-honed look of faux outrage was wasted.

“Have you had any success at tracking this ‘Oracle?’” Brainy asked, and the winged Starhavenite simply nodded in the negative. It was Wildfire’s turn to slam the table in frustration. “This is ridiculous, does everyone know this tesseract trick?” Dawnstar only looked bemused, countering, “It’s flattering, really. Before this, the only Legionnaire that villains regularly took special precautions against, by hoarding Kryptonite, was Superboy. I count myself in good company if our enemies are considering me as much of a threat to them.”

Giving this side-conversation precisely as much attention as he felt it deserved, which is to say none, Brainy turned to Ultra Boy, “Jo, the Rimborian government has sent us legal claims for expenses related to your disruption of advertising revenue, but I already had legal standing by. Do not reply to them.”

“You had lawyers standing by because of Jo?” Tinya asked with a too-calm expression, clearly spoiling for a fight.

“No, I had lawyers standing by because of Rimbor.” Brainy said. “If you’d gone to Rimbor, I’d have prepared for nuisance suits regarding illegal trespass due to unregulated phasing. And if Imra or Nura had gone, they’d have been prepared for nuisance suits regarding invasion of privacy via psionic means. Making up regulations and then fining visitors for breaking them is how the Rimborian government funds itself, in absence of any sort of consistent schedule of taxation.”

“Wait, so they’d sue Dreamy just for *dreaming* of a Rimborian?” Jo asked, with a wink at Nura.

Dream Girl just snorted, “As if.”

The oort cloud of the Xanthu system is thick, by the standards of oort clouds, but such distances still separate the various asteroids and cometary bodies that you can’t see one from the next. As a result, it’s hardly a surprise that this latest ‘Armory of the Ancients’ had gone undiscovered so long, even with one of the UP’s charter worlds in-system. The first Armory had yielded up the terrible Atomic Axe, and everyone knew how that story went, so exploration had proceeded with great caution, and as little public fanfare as possible, making it something of a mystery how the Legion of Super-Villains had discovered the covert SP research expedition to this site.

The Cruiser ride to Xanthu had been somewhat subdued, Tinya observed. Dirk and Brek had immersed themselves in a D&D simulation, Gates was focused on writing something, digits clicking furiously as he input what was probably another of his tiresome political manifestos, Tellus was meditating or possibly napping?, his nodules rippling slowly through soft pastel colors in a soothing, almost hypnotic display. Brin had settled into one of his usual funks, spawled out over two seats, fingers thrumming along to some angry staccato beat, and Jan, uncharacteristically, had been curt and dismissive, the motion of his distracted eyes all she needed to tell that he was accessing the infosphere. Tinya hated to pry Okay, that’s not entirely true…, she thought, but his attitude seemed like it could disrupt the mission, and she was concerned, not merely curious, as she used her Espionage Squad codes to covertly peek at his public browsing history, to see if it provided a hint as to what was weighing upon him.

“UP resolution 5418.312, on the development of Trom...” Tinya read, and immediately recognized this perpetual thorn in Jan’s side. Years ago, some guilt-obsessed faction within the UP Senate had declared Jan the caretaker to his homeworld, as the only surviving Tromnite. In the interval, he had received thousands of ‘offers’ to open up his world to development, each with it’s own promises of fame and fortune, each as summarily dismissed as the one before it. Reading forward, she was appalled by the naked opportunism on display. The words seemed innocent enough, but even on the periphery of her mother’s political career, Tinya had learned to see the subtext. Officially, the UP wanted to use the DNA fragments of the victims of the Tromnian genocide to recreate the species, cloning them to repopulate their lifeless world, but it didn’t take a political genius to recognize that some factions supporting this wanted to create another voting population that they could take under their wing, and thereby use to bolster the strength of their own voting blocs, while other more mercantile concerns were salivating at the thought of thousands of transmuters becoming available to tempt with the offers that Jan so handily dismissed out of hand. What was being sold as a grand act of humanism, to give the people of Trom a second chance, was instead a school of sharks, circling for a great feast. Jan himself had surely been approached, in his quasi-official position as caretaker of Trom, but the fact that the resolution being discussed had no mention of him or his support, might as well have screamed to the skies that he was in opposition.

Movement behind her startled her, and she looked up to see Jan standing behind her. His face betrayed no emotion as he said, “We’re almost there.” Regardless, Tinya knew in the pit of her stomach that she’d been busted. “It’s outrageous that they want to dig up your people to add a few more seats in the Senate, and a new population of transmuters to exploit,” she said softly, not wanting to leave this hanging unspoken, “And I was worried, not just nosy. And now I’m pissed.”

Jan’s face remained cold. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen.” He raised his voice and spoke to his Flight Ring, “We’re here. The bulk of the asteroid is shielding our arrival, so we can park here and arrive undetected.”

Brainy’s decoding and interception of the Oracle’s detailed data feed about this facilities location and defenses had come too late for a massive SP reinforcement, which, depending on which group of criminals had *received* the data might have just added more potential casualties to the impending heist, and so he had dispatched this team to help reinforce the expedition. As the facility on the far side of the asteroid broadcast a distress signal, Tinya recognized that they had arrived too late to reinforce the facility, and were now playing defense…

Across the small asteroid, only two kilometers away, a small cruiser dropped out of hyperspace only a thousand meters away, an act that seemed utterly suicidal, given the precision of the calculations necessary to jump into or out of hyperspace within even hundreds of kilometers or planetary bodies, or even the dispersed and erratically moving bodies of an asteroid belt or oort cloud.

The distress call from the monitoring satellite was automated, which was the only reason it even got off a few seconds worth of broadcast, as a hatch opened in the ship, and a slim transsuited figure holding a massive handheld weapon discharged a stream of energy rivalling that of a much larger ship-mounted weapon, obliterating the unmanned satellite in a single shot with unnatural precision. The figure then leapt from the ship and began flying towards the research facility, followed by more suited figures…

<<I sense distress. The facility is under attack.>> Tellus stated suddenly, his black eyes opening suddenly and the dozen or so colored nodules on his dorsal surface flaring a concerned purple, tinged with just a hint of angry red as he started into motion, moving towards the airlock with a swimming motion through the air.

“Suits on.” Jan said matter of factly before cycling the airlock ahead of Tellus, and the Legionnaires flew into action, with Tinya skipping the wait for the airlock and simply phasing through the hull into the vacuum of space, and drifting down to the asteroid. Silently, they advance across the surface to the entry port, on the other side, hoping not to be too late...

The entry port, which they’d expected to have been blasted open, shows no sign of being invaded, the intruders having somehow overridden security, or perhaps mentally influenced the defenders at the door, to gain entry. Sun Boy offers to burn through the controls, but Element Lad just holds up a hand to stay him, “Phantom Girl has this.”

Tellus affirms that he senses no conscious minds behind the door, and Tinya phases through the door, to open it from the inside. On the other side, a pair of SP officers are entrapped in thick sheets of ice, leaving only their heads exposed, and she opens the door before reaching through the ice to grab hold of first one officer, and then the other, phasing them and pulling them free from their icy restraints. As the other Legionnaires cycle through the airlock, Polar Boy’s eyes widen at the sight of the man-shaped pillars of ice, and the unconscious SP officers. “Nothing worse than a dirty Tharran,” he mutters sourly.

Jan gestures, but there is no visible sign of any sort of sort of transmutation has taken place. “Some sort of nano-machinery, I could sense the presence of metallic elements on the walls and in the air, which I’ve turned into nitrogen. Assume that our invaders know that we’ve arrived…” he explains before moving forward. Behind him, Dirk has begun radiating focused warmth into the cores of the hypothermic SP officers, carefully bringing them back to health, while Brek uses one of their own medical kits to provide more mundane medical help. Brin is standing at the door forward, eager to advance, but waiting on Jan to give him the word. Dirk looks up, recognizing that this could take more time than they can afford, but unable to rush the process of warming the officers. “Go, Brek and I will make sure these two are alright, you go ahead and make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else.” With that, Jan nods to Brin, and the Zuunian growls approval as he stabs the door controls, cycling them into the next room. Seeing what he doing, one of the half-frozen guards attempts to mutter a warning, but is too late…

What comes next feels like the floor had fallen away beneath their feet, but in all directions simultaneously, as if they are falling in every direction, and being stretched in the process. Each Legionnaire can dimly perceive their teammates flying past and through and away, and the only coherent sound is Gates’ voice, speaking as if right next to each Legionnaire, saying, “Ah, it’s right over here. Follow me.”

No one else has the capacity to even respond in this timeless shuddering moment of utter confusion, let alone point out that they can’t control their movement in this strange falling place, before the disorientation ends abruptly, with a sharp crack, leaving each of them feeling like an elastic band that has just snapped back into shape, skin rubbery and insides trembling.

All too suddenly, each Legionnaire discovers that they have been separated, but are not alone...

Jan blinks as the spatial transition fades and the world seems to coalesce back into being around him. His surroundings are dark, but he can sense the same elements as before, for the most part, oxy/nitrogen atmosphere, ferrous and silicate elements in the rocky walls of the chamber, and a large mass of inertron and more complex alloys and compounds bearing down on him…

Reflexively he transforms the nitrogen in the air between himself and the attacker to iron, the most durable metal within a reasonable ‘distance’ on the atomic table, and therefore the quickest change he can manage, while he uses his Flight Ring to jet to the side. A loud CLANG! in the darkness tells him that he has bought himself a second, and he quickly transmutes a small quantity of a nearby wall into phosphorus, lighting up the chamber, and his attacker, in a harsh white light. Where he had been standing, the enormous inertron limbs of the centuries-old cyborg named Immortus smash his impromptu iron barrier aside, causing pieces to fly off with a scream of tortured metal and send shrapnel in all directions. A sharp tearing sensation and a sudden burning causes him to grit his teeth as one of the jagged metal shards slashes across his upper leg, and he continues moving erratically in the confined space of the cavern, while Immortus gloats in a loudspeaker voice.

“Foolish Legionnaire, you are but flesh and blood, and my form is as immortal as my hate! Whatever you create, I will just use to destroy you!” The cyborgs tears off a long jagged strip of iron from Jan’s wall of iron, waving it like a crude oversized sword as if to make his point.

Inertron is not a singular element, so it takes Element Lad a few seconds to transform the thick inertron armor plates into lesser compounds, changing one element at a time into nitrogen, until what remains crumbles under the strength of the exoskeleton beneath it, and Immortus stumbles to the ground, unbalanced by the sudden change in weight and balance, as his bulky form is now a slender skeletal framework, surrounding the life-support canister that contains what small fraction of his human flesh remains. His formerly booming mechanical voice has taken on a tinny quality of desperation.

“You can’t do this! I am forever!”

Another brief moment’s concentration and the nitrogen in the air around the ranting skeletal cyborg transforms into foamed titanium, easily strong enough to keep him restrained, and the chamber is blissfully silent, giving Jan a momentary peace.

“You’ve sacrificed everything worth living for to never die. No amount of inertron will protect you from the inevitability of change, or from your own fear. I can’t even muster pity for you.” Jan says quietly to the imprisoned cyborg, aware that Immortus cannot hear him.

Brin is barely even disoriented by the sudden transition, his superior balance and reflexes allowing him to adjust to his new surroundings in far less time than would many others. The room is brightly lit by a vast glowing humanoid figure, bloated like a tick by the stolen solar energy he’s absorbed.

“Sun Killer.” Brin says, alerting the oblivious villain to his presence, and then mentally kicking himself for not just taking him out without giving him a chance for a ‘fair fight.’ The villain whirls around and launches a blast of fire in his direction which the Zuunian acrobat avoids with a quick sideways cartwheel that ends with a launch directly at the swollen villain. Before he even reaches his target, he feels the waves of heat rolling off of the villain, and he uses his Flight Ring to jerk himself to the side, aborting his planned attack, recognizing that Sun Killers skin is hot enough that that rock beneath his feet is glowing the sullen red of magma…

Sun Killer laughs, and launches another lazy stream of fire in Brin’s direction, tracking Brin’s movements as he attempts to stay ahead of the rush of fire, moving erratically, and as fast as his Flight Ring can safely move him in this confined space.

“You can’t touch me. And I don’t even have to hit you to beat you…” Sun Killer gloats, and Timber Wolf recognizes that the air in the chamber is growing increasingly hot, and that it will eventually overwhelm him even if he manages to avoid these attacks. Desperate for something, he strikes the rocky ground with both feet as part of his next flip, shattering the stone and giving himself some weapons, one of which he manages to snatch up before he’s dodging that stream of fire again.

Sun Killer is clearly not impressed, “Oh, he has a rock. Which will melt before it reaches me. So scary…” Still in mid-flip, Brin whips the stone at the soft target of Sun Killer’s gut with superhuman force, and even as the stone indeed melts, it still retains its mass and strikes Sun Killer so hard that he staggers back, clutching his belly, with a cry of pain. Timber Wolf seizes the moment to snatch up another stone and crumble it to gravel in his hand, hurling it like buckshot in a spray that catches Sun Killer across his chest, head and upflung arms, with sharp cracking sounds. Sun Killer cries out once again, and falls, bloody and bruised. Brin seizes advantage of this momentary respite to strike the wall behind him with a thunderous blow, and snatch falling stones as fast as they fly free to hurl at the reeling Sun Killer. If Sun Killer is a walking sun, Brin’s barrage resembles a storm of meteors, and the larger man staggers back, before finally collapsing, unable to withstand the punishing blows of the stones, which, even half-melted by his corona, strike with brutal force. Finally, fallen to one knee and with arms up to shield his head, with a last desperate cry of pain, he croaks “No more! I yield!” and Brin holds a rock ready as the villain’s fiery aura fades. The intense heat remains in this chamber, with no sign of abating, but Sun Killer collapses unconscious from the pain and shock of a forearm that Brin can see has clearly been broken by one of the projectiles, and Brin sighs in relief, wondering how long he himself can remain conscious in this heat.

The fire’s out, but I’m still in the frying pan... he thinks sourly.

This is great fun Set, from Brainy having the lawyers ready for bogus Rimborian claims through to Brin's predicament. I'm taking a quick break at work and reading and replying on my phone so this'll have to be a short review., Sorry.

Looking forward to seeing where the other Legionnaire's ended up and what or who Sun Boy and I assume Gates will be left to deal with at the Armoury.

More, more, more!

Tinya phases reflexively and is spared the worst of the wrenching transition. The chamber she reappears in is similarly constructed of rough stone walls, and the gravity remains the same, so she’s sure that she’s still in the same asteroid. She is facing a wall, covered with colorful glyphs, and in front of it, the Sklaran knife-expert named Akka has turned to watch her appear with a measuring look.

A knife flips through the air, and passes directly through Tinya’s head faster than she can even react, and the sound of it clanking violently off of the wall behind her shocks an unladylike curse from her. River of souls, she’s *fast!* Tinya thinks, as she sees Akka slowly drawing another blade from the assortment tucked in her belt, thigh holsters, ankle sheaths, small of her back, upper back beneath her hair, and arms…

“Intangible. Smart to remain in that state, Bgtzln, during the transition.” Akka says conversationally.

“So glad you approve…” Tinya replies snarkily, but is interrupted as Akka twists somehow in mid-stride and is flipping through the air in a move that Timber Wolf would admire for its speed and directness. More out of instinct from years of close-quarter combat training, Tinya flinches to the side, and the dull-looking blade opens up a blazing gash on her upper arm, feeling like it has cut halfway to the bone. She flings herself up into the stony ceiling of the chamber, and leaves most of her body phased into the rock, using it for cover, while clutching her cut arm tightly, attempting to slow the flow of blood.

Akka cranes her head back and gloats at Tinya, whose face is protruding from the ceiling above her, apparently disinclined to throw her special dagger, slouching casually against the wall, slowly passing her free hand through the bloodied blade of her weapon, as if it were no more tangible than a candles’ flame. “This one’s Bgtzln steel. Hard to get on the black market, but hardly impossible, and when you’ve been warned that you’ll facing a Bgtzln in the coming days…” the Sklaran says conversationally, “Obsidian scalpels for the Braalian, non-conductive blades for the lightning twins, I even have a little bitty knife for the Imskian.” She adds with a grin, more like a predators’ toothy threat display than anything containing human warmth or humor.

Tinya feels a rush of dizziness, and wonders if the blade was poisoned… It doesn’t even have to be. I could pass out from blood loss alone, and if I’m halfway through a rock wall when that happens… Tinya thinks, cutting through the mocking words and the burning pain of her injury, recognizing them as obstacles and trying to ‘phase’ past them the way she would material objects in her way. All she has to do is stall, and let shock and blood loss win this fight for her.

She forces a steady tone and is pleased to see that Akka’s brow furrow at her apparent focus. “So, you cut me. Good for you. But we both got teleported into this chamber, and it doesn’t look like you’ve had any luck deciphering those glyphs or opening that door, while I can leave any time I want.”

With that, Tinya launches herself forward, as fast as her Flight Ring can manage, which is considerable in the light gravity of this asteroid, and she feints towards Akka’s knife-holding hand, then veering with a twist towards the other side of the villain, so that she will be forced to first over-extend in one direction, then correct to reach across herself. Spinning in mid-flight she avoids the deadly Bgtzln blade by scant centimeters, and recognizes that the lowered gravity worked to her advantage, causing Akka to overcompensate and nearly throw herself off-balance. For the first time, she’s grateful for all the times Shady kicked her ass in hand to hand combat training, which she’d only agreed to do to humor her friend, as it helps her to anticipate and avoid these blows. Now with her back to the wall, she sinks into it as Akka recovers blindingly fast and lunges at her, just as Tinya hoped…

The blade of Bgtzln steel sinks up to the non-Bgtzln hilt into the door, and Tinya’s luck holds as it interposes a power conduit and sends a jolt of energy lashing forward to throw Akka violently away from the wall, the blade falling from her nerveless fingers. Tinya dashes forward and stomps the Bgtzln blade into the floor of the chamber, phasing it as she does, so that no one unable to phase will ever be able to retrieve it from its stony prison.

Her hand remains clamped over her bleeding arm, and she’s afraid to move it, lest the bleeding accelerate, so she turns and ghosts through the wall, leaving the unconscious Sklaran in this sealed chamber, her own stony prison.

Thanks for the kind words!

The Brin vs. Sun-Killer fight was my angry reaction years ago to Brin getting in a fight with Sun Emperor that involved claws and regeneration and him jumping in and trying to go hand-to-hand with someone who was radiating heat hot enough to melt metal. Ugh. I wanted to show what someone whose powers were super-strength and acrobatics could do in such a situation, instead of 'Wolverine.'

Other fights, like Jan vs. Immortus, and Tinya vs. Akka, were just me having fun. In case it's not obvious, each of the arriving LSV members got teleported to a separate chamber, and each of the arriving Legionnaires have also been teleported, which is entirely a convenient contrivance for the writer to have one-on-one fights, and not a wild melee.

I also picked the newest LSV villains (Questor, Akka, Sun-Killer, etc.), just to explore some new characters.

Tellus pulls himself from the clashing currents of disrupted concepts of linear space. Violated spacetime seems to slough from his flanks as he ascends into this chamber from the below-spaces between where-he-was-before and where-he-is-now, and he can sense a single figure, her mind alerted to his arrival, turning to face him. He has never met the woman, but recognizes her as a recent addition to the Taurus Gang, calling herself Alchemical Girl, thought to have been depowered in her first encounter with the new Academy student, Glorith.

Even before she gestures, he can sense in her mind that she is no longer depowered, and is attempting some hostile action against him, her poise strong and her will confident. He can feel a slight tingle in his body, and is concerned that she may attempt to set his body aflame, the easiest trick by far that a metahuman catalyst of chemical reactions such as herself could accomplish. He considers telekinetically hurling her into the wall behind her, alit with alien script, but cannot guarantee that such a blow would render her unconscious without causing her greater harm, and so instead turns to his telepathic gifts, trying to find the triggers in her mind that will cause her to drift into slumber…

He can feel her confidence waver as she sags, leaning back against the wall, one arm still upraised. She ceases whatever assault she is attempting on his biochemistry, and attempts to affect the flow of serotonin within herself, but this black-eyed fish is in her mind, and she feels as if she is underwater, flailing in every direction for anything to grab onto, unable to remember the word ‘serotonin,’ or how exactly to save herself with her power, a child alone and drowning. Trapped in her own mind, unable to find solid ground or air to draw breath, she feels herself sink into the warm comforting waters and lose consciousness.

Tellus watches dispassionately as the young woman’s body slumps gently to the floor in the asteroid’s light gravity. In her mind he can sense that she was attempting to shut down his body’s ability to process oxygen, so that he would suffocate, unaware that, as a Hyrkraian, he extracted energy from methane instead, and that oxygen was a toxic byproduct to him, not a life-giving necessity. If anything, he felt a bit refreshed by her failed attempt to kill him. Still, he recognizes that if this young woman had figured out his physiology before he figured out her psychology, he’s be the one at her mercy right now, and he could sense that the concept of mercy was as alien and toxic to her as oxygen was to him...

Sun Boy felt his body shudder as the world spins back into place, yanking him away from the two SP officers he had been treating for hypothermia, and dropping him into a darkened chamber.

“Woo, fun ride. Haven’t felt anything like *that* for at least eighteen hours…” He quips to the presence he can sense before him, swimming into view as his tunnel vision cleared.

The slim figure was standing before a closed door lit with dimly glowing symbols of some sort, in this otherwise darkened chamber, and Dirk heard an automatic update from his transsuit as it beeped. <Shutting down for reboot, estimated update time, 45 minutes.>

Well, that’s not a coincidence. he thinks as a heady musk fills his nostrils, and he attempts to exert his power before it’s too late…

“Hey there, handsome! The gods must love me to send *you* to save me from this dreary solitude.” comes a high-pitched squeaky voice that he initially finds grating and affected, only to flow into something delightfully quirky as the figure of the villainess Fume resolves before him. As he recovers from his initial disorientation, Dirk is intellectually aware that he’s already gotten a snootful of her mood-affecting pheromones, and that his body’s reactions are as much artifice as genuine, but he’s having trouble caring at this point. She’s fiddling with some gadget at her belt, but he finds his eyes drifting down her long legs, and back up, measuringly.

“Hey yourself, beautiful. We really have to stop meeting like this, people will talk.” He flirts back, dropping any hint of a guarded posture and relaxing into this very different battlefield, one in which he’s far more confident.

“Let them talk.” Fume laughs, playing along and buying time for her powerful pheromones to more thoroughly saturate his system, and turn him into another one of her playthings. Not that she had any doubt that *this* Legionnaire would prove a hard sell… She pats the small device at her belt, “I hope you don’t mind that I overrode your transsuit for a factory reset. I just didn’t want anything to come between us…” she says with a smirk, as she runs her hand across his chest. “Ooh, you’re so hot! In every sense of the word!”

Dirk grinned at her wordplay, and then his grin faltered for a moment as he wondered why his body temperature was so elevated. It had seemed very important a moment ago, but he was having trouble remembering why he needed to run so hot?

Sensing a moment’s hesitation, Fume breathed softly into his face, and his eyes clouded with the fresh rush of musk-scented chemicals, and everything became clear…

These one-on-one fights are cool! I like how Brin dealt with Sun-Killer, and it was very annoying how he was Wolverine-lite all through the last Legion series. Tinya's fight was also fun; she and Shady don't get very involved in direct combat a lot in the comics, so I always like seeing them get their hands dirty when it happens

Someone remembered Alchemical Girl! She is too good a concept to disappear into obscurity, even if she does have an unwieldy name (says the guy who called a character Bioluminescent Lass)

Is Fume one of yours? I don't remember seeing her anywhere before, I like her!

Fume!

LSH V6 #11

Thanks, I wanted some one on one fights, to showcase individual Legionnaires, but now that I've done that, I'll have to make the next battle or two team efforts, since I don't want to repeat myself (and this is a *team* after all, not a bunch of lone wolves!). I definitely wanted to mix it up. Tellus mostly got lucky that Alchemical Girl didn't know how his metabolism worked. Timber Wolf used his brain, and his victory could still be pyrrhic, thanks to the oven-heat left even after the fight. Tinya's move was pure desperation, and she's also on borrowed time, bleeding and light-headed... Sun Boy, well, some people just don't fight fair.



Yeah, going through the villains I'd never used, new blood like Questor, Immortus, Frost, Fume, Akka and Sun Killer seemed like obvious choices, but some other new characters who had been seen in other places, like Alchemical Girl and Cryo King and Psionic Lad (who turned out to not be usable, because his 'origin' as coming from a Legion future turned out to be a lie). Alchemical Girl had a great visual, but she's not had much time to be experienced with her powers (or with Hyrkraian biochemistry, obvs), and is less dangerous right now than she could potentially be...

The super-villains totally need more ladies! And I love her look.



Klar ninja'd me on that, but yeah, she's a once-seen new member of the Legion of Super-Villains, seen alongside the Tharran Frost putting the whammy on Colossal Boy with her pheromone powers.

I just added the transsuit-rebooting gizmo (stolen from whatever company makes transsuits, and which would not work if the transsuit wearer were in vacuum or something, for safety reasons!) to explain how her power works on people with transsuits.

She might also be able to modulate her 'fumes' to be corrosive and eat through transsuits, but I didn't feel it necessary or appropriate to be upgrading her powers in this here second-ever appearance.

The Trom dilemma makes so much sense; after the tragedy, it would be off-limits but greed eventually takes over and it's considered ripe for exploitation. Like a stand-up comic said, everything's funny... eventually.

That Jan has to take some time to transmute elements depending on their distance in the periodic table or their complexity is the perfect solution to give his power some limits.

I had to think, of course, why wouldn't there be Oort Clouds everywhere?

Akka's knife collection is impressive, although I wonder how she would manipulate an Imskian-scale knife.

Telllus is a bit of a pacifist, isn't he? He'd rather disarm an opponent than disable.

Your Nura is a great character, she really shines here.

And hooray! The future is metric!

Should I apologize for "ninjaing" you? It sounds like a bad thing. I meant it quite the opposite. I love obscure villains. I love to see them used. The Legion Needs More Villains!

Oh goodness no, it's just internet slang for sneaking in and replying before the person being addressed, and it's totally cool! (Usually it's reserved for someone who replies to something while you are still typing out your response, but since you beat me by three hours, it's safe to say I wasn't typing out a response that whole time!)

And yeah, I also love the obscure villains. I was seriously considering using Organus and Prince Pharoxx (although the latter seems to be dead, but I could easily work around that, since his benefactor Hagga might have been able to restore him to life, at great cost to herself, which she might be willing to pay if she was already one foot in the grave, and maybe even secretly related to Pharoxx, and thinking of him as her lasting legacy...).

I definitely wanted to not use the standard LSV members, or Mordru, Universo, Regulus or the Fatal Five, since all of those are either over-used, IMO, or I'd just recently-ish killed off (in Regulus' case) in another fic. And then I broke my own rule by using Mekt. So much for my resolve.

And yeah, more villains would be cool, as well, in addition to more use of the obscure villains. Hence my introducing Mai Li An / the Lightning Lady, and now the Oracle in this second chapter, and perhaps someone else new in the third chapter!

I definitely think that there's a lot of potential there. It's the 30th+ century, it should be cake for them to scrape up whatever DNA traces are left on Trom and recreate the entire race via cloning up new bodies for them, and then accessing whatever data they have left to educate the new Tromnians in their own culture and history. They wouldn't be the same people they were cloned from, but it would be a sort of 'genocide do-over,' and it would be pretty easy to convince people to go along for humanitarian reasons. A new planetary population would mean one more voting bloc in the United Planets, a new presence in the Senate (and one that's kind of politically naïve and easy to manipulate, for the old pros, perhaps even one that can have a temporary overseer / governor chosen for them, while they work out their own selection process), and, the cherry on top, an entire population of transmuters, ripe for exploitation. And, one man, Jan Arrah, standing against this, with the rest of the universe wondering 'why wouldn't he want his people back?' It's all kind of sinister, and someday I might be inclined to go further into it.



Yeah, I like the idea of it being 'faster' to move something more gradually on the Periodic Table than to just try to turn Nitrogen into Uranium or whatever. Less protons, neutrons and electrons need to be added (or subtracted), so it would seem like it would be 'easier.'



That was mostly a joke, and kind of a shout out to an Iron Man snark some years back where he was showing off his 'Hulk-Buster' armor, and joked that he had a teensy suit of armor in case he ever had to fight Ant-Man. Realistically, Violet would just fly into her ear or something and unless Akka was smart enough to put some tiny killer robots in her ear or otherwise set a trap for Violet in advance, Akka would be eggs over easy with a side of vertigo.



He always seemed that way to me, more likely to come at a problem sideways, rather than use blunt force or a direct approach. I like the idea that he's more of a three-dimensional thinker, coming from a three-dimensional aquatic environment, and being both a telepath and a telekinetic, he's always got two ways to deal with most threats.



Thanks! I just love her sass. She's a treat to write!

Thanks for the feedback!

Polar Boy felt like he’d been tossed end over end, and crouched panting at his arrival point, a room lit by the blue light of a survival torch. He could have sworn he heard voices arguing as he arrived, but when he looked up, a single figure stood before him, the renegade Tharran villain, Frost, with his distinctive white fringe of hair sagging like a wilted tuft of grass.

A sudden chill indicated that the cryokinetic had already begun his assault as he growled, “Die, you race-traitor sellout!” Brek engaged his own Tharran gifts and began dispersing the heat around his foe, each racing to see who could freeze the other first, but it seemed that Frost, despite his relative inexperience at offensive use of cryokinesis, and operating off of Tharr, was far more powerful than Brek had imagined… A laugh from behind him explained the argument he’d thought he’d heard earlier as he turned to see a second Tharran shimmer into view, his distortion field only serving to keep him camouflaged as long as he remained stationary. Cryo King, white-maned and full-bearded older brother to Frost, shared his brothers’ villainous tendencies, but little else, as the two Tharran villains stalked around the Tharran Legionnaire, combining their twin assaults to overwhelm Brek.

Pressured on two fronts, Brek can feel himself dropping to dangerously low temperatures, his transsuit and the internal heating elements of his costume unable to compensate fast enough. As the brothers circle him like jackals and he spins to keep them in view, Brek sees a suited corpse slumped against one wall, withered with age, and seeing his expression, Cryo King laughs and says, “I guess the SP weren’t the first ones to find this Armory, but that guy never made it out of this room.” Frost adds, “And neither will you!”

While confident he could take either of these rogues, Brek could tell that the two of them were going to freeze him solid if he didn’t find another solution, and the glint of light off of his Flight Ring inspires new confidence as he shouts, “Long Live the Legion!” through chattering teeth and accelerates forcefully into the younger Frost, slamming him into the wall with as much speed as he can muster in this small chamber, and using the villains body to cushion his own impact. He can hear Cryo King’s cry of outrage even over the grunt of pain from Frost, and, limbs so cold that he can barely move, he once again calls upon the Flight Ring to spin himself around and accelerate his fist straight into the unrushing face of the older villain with a resounding crack. Brek can hear groaning from behind him, and once again directs the Flight Ring to send his fist back into Frost, faster than his half-frozen body could have reacted, and finally being rewarded by the sight of both of the Tharran brothers collapsing into unconsciousness.

Answering his own question from moments ago, “I guess there is something worse than a dirty Tharran. Two dirty Tharrans…” Brek mutters, as he can feel the heating elements in his suit working overtime to try and bring his body temperature back up to what he considered comfortable, thankful that his years on Earth had innured him to extremes of cold that most other Tharrans would find brutal (and most Earthers would find intolerably hot, but Earthers were weird like that)…

Space folded obediently around him, settling into comfortable patterns, much unlike unruly sapients. Sometimes Gates preferred the structure of spacetime, to the chaos of people, and their truly incomprehensible systems of governance.

The room he’d forced his way into was obviously, to his eyes, anyway, the end of this seemingly random teleportation network, and he’d skipped past all the chambers the system had attempted to route him into, right to the end. Before him, a humanoid stood, holding a weapon that seemed altogether too large for him to even support, its business end glowing with a threatening display of energy.

Questor quirked an eyebrow, “While the rest of us have to solve puzzles, however childishly simple, to reach this chamber, you just teleport to the end. I suppose that could be seen as elegant, or rude, depending on how much effort the Ancients put into these puzzles…”

The Coluan villain seemed in no hurry to fire that oversized gun, so Gates risked a glance around the room, seeing that it was filled with dozens of doorways, one of which had an open portal, and a different looking doorway behind Questor. “Do we play our roles, like puppets of the system?” Gates asked, “Do you try to kill me, and do I try to arrest you?”

Questor gave a thin smile. “I’ve almost solved all the puzzles. If Nyeun Chun Ti could break into the first Armory of the Ancients, even if he had to sacrifice a couple dozen gang-members to failed guesses, it’s only a matter of time for someone of my genius to break the code. In a few moments, every door will open, and then my teammates will pour into this room, and it will all be over. Or perhaps your teammates will have prevailed. Shall we wait together and see?”

Gates looks at the oversized gun, which he’s fairly sure just blew the SP monitoring satellite out of space with the efficiency of a ship-mounted plasma cannon, and nods, “Waiting is agreeable to me.”

[Grr. Wrote this out of order. This should have been before the rest of the Legion vs. LSV solo encounters. C'est la vie, I'll fix it in post-production. :)]

[And, properly formatted, all of the solo fights would go here...]

As one, a half dozen of the surrounding doors open, and Gates gives the little sideways scuttle that is his people’s equivalent of a smug expression (lacking horrifyingly squishy and texture-less mouthparts, like those humanoids, with their flesh hanging off of them like half-digested food). Sun Boy literally swaggers forward, while Element Lad limps into the room, leaning heavily on the wall, clearly injured. Polar Boy and Timber Wolf are both using their Flight Rings to float forward, both appearing somewhat the worse for wear, with visible burns on Timber Wolf and a wash of heat accompanying his arrival, while Polar Boy floats stiffly forward, as if paralyzed, and immediately veers towards the super-heated air rushing from Timber Wolf’s chamber, like a moth to flame. Tellus floats forward as well, but shows no sign of injury. Even in the low gravity of this asteroid, it’s the only sensible means of locomotion for the aquatic Legionnaire.

Questor looks disappointed. “Can’t *anyone* handle a single Legionnaire?” he mutters, clearly annoyed with his fellow villains.

“Don’t give up hope yet, greenie.” A woman’s voice comes from the doorway behind Sun Boy as his face goes blank and he raises hands that burst into flames. Fume moves into view and leans against the doorway in a bedroom pose, before saying, “Take them out, my pet.”

The flames around Dirk’s hands flare up, momentarily blinding everyone, and before anyone can spring into action, Fume pitches forward and slumps to the floor, while Dirk’s face clears and he smiles. “Funny thing about pheromones. They’re fragile chemical molecules that don’t handle 250 degree Celsius internal temperatures well…” He turns to place cuffs on the unconscious woman, “I got a snootful initially, sure, but a rush of attraction and arousal? Nobody’s got more experience riding that wave than me.” As he lets her gently slump back to the ground, he gestures to Brek for a medkit, “Now let’s do something about that inexplicably sudden case of heatstroke you just got…”

Questor looks at the assembled Legionnaires and at his massive gun, as Element Lad announces to the room, “That gun is force-shielded, I can’t transmute it.” The gun in question then rises slowly to point instead at the roof of the chamber, and Questor can be seen struggling to resist initially, but finally yielding, his physical strength no match for Tellus’ telekinetic might. The Hyrkraian’s calm telepathic voice washes over all of them. <<Surrender now, Questor, there is no gain to continued resistance.>>

“Agreed,” says Questor, reaching up to power down his weapon, but Timber Wolf moves forward to take the device from him. “Careful! He could bring this whole chamber down with that thing, maybe even crack this asteroid in half!”

Questor does not resist, and allows Brin to take his weapon from him, “But then *I* would die as well. Don’t be foolish.”

“There are plenty of super-villains who would risk it to kill an entire team of Legionnaires,” Brin retorts and the Coluan just scoffs. “Yes, but, just between you and me, plenty of super-villains are idiots.”

“Tinya, are you in need of assistance?” Jan asks his Ring, and moments later Phantom Girl emerges from a wall, having homed in on his Ring’s signal to locate the group. She seems unsteady, even in flight, and paler than normal, even for a phantom, clutching her bloodied arm in a death-grip. “Sorry, I got turned around. There are a lot of small chambers in this place…” Brek turns away from the unconscious Fume and practically trips over himself getting to Tinya with his medical kit.

Behind Questor, the final vault finally yields to whatever algorithm he’s entered, and a golden light floods the chamber, revealing a long hafted weapon with a tip blazing like the sun. He smiles faintly, “And so the prize is revealed.” Moments later, his smile fades. “And it’s just some sort of plasma weapon. Capable of emitting a lance of plasma as hot as a star, and certainly exciting to anyone who doesn’t already have a comparable weapon, to be sure, but nothing quite as reality-altering in potential as the Atomic Axe. What a disappointment. They’ll probably name it something predictably alliterative like the ‘Solar Spear.’” he taps a control on his wrist and a hellish red light fills the chamber as a spatial distortion that some recognize as one of Zymyr’s teleportation warps begins to open behind Questor, engulfing the newly revealed weapon behind him. Sun Boy attempts a half dozen small bursts of fire to distract the Gil’Dishpan, who remains safely behind his own warp, while Element Lad seals the newly christened ‘Solar Spear’ in a shell of titanium, and Tellus seeks out the teleporters mind, attempting to disrupt his concentration before he can whisk Questor and his prize away. It’s something of a surprise to everyone present when a flash of green energy disrupts the warp, and Questor, instead of stepping back into the safety of the warp, bumps into the wall of the chamber behind him, the warp disrupted by Gates’ own space-warping portal forming in the midst of Zymyr’s warp.

Questor looks perturbed at this turn of events. “Nothing is going as predicted today. I think I’ll have to ask for my credits back…” Peering at Gates, almost as if seeing him for the first time, and fingers twitching slightly as if he’s already anticipating dissecting the Vyrgan Legionnaire, he asks, “How did you know that would work? One spatial disruption forming inside of another one could destabilize them both, or fold spacetime inside out and kill us all…”

“I didn’t put that much thought into it,” admitted the Legion teleporter. “Just between you and me, plenty of super-heroes are also idiots.” He quipped, earning a bark of laughter from Sun Boy.

Questor just shakes his head and draws a spool of restraint tape from his belt and binds his own hands. “This has been for naught. There will be no need for fisticuffs. Being punched into unconsciousness is terribly bad for the brain, so I’ll spare you the need.”

Over the next thirty minutes, the Legionnaires tend to their injuries, and load the assembled villains, suitably restrained, aboard their cruiser, which they have summoned remotely to dock with the asteroid. Only Immortus, sealed in a massive plug of titanium, which has to be moved by Timber Wolf and Tellus, using a combination of telekinesis and brute strength, and Questor, whose Coluan brain renders him immune to the beta-wave sleep induction function of neutral restraints, remain conscious for the trip back to Earth.

The trip back was mostly uneventful.

Brek tended to Tinya, whose blood loss had left her lightheaded and overly chatty, so that she woozily regaled her nursemaid with a sad tale about how her best friend Shady is now spending all her time with Night Girl, and she’s feeling left out, which dovetails into a recounting of her last double date with Shady and Mon-El, in which Jo ate two plates of ‘pan-seared romanescu steaks with artichoke hearts,’ whatever that was, and then was gassy throughout their trip to Shakespeare in the Park, whatever that was, and Tinya was trapped between a gassy Jo, and Shady, who, shameless as ever, laughed when that happened, and whose odor-activated ‘smart deodorant’ discharged a fresh wave of ‘Talokkian jasmusk,’ whatever that was, every time it detected a fresh noxious event, while Tinya sat mortified between these twin chemical assaults, praying for some sort of Legion emergency to interrupt this ordeal... Brek smiled along and nodded sympathetically at what he thought were appropriate moments, bewildered by this tale of woe, lacking anyone else to pass his patient on to. Brin and Jan were undergoing minor regenerative treatment, for their respective injuries, while Dirk was sleeping off a chemical purge to remove any lingering traces of Fume’s pheromones, leaving the cruiser on autopilot.

Tellus had settled into the back of the cruiser, with the restrained and (mostly) slumbering villains, there being no seats for his Hyrkraian physiology in the typical seating area to the fore of the cruiser. Questor seemed content to close his eyes and engage in some sort of serene mathematical self-entertainment, which suited Tellus fine, and Immortus had finally quit raging against his confinement and begun brooding dark thoughts that seethed like a pool of corruption in the otherwise calm emotional ‘terrain’ that filled this rear cabin. Tellus could sense Gates’ approach psychically even before the clattering of his many legs against the hull entered the room with him, and could also sense that the Vyrgan sought conversation, steeling himself for this new challenge.

“Your abilities proved most effective against this Alchemical Girl,” the teleporter began before warming up to his pitch, “It’s outrageous after all this time as a Legionnaire that the humanoids still haven’t included seats in their transports modified for your body type. We should say something…”

Tellus interrupts, using his voice modulator, rather than telepathy, “Please stop. I have no interest in your pointless divisiveness. We are all Legionnaires, humanoid or not, and I enjoy the mental calm, and lack of distractions, that comes with remaining back here.”

The nodules on Tellus’ back flare an irritated red, but Gates does not know enough about Tellus to recognize this sign of anger, and he blinks in consternation, having not expected this rebuke from the normally placid Hykraian, sputtering. “But if we do not demand equal treatment and respect, nothing will change.”

Tellus explains patiently, “I did not join the Legion seeing revolution. My people were enslaved by the Gil’Dishpan, and by leaving my world behind and assuming a public role as a Legionnaire, I draw attention to my people and their plight. Through incremental steps, and not strident outrage, I encourage UP senators on good terms with the Legion to recognize not only my people, but the other worlds containing life not traditionally a part of the United Planets that is being exploited by the Gil’Dishpan. Revolutions come and go, like the tides, seeming to gain great ground, but as suddenly losing those gains as the new leadership is forced to embrace the same policies as the one they deposed. The only true change is incremental. ‘Slow and steady wins the race,’ the humans say, and this is what I seek, a change in perception and recognition that may take a generation, but will be solidly built, and last forever, unlike some short-term feel-good cause of the moment. Evolution, not revolution.”

Gates seems utterly flummoxed, “You… You are political?”

“Everyone is political.” Tellus says patiently. “The United Planets is like an ocean. You or I don’t have to like it, and it doesn’t require our approval to exist. It serves many billions of lives, who have spent many generations shaping its laws and traditions to serve them adequately, and neither you nor I have the right, let alone the ability, to take it away from them, or change it in a way that might seek to serve them less well. It is our task to adapt to these waters, and to do what we can to make them more welcoming to ourselves and our kind.”

“So you are saying that we should not burn down this house in which we must live?” says Gates, frustrated by the notion of ‘working within the system,’ but quite capable of understanding Tellus’ views.

“Exactly.” Tellus says, his nodules changing color again, to a calmer blue. “And now I wish to meditate. If you wish to explore the petitions I’ve put before the UP council, they are a matter of public record.”

The remaining hours of their return trip to Earth passed in blissful silence.

Meanwhile, while the various teams, such as Element's team at the Armory of Ancients, are off world...

Projectra dances with Val in the Mission Monitor Control Room, retracing the steps of a traditional Orandan waltz that they had danced last on their wedding night. For a man so utterly at ease in his body, who prowled into metahuman conflict with a casual predatory presence that few could match, she remembered that he had been charmingly awkward and uncertain as they moved together in the sight of their hundreds of guests, and this recollection brought a sad smile to her face, for this version of her love could no longer surprise her. Still, the warm strength of his hands on her arm and waist brought her comfort, even if they were but illusion, and his flesh and bones were long in his hero’s grave on Orando. Her love had charmed her with his ages-old eyes, and his strong young body, but most of all his enduring confidence, and the rarer moments, shared only with her, when his confidence failed him, dealing with a circumstance for which he was not trained, such as diplomacy or intrigue. Despite his common heritage, his crime-lord father had raised Val to be a leader of men, ruling through force and intimidation, and forced him to absorb decades worth of training in how to cripple and kill with his bare hands, until he could dismantle warriors of greater size and real world experience with terrifying brutality. And from these lessons, instead of the ruthless enforcer his father had sought to raise, Val had gleaned the warriors codes of respect and serenity that underlay so many of these ancient fighting traditions, something that Projectra had seen underneath the defensive swagger and seeming arrogance that he held up like a shield to any who would judge him, or, worse, underestimate him…

Her distraction is shattered and the image of Val spins away into a figment of light and shadow, dispersing with a courtier’s bow before he fades from view completely. Far from here, she has been listening to Science Police command directly, and in the confusion and hesitation that accompanies the announcement, before anyone even rushes to alert the Legion to the crisis, Projectra is already on the move, her masked guise as Sensor Girl shimmering into view over her like a cloak. She moves with false confidence, concealing the dread fluttering in the pit of her stomach, even though no one is present to see her trepidation. How we cling to our illusions, she thinks wryly, especially our illusions of control…, as she sends out a signal to serve as a backup line of defense to Duplicate Damsel at the Academy before silencing her Flight Ring to incoming calls, not willing to risk distraction in what is to come, as she rises swiftly to the roof exit.

For Ol-Vir is attacking Earth, and the rest of the Legion is at least thirty minutes away, or otherwise unavailable on missions to deal with this Oracle and the criminal enterprises they have organized. Projectra alone represents the Legion on Earth, and is the planet’s first, and perhaps, last, line of defense against a madman with the powers of Superman…

It is early evening over Metropolis, and long shadows conceal the streets from sight. Even without mystically-enhanced senses, it is not difficult to find Ol-Vir, floating above Metropolis. Science Police attack craft harried his laughing form with yet-smaller drones that buzz around him like insects, discharging stun-beams, restraint-nets, sedative darts and more lethal weaponry, all-too aware that they were incapable of harming him, and were but desperately delaying the moment that he turned his incredible destructive power towards the city below them. At that point, the only question would be how many thousands he could kill with each building he collapsed…

She can sense that the attack craft are, for the most part, unmanned, thank the Orakills for that small favor, but as they fall in broken or flaming pieces to the city below, lives have already been endangered in this deadly game of distraction, buying time for an evacuation that would prove little more than a stopgap against an unstoppable murderer who could pursue those fleeing to the ends of the earth, if not the ends of the solar system.

A smear of color cloaks her presence from view, so that she appears as just another bit of the shadow-drenched city below, as Legionnaires soar forward to defend the city. Dawnstar is first, and Projectra can feel the crack of thunder as she breaks the sound barrier, feathers slicked back and trembling with her passage. Ol-Vir can feel the rush of air exploding around him, and his clothing flutter with her passage, turning to attempt to track her passage with a burst of heat vision, as time seems to slow down to his accelerated perceptions. The winged Legionnaire’s cry is muted by the distance, and her wings combust as her skin blackens and burns. Like Icarus, wings afire, she plummets from the sky, and Ol-Vir is distracted from this glorious sight by the shout of outrage from Ultra Boy, who dashes forward with eyes burning with blue fire. Ol-Vir uses his enhanced speed to dodge under the blast, feeling the wash of heat even through his nigh-indestructible skin, and strikes with brutal strength. The visceral sensation of impact shudders up his arm as his entire forearm sinks into the Rimborian’s chest, and the sound of bones crunching accompanies the faint sigh of surprise. He treasures the look of surprise on the Legionnaires’ face as he yanks his fist back, accompanied by a warm wet spray of blood splattering against the front of his tunic. Jo Nah tumbled away like a discarded rag, and Timber Wolf is next to charge into the fray, eyes red and face twisted into animalistic fury. Ol-Vir’s vision blurs and he can feel his head rock back at the Zuunian unleashes a powerful kick to the side of his head, but another flash of heat vision, more focused this time on this easier target right in his face, reduces the Legionnaire to ashes and embers, which thump harmlessly into his body before they crumble apart and fall away, like the others before him.

“I am invincible!” Ol-Vir shouts to the smoke-filled skies, “Send them all to me! I’ll burn you all, your entire team, your entire city, your entire *world!* All will be sacrificed to my Dark Master, and the smoke from this offering will rise and summon him to reward his most faithful servant!”

He is distracted from his speech by a ruddy glow beneath him, and a vague sense of weakness. He turns enraged to see Sun Boy rising slowly from the city below, shining with a red light that he can only assume is red solar radiation, meant to sap the yellow solar energy from his cells. Too slow, he thinks, as he blows the Earth-man a mocking kiss of super-chilled air that freezes him solid. He would like to descend to see the Legionnaires’ frozen body shatter on impact with the ground, but he thinks better of it and rises suddenly into Earth orbit, so that the rays of Earth’s yellow sun shine upon his face and can rejuvenate his strength. He feels better even before reaching sunlight, which seems curious…

Projectra rushes to get back into range, Ol-Vir having risen so quickly that she could not compensate in time, and she ascends into Earth orbit as fast as her Flight Ring can carry her.

Ol-Vir looks down to his hand, to see that the blood and gore from Ultra Boy’s death, and the soot and ash from Timber Wolf’s cremation, are no more. Boiled away by vacuum? Scoured off by his rapid acceleration? That seems unlikely, but his train of thought is disrupted by a flash of light and the sensation of electricity washing over him. He turns to face the light, seeing Lightning Lass floating across from him in the void of space. He’s no longer sure if things are what they seem, and rushes the lightning-wielder, arms outspread like a primitive flying machine, reveling the sense of impact as he moves through her with irresistible strength and speed, but unsure whether or not he can trust these feelings. He turns to see the sundered halves of her body, which he has torn in two with the force of his passage, drifting away into darkness, blood already frozen into strange shapes in the cold of space.

Duplicate Damsel can see the SP craft falling like moths flown too close to a flame, and just as she’s making the decision, Bouncing Boy has already anticipated her decision and ordered their students to move into the city and do what they can to help the SP and any civilians threatened by falling debris. Projectra may have instructed them to hold back, but that does not mean they have to stand by and watch…

Nightwind says matter-of-factly, “What do we do if Sensor Girl can’t stop him?” Lu looks to her husband, his doubt written on his face, and she doesn’t have to be a telepath, after years wed to this man to hear his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud, I kind of think we die… She takes Chuck’s hand in one hand, and Nightwind’s in the other, squeezing reassuringly as she turns to address the other students lingering behind. “We fight. Like Legionnaires.”

Luornu is pleased with how confident she sounds, and is rewarded by the way his eyes crinkle when her husband smiles. “Let’s go, people!” he shouts, bounding away towards a plume of distant smoke.

In a place that is not a place, where concepts like time and distance are more suggestion than law, a bulky figure looms over a slimmer one, hunched over a monitor, watching the dance of deception between the Orandan illusionist and the mad Daxamite demigod. The larger figure crunches a handful of honey-steeped spice beetles, a treat from her homeworld, the small burst of toxin within each beetle’s reaction chamber adding a pleasant piquancy to the experience, mumbling with a numb tongue, “Why don’t you just send her a holo-signal on her Flight Ring and give away her position? He’d kill her in a second…”

The seated figure replies in a precisely modulated tone, hands folded in a reflective pose, “If I wanted to end up like Computo, a lobotomized slave fated to clean their toilets and fold their laundry, or the Time Trapper, torn to shreds at the end of time, or Nemesis Kid, ignominiously executed and left for the dogs by this very woman, then yes, I *could* kill a Legionnaire. But it certainly wouldn’t be the Queen of Orando, whose subjects can call upon mystical forces I could never predict, let alone counter, and have an appropriately medieval sense of justice. Or the Shadow Champion of Talokk VIII, for that matter. Or the future High Seer of Naltor. Or the daughter of President of the UP, who could have a strike team of Bgtzlns phase into my bedchamber. Or the son of Rene Brande, who currently enjoys a certain notoriety among Durlan youth. Or the last son of Trom, whose murder would constitute an act of genocide. Or Brainiac 5, whose envious fellow Coluans would like nothing more than to prove themselves his better by bringing his killer to justice. Indeed, there are surprisingly few Legionnaires that I would consider safe to kill, let alone wise…”

The larger figure just grunts, conceding the point and downing another handful of spice beetles. “Got it. What’s ‘ignominously’ mean?”

Her companion just grins, recognizing the question as rhetorical.

Projectra has reached low-orbit, and subtly changed the apparent position of the Earth below them, so that if Ol-Vir turns his deadly heat vision to the city, it will miss the planet entirely. But she’s aware from his suspicious movements and squinting that he’s no longer entirely unaware, so she forms an image of herself only visible to his enhanced vision, and is rewarded by him firing a blast of heat vision towards that image. She moves it just a second too late, quite deliberately, and Ol-Vir is ‘rewarded’ by the sight of ‘Sensor Girl’ suffering a nasty-looking burn to her side as she suddenly appears in a dozen places, still obviously hurt, but fully visible. He smirks and is surprised to hear his own voice aloud, “Illusionist… How?”

Projectra causes her voice to sound all around him, as if each of her visible images are speaking somehow across the vacuum of space, “You hear what I wish you to hear, child.”

Ol-Vir gloats, reveling in how Projectra can apparently hear his ranting, even here in orbit. “Bah, now that I know it’s you, your illusions are meaningless. You can’t hurt me…” To punctuate his point, he lances a half-dozen images with heat vision in a second, and Projectra allows them to disperse, as if disrupted by his attacks, replacing them with a massive image of her masked face before him, surprising enough that he recoils as it booms forth in a thunderous voice.

“CAN’T HURT YOU? THE ILLUSION OF PAIN, LITTLE MAN, IS PAIN!” With that, the image of Sensor’s face vanishes and Element Lad is floating in its place. Ol-Vir’s eyes widen even as he denies what he sees, but it doesn’t matter, the pain has already begun and he looks down to see his tunic transforming into lead. The too-familiar fire spreads through his torso, a wrenching sensation like every cell being squeezed and pouring forth liquid molten agony directly onto his nerves. With every beat of his heart, the pain spreads through his body as the lead poisoning causes his body to cramp up with such force that he can feel his bones straining under the pressure of his convulsing muscles. He can’t hear over the sound of his own screaming, which he knows he shouldn’t be able to hear at all, and his throat feels like it’s going to tear itself apart with the screams yet to come. The only respite is blissful unconsciousness, which claims him after mere seconds that feel like an eternity of damnation, as his body goes into shock.

Projectra dashes forward, passing through the image of Element Lad as it fades, aware that she might have mere seconds to react before Ol-Vir recovers from this ‘phantom pain.’ Hand shaking, she slaps a neural restraint to his temple, and then, unwilling to chance it, slaps a second restraint to the side of his face. In case the adhesive fails, she rationalizes to herself, aware that if one restraint fails to keep him in beta-induced sleep, a second one certainly won’t help. Movement behind her causes her to jerk, her nerves frayed and suddenly feeling very visible, and very vulnerable. An SP craft has approached, and she can see a familiar form hidden behind layers of ship-steel and vac-sealed suit, all as transparent to her enhanced senses as if nothing but clear sky lay between them. She can hear SP Officer Gigi Cusimano speaking, even across the void of space, and remembers to re-activate her Flight Ring’s communications features, despite having no real need of them to hear Gigi’s words. “That was amazing! He was so powerful, and you made it look easy!”

Overcompensating at her own nervousness, Projectra retreats behind an icy hauter, more suited to Queen than Legionnaire. “Power is an illusion. I am a Legionnaire, and a Queen, ruling over a proud warrior tradition. He is but a confused child. The outcome was never in doubt.”

Gigi just raises an eyebrow dubiously and mutters, “Yes, your majesty. We all have our illusions, far be it from me to deny you yours.”

Under her mask, Projectra smiles wistfully. Years before, a younger Projectra would have bridled at being addressed so casually by a 'mere commoner,' but she is older and wiser now, aware that the woman who has come to her aid is by no means 'common,' and thankful that she has made acquaintances here, friends even, who know her so well, a luxury she never knew when she was hopelessly mired in the illusions of class and station in which she'd been raised.

Giving no impression that she has heard Gigi’s muttered aside, Projectra replies, “Let’s get our ‘guest’ to more secure accommodations, shall we?”

Oh, this is wonderful.

* The Legion has always been political: it is, after all, where the leaders of worlds send their offspring for schooling, after all. Nice summary.

In 5YL, Tellus ended up with the Dark Circle, even more overtly political than in TOS.

In the Reboot and Threeboot, the Legion was even more politically motivated: sustaining the status quo in the first instance, and opposing it in the other.

* You depict Projectra as far more powerful that she is usually displayed in the comics: I think this is appropriate. Many of the Legionnaires are far more powerful than ordinarily depicted, when you carefully consider just what they can do.

And Projectra dancing in the Mission Monitor Room with the 'ghost' of Karate Kid... she is well on her way to becoming the Mad Queen we all know she is going to end up as, if she lives long enough.

* And Ultra Boy's Heroic Weakness is cruciferous vegetables! Who knew?

* I am always afraid reading other people's fanfic that i am going to steal from them. Well, I'm just warning you: I plan to use Organus (the anti-Blok) in the near future.

Thank you!



I've dragged some politics in with both Element Lad and Tellus, neither of whom are traditionally seen as political creatures, which, particularly in the case of Tellus, stemmed from an urge to stretch him out into new spaces, and sort of throw to the wind that he spends all his free time just floating there looking fishy, just because we've never really seen him doing anything in his off-time but lounging around watching other people.



I feel like her new powers as Sensor Girl have never really been clearly defined, other than that she was intended to be Supergirl, originally, so her enhanced senses seem to be roughly on-par with a Kryptonian's (as most recently seen where she's using distance vision and hearing to search for the Earth First leadership, and Earth-Man borrows her powers to do likewise, assisted by his knowledge of what they look like and in what sorts of places they are more likely to hang out). In earlier appearances, her illusions seemed to be mostly visual manifestations, and rarely suggested audible or tactile or olfactory components, but I obviously went all-senses with her here. Ol-Vir could hear the cries of pain, smell the burning, feel the crunch of impact and spatter of warm blood, and, later, also feel the worst agony he'd ever felt in his life come back for an encore performance. I did try to limit her range. With the cheeky notion that distance is an illusion, Sensor Girl could *theoretically* have unlimited range, being able to see and hear things, and create illusions over interplanetary, or even galactic ranges, but that's just too big to wrap my head around, and I even had Ol-Vir fly out of her immediate presence and her illusions fail to keep up, perhaps because of physical proximity, perhaps because she doesn't have super-speed and couldn't adjust her illusions as fast as he could move and process information...

As for her dancing with Val, and reminiscing about him, that was just my cheating way to get to write an appearance by a character who is dead, and likely going to stay that way.



Tinya, apparently!

I needed an appearance by that alien looking fractal broccoli in my far-future fanfic (kind of like how Star Trek the Next Generation kept using that spiky horned melon as their 'alien fruit' on the show).



You are welcome to do so! Organus ended up on the chopping block (along with many other things), simply because I had to prune this story down to a manageable size, and weed out anything that didn't move it forward. I had a whole arc involving the return of Prince Pharoxx from the grave, his exile from Orando and his eventual turn to underground heroics on the 'heroes badly needed here' world of Avalon.

Okay, break week is over, time to get back to work. This turkey ain't gonna write itself!

.

The brown and gray world was bleak and all-but lifeless, a stubborn sort of lichen being the ‘all-but’ that kept it from being completely lifeless, making it just the sort of place the Dark Man would choose to indoctrinate a bunch of confused orphans into bitter would-be assassins, fed on lies and a burning need for revenge on the ‘heroes’ who ‘let their world die.’ Fragments, some as large as moons, were all that remained of Dryad itself, some still glowing a sullen red with the heat of that world’s destruction, even years after the event itself, and so the Dark Man had only needed to point to the sky to remind his charges of their world’s fate.

It had been a simple matter for Lazon to disable the automated SP satellite that kept watch over this abandoned site, while Neutrax prevented it from getting a warning signal out with his neutralizing stare. Silver Slasher and Titania piloted their purloined cruiser in for a landing. Here, in the hidden base where they had gained their powers, the League of Super-Assassins would find the equipment necessary to greatly increase their powers. At least that was what Neutrax had told the others…

Attempting to make conversation, feeling like an odd man out on a team including Mon-El and Shadow Lass, an obvious couple, Night Girl,
who seemed as thick as thieves with Shady, and the second man to be called Karate Kid, the taciturn martial artist from Lythyl named Myg, Tyroc idly mentioned that their team seemed to be color coordinated, with Mon-El, Myg and himself in red, and Shadow Lass and Night Girl in black. Shadow Lass had tilted her head at that and left, returning from the rear cabin in a somewhat retro metallic gold outfit that brought a smile to Mon-El’s face, but merely left Tyroc confused as to what he’d said to prompt this, and wondering if he should change his outfit as well…

The Legion cruiser left hyperspace in the outer reaches of the Dryad system, safely beyond the range where planets, moons, asteroid belts and other celestial bodies would make leaving hyperspace dangerous, entering the system proper at sub-light velocities. Shadow Lass and Night Girl jointly piloted the ship and handled ship’s sensors, all-too aware that the fugitives they sought could have been forewarned not only of their imminent arrival, but perhaps even their exact team roster, by this mysterious Oracle. Mon-El stood behind Shady, one hand on her shoulder and gaze distant, as he used his own Daxamite vision to peer far ahead, with a level of precision that even the ships sensors could hardly match. Behind them, less familiar with the operations of the Legion cruiser, and lacking any sort of interplanetary ranged sensory abilities, Tyroc and Myg sat uneasily near the emergency escape hatch, aware that they were very likely flying straight into an ambush, and just waiting for the hammer to fall.

They reached the target planet without incident, one orbit out from where Dryad once spun, and Lydda stated for those in the back, “The SP watch-station has been destroyed.”

With a jolt, the cruiser’s lights, thrust and artificial gravity all cut out abruptly, leaving the inside lit only by the ghostly wan light of Dryad’s collapsed dying sun. Mon-El reacted with such speed that Myg found himself tumbling into Tyroc as the airlock blew and they both were ejected into space, their transsuits already active against such an eventuality. As they recovered their equilibrium, using their Flight Rings to orient themselves and stop their headlong plummet into space, Tyroc and Myg could see Shadow Lass and Night Girl exiting the tumbling cruiser behind them far more gracefully.

A brilliant red flash in front of them resolved to the form of Mon-El, blocking the energy form of Lazon, a brilliant crimson humanoid figure of cruel light, which lanced again and again at the cruiser, only to be stopped by the Daxamite’s invulnerable body. Lazon abandoned attempts to destroy the Legion cruiser, and instead targeted Legionnaires, again to be stymied time and again by Mon-El’s combination of super-speed and invulnerability. Lazon’s incredible speed may have been a match for the Daxamite’s own superhuman speed, but he had no counter for Mon-El’s far more superhuman reaction speeds and ability to anticipate where the villain was aiming to strike by the orientation of his gaze. Lit by looking arcs of brilliant crimson impacting against their Daxamite protectors’ invulnerable body, moving in short, sharp bursts of speed, the remaining Legionnaires touched down on the planetoid to confront those Assassins incapable of flight.

Tyroc’s transsuit chimed a warning, and he realized that the faint mist that had sprung up suddenly around him was corrosive, no doubt the work of Mist Master, and he was relieved that the planetoid possessed an atmosphere, however thin, capable of transmitting sound, if not at his full power. Closing his eyes and holding his breath to avoid the eye and lung scarring that would quickly result if Mist Master succeeded at melting through his transsuit, he signaled his Flight Ring to lift him back out of the acidic cloud, knowing that it would follow him like the living thing it was. He shrieked to disperse the gas around him with a powerful sonic pulse, and opened his eyes and took a quick breath of untainted air (heavily processed by his transsuit) and then set up a harmonic rhythm pulsing in resonating frequency. [i]I don’t know that you could dance to it, but it seems to be working,[/i] he observed to himself as the mist began to coil and whip around in a frenzy, each individual particle trapped in the resonance, unable to escape the beat he’d created. “Dance, puppet, dance!” he said to himself with a smile, only to sense movement in the pounding fog. A voice cried out, “Watch out!” as something gleaming and metallic shot just beneath him and Myg stumbled backwards into him. A clang accompanied Silver Slasher slamming into the ground, as he realized that Myg had intercepted her and sent her sailing under him, instead of, her more likely target, straight *through* him with her razor-edged metallic body…

A burning sensation in his calf was the first hint that the Silver Slasher’s foiled attack hadn’t completely missed, as she had sliced open his transsuit, and before it could self-seal, Mist Master’s acidic form had begun to seep into the shallow cut. Tyroc realized only then that he’d lost concentration on his harmonics and allowed Mist Master to regain control of his gaseous form, as Myg said curtly, “Get him back under control, I’ll keep her busy.”

Tyroc scowled, considering mentioning that if Myg had done a better job of ‘keeping her busy,’ he’d have never been hit in the first place, but he remembered that the martial artist had no super-powers, and was already doing more than his share… Instead he altered the harmonic slightly, not giving Mist Master time to adjust and set the surrounding fog back to pulsing to an eccentric beat. Mist Master’s growl of frustration only added a sweet counterpoint to the rhythm, and Tyroc floated higher, to avoid any more leaping attacks from his fellow would-be Assassin.

Again she emerged from the unnaturally pulsing fog, greenish-brown poisons streaking from her acid-etched metallic hide as she came at him like a missile, and as he began to dodge far too slowly to avoid her unexpected ability to leap five meters into the air, a red and black-clad arm reached out and smacked solidly into her calf, mirroring her own early strike on Tyroc, but more like a push than a damaging attack. She veered in mid-leap, with no ground to balance against, over-corrected and began to spin out of control, so that she missed Tyroc handily, even with her dangerous steely fingertips flailing about desperately to tag him on the way past, before falling back into the mist. A loud clang of metal striking stone suggested that her landing was as graceless as her flight and Tyroc concentrated on altering the tempo slightly, making Mist Master pulse even more drastically than before, attempting to keep the pressure on the gaseous villain, so that he never had time to adjust.

Deep within the mist, he heard Silver Slasher snarl, “Fine! I’ll kill *you* first!” and with sonar enhanced senses, could see her spring to her feet and leap at his fellow Legionnaire, who moved with minimal grace to sidestep the assault like a bullfighter. In motion, Silver Slasher was a blur, and too fast for Tyroc to get a bead on, but when she landed and twisted for another attack on Myg, a long sweep of her leg that he leapt over, Tyroc was finally able to get a clear shot at her. Closing his eyes once again, to focus purely on the sonar echo of the villainess, he unleashed a short, sharp sonic blast, stopping his harmonics for only a fraction of a second, and giving Mist Master no opportunity to refocus himself.

<<BANG!>> The sudden shockwave caused Silver Slasher to stumble, and Myg seized her moment of disorientation to use her own move against her, sweeping her leg out and causing her to fall flat on her back. <<POW!>> Again she was a sitting duck to Tyroc, and again he paused his harmonics for only the briefest instant, slamming Silver Slasher back into the ground with another sonic shockwave as she attempted to rise. She looked up to see Myg’s booted heel coming down on her head as he squatted into an axe-kick, and a final clang of metal on stone signaled the end of the battle, for her, as she faded into unconsciousness.

Tyroc turned his focus to the harmonic hum, elevating it to an unpleasant screech and causing the trembling droplets of fog suspended beneath him to oscillate at ever more frenetic frequencies, vibrating themselves into ever finer quanta of mist, until they were barely visible, holding that note for a long moment until letting the effect end. The fog dropped to the ground and slithered like an explosion in reverse to a single point, forming into the figure of a groaning man, on his knees and disoriented by the stresses placed upon his gaseous form. Before Mist Master could stagger to his feet, Myg had crossed to him and backhanded him with a closed fist, sending him right back to the ground, joining his fellow Assassin in unconsciousness.

Tyroc descended to finally set foot on the rocky surface of the planetoid, and Myg looked up as he did so, brow furrowing. “You are sweating,” he said simply and Tyroc replied defensively, “I was just in a fight…” before Myg shook his head and reached for the medkit at Tyroc’s belt. While digging through it he gestured with one thumb at the unconscious Mist Master, “That one likes to turn into nerve toxin, and your transsuit was pierced. Take a shot of universal antidote, just in case.”

Tyroc was about to dispute his teammates uninformed diagnosis, but recognized that he felt light-headed, and unsteady on his feet, which was hardly normal, instead lifting his leg and gripping his knee so that the shot could be administered closer to the wound. “Nerve toxin? I guess it’s good that one of us read the briefing…”

Myg gave a sarcastic half-smile as he administered the shot to Tyroc’s leg, “It’s also a good thing that one of us carries a medkit…” He handed the medkit back to Tyroc and turned to the sight of combat in the distance. “Let’s go help the others.”

Author's Note: In case it's not obvious from the scenario, I'm using the new-ish version of Tyroc with the red costume and sonic / sound manipulation powers. And I'm using Myg, just because I can.

Klar & Set, thanks for the reminder about Fume - I had completely forgotten about her!

Projectra's fight with Ol-Vir was well done...I like when ridiculously powerful characters (like an unhinged Daxamite) are actually treated as being ridiculously powerful. It makes the victory mean something if you can see how difficult it actually was. Also nice to see a bad guy smart enough to know the consequences of killing a Legionnaire may not always be worth it

Thanks, that was my main goal there, to show off how ridiculously powerful Ol-Vir was (and, by comparison, Mon-El or even people with only some of their powers, like Ultra Boy or Night Girl), and to then have Projectra/Sensor pull out the big guns she never gets to show off when she's surrounded by other people.

The whole idea kind of came out of nowhere. I feel like, barring her fight with the Emerald Empress where she ends Sarya's life, Jeckie hasn't really gotten much of a chance to show off what she can do since her return as Sensor Girl, and bam, there the idea was. While I don't dislike her, she's hardly the first Legionnaire I would have consciously chosen to write a solo story for!



Yeah, the fates of those who have killed Legionnaires (Computo and Nemesis Kid, in particular) seems like quite the deterrent, to anyone who isn't completely crazy!

Anywho, one more bit to finish up this sequence, then some connective tissue, then on to wrap up this third of the story.

By comparison, the last third should go fast, as it's plot twisty, but Brainy's on the case, so twists should unravel pretty darn fast, 'cause he's pretty darn smart!

Shadow Lass has shrouded their arrival with a vast cloud of darkness, and as the darkness boils away like fog before Neutrax’s emergy-dissipating gaze, Lydda flies directly up to him through the rapidly evaporating darkness and punches him with merely human strength, which proves sufficient to crack his visor and rock his head back into the headrest of his chair. She quickly flips around behind him and puts him in a chokehold, with one arm around his throat and her other hand on his forehead, angling his head so that he can’t bring his potentially deadly neutralization field to bear on her. Even with limited strength, under the dim light of Dryad’s shrunken sun, the slender man is no match for her, and his struggles are in vain.

Lazon rages as he slams into Mon-El again, to no effect. “Red solar radiation is supposed to drain his powers,” he complains in Neutrax’s direction, unaware that Neutrax cannot speak, and is indeed gasping for aid, unheard and unheeded.

Mon-El remains focused on his task, but mutters a soft reply, “Brainy found a solution to that. It won’t work on me.” Lazon’s form shifts to green and rebounds again from the Daxamite. “And Kryptonite radiation *never* worked on me,” Mon-El adds.

Lazon, form shining with his default golden-white glow, hovers in front of Mon-El, “I was just hoping you’d remain still long enough…” A grey beam from the side flashes over Mon-El, and he visibly weakens as Neutrax manages to focus his gaze on the hovering Daxamite, before finally succumbing to Night Girl’s chokehold and slumping in his chair.

“Yes, I just beat up a dude in a mobility chair. I’m not proud of that…” Lydda mutters, having not noticed that Neutrax had managed to catch Mon-El in his last-ditch attack. Shadow Lass, who has been keeping Titania enshrouded in darkness and hovering far out of her reach turns in alarm, and both Lazon and herself realize that Mon-El is now powerless and vulnerable at the same time. Lazon’s reactions are no more superhuman than Shady’s, for all his speed, and her darkness propagates as fast as his light. He transforms into a deadly laser-pulse just as she directly affects him with a darkfield, attempting to dissipate his light-energy into her endless night. His form is shot through with tendrils of darkness, while rays of light gleam through the darkness attempting to devour him, and seconds pass before an anguished scream signals his defeat, and Shady relents. The human form of Lazon emerges from the victorious darkness like a starship’s prow from a nebula, and Mon-El moves to catch him as he falls. Even without Daxamite strength, it is no effort at all to bear Lazon’s weight, as he has shriveled like a man who has starved for weeks, and seems frail and old, some percentage of his actual physical mass having been lost with the damage to his light-form. Shadow Lass looks shocked at the damage she has wrought, but quickly conceals any sign of distress, resuming a mask of determined poise.

Almost too late Shady remembers Titania, no longer stumbling around in the dark, and she turns to see a massive boulder being launched at Lydda, who, even in this sullen half-light, lacks the strength to survive such a blow. Fortunately, the darkness at her command is no creeping fog that need cross distances at mundane speeds, but is the negation of light, traveling as fast as light itself, and the scene goes black just before the massive stone reaches Lydda, who has no time to dodge aside, but merely shoves a fist forward, meeting force with force. The explosion sends shards of stone in all direction like bullets, but even through the darkness, Shady can see that Lydda is unharmed as the Kathooni woman flashes her a quick thumbs up, being one of the few other Legionnaires who can also see clearly in Shadow Lasses darkfields.

Mon-El also orients faultlessly on Titania’s position and floats towards her, signaling for Shady to drop the darkness. She wants to shout at him for taking such a risk, but allows the darkness to disperse. Hovering before the angry red-head, Mon-El says in a quiet but confident tone, “It’s done, Titania. Your friends are all down, and you know as well as anyone that the Legion had nothing to do with the destruction of Dryad. There’s no reason to fight.”

“There’s every reason to fight, Legionnaire,” she snarls in return. “It’s all we’ve got left, after everything was taken from us.” She gestures wildly at the sky, where the burning embers of her home world smolder fitfully. “Even if all we had was a lie, the dream of revenge kept us alive, and now you’ve taken that from us, too.”

“You need purpose? What about all those other Dryadan refugees scattered around the sector, building new lives for themselves? Wouldn’t it be a better use of your power to help them with their daily struggles, to keep anyone from exploiting them, to help them carve a home on raw untamed worlds where your strength could move mountains and divert rivers?” Mon-El reasons in return.

Shadow Lass and Night Girl keep quiet, not wanting to say anything that might disrupt this fragile moment. Tyroc and the second Karate Kid also arrive, but at a hand gesture from Lydda remain at a respectful distance, letting this play out.

Titania looks to her fallen comrades before speaking, and then points to Neutrax, “He told the others that we were coming here to find the equipment that the Dark Man used to empower us, to make us even stronger. But that was a lie. We were going to use the machines to strip us of these powers, which ruined our lives, and were turning Ki-Lan and Yer into monsters…” she says, gesturing in the direction of Silver Slasher and Mist Master, slumped in the distance.

Mon-El is surprised by this admission, and then shakes his head, visibly saddened, “Don’t you think they would have taken your powers away at Takron-Galtos, if it was that easy? Tharok’s clone lied about many things, not just the destruction of Dryad. He was no more the source of your powers than he was the source of Blok’s.” Titania scowls at this reminder of her former teammate, who had ‘betrayed’ the Assassins to join the Legion. “You are meta-humans, selected from the thousands of Dryadan refugees because you had an active meta-gene, not because the ‘Dark Man’ gave you anything. Your powers are as much a part of you as…” the Daxamite fumbles for a second as he realizes that he is the only Legionnaire present with racial super-powers, “as mine are a part of me.”

Titania’s fists clench as she exhales slowly, and Mon-El realizes with a heavy heart that this is not a fight that can be talked away. “And there it is, another lie, another hope snatched away. I told you the fight was all I had left, Legionnaire…” Titania says, slamming a boot down into the ground with such force that a shockwave of dust arises around her, blowing him back.

<<Get clear, my love!>> warns Shadow Lass over their telepathic earplugs, unsure that she could be heard over the sound of the shockwave that has thrown those standing into the air like game pins. The dust clears and Titania is kneeling, clutching her head and groaning. Tyroc floats into view, concentrating on some sonic manipulation, and over the same telepathic connection informs his teammates, <<Sonar-induced vertigo. It won’t last…>> Myg moves in with a blur of motion and strikes her with a knife-hand to the neck, recoiling with a cry of pain. “Val Armor makes using that nerve strike against an invulnerable target look easy…”

Shady and Lydda converge on his heels and Lydda slaps a neural restraint on the last conscious Assassin, sending her into induced beta-wave slumber, before turning to her former student, “And you are no Val Armor, not yet…” Myg just nods, rubbing his hand, “That much is clear.”

Shady, a second behind Lydda, eases Titania to the ground, and glances to the other unconscious Assassins before muttering, “Never a cop around when you need one,” finally looking up her Daxamite lover with a disapproving glare, “You could have been killed!”

He just shrugs, with an unconcerned look, “Are you saying that I can’t last five seconds being as vulnerable as you are every day of your life?”

“Not if you’re being foolish,” she retorts, blithely ignoring any attempt on his part to turn things around. “Although if you want to spar with me under power restraints, and learn to fight without your powers…” she begins, with a measuring look, already knowing the answer, as Mon-El gives her a half-smile and throws his hands up in defeat.

The Assassins were easy enough to load onto the cruiser, and Myg and Tyroc have gravitated back to the rear compartment, with the unconscious villains.

“So, our first missions together as Legionnaires, what with my recent return, and your recent admission,” begins Tyroc, attempting to spur some sort of conversation. Myg grunts a non-commital sound that does little more than indicate that he has heard. Tyroc makes a face and plunges forward, “I heard that you were hard to work with.” Myg laughs once, but does not reply, turning to look at Tyroc with a raised eyebrow, as if encouraging him to continue. “And I heard you were dead…”

Myg just rolls his eyes and sits up, “The Time Trapper was summoning people out of different timelines to tear down the Legion, including an evil version of Superboy, and yes, an old white man who spelled his name differently than I did, and talked space about the Legion. I’m not white, or old, or dead, so obviously he wasn’t me. For one thing, when I die, it won’t be fighting some loser named Radiation Roy whose super-power is *paralyzing rays,*” he adds with a snappish tone. “As for ‘hard to work with,’ I’ve read the same about you…”

Tyroc grins and nods at this not-unfair comment. “I was. As sole peacekeeper and lawman on Marzal, I was used to making the rules, and for everything to go like clockwork, maintaining order in a mostly post-crime society. Out here in the wider world, there were a hundred competing cultures and languages and traditions, and it was making me crazy what people could and couldn’t do. I just wanted to go home, where I was the one in charge, and everybody followed the same laws and customs.” He shakes his head, “I was the ultimate whiny ex-patriate, so sure that my way of doing things ‘back in the old country’ was the best way, and that everything was being done wrong here, too permissive, too forgiving.”

Myg shakes his head in agreement, “I felt the same way. Growing up on Lythyl, I had to fight for everything, starting with my freedom. Out here, everybody seems to just be handed things. They don’t have to fight for their food, or shelter, or respect. It’s just given to them, and, to my mind, they seemed not to have earned any of it. I saw Earthers in particular as soft and demanding and spoiled, not willing to recognize that they had fought for this, for thousands of years. Maybe not individually, but their parents and ancestors had fought to make this world better for them, so that they wouldn’t have to struggle for basic survival. Night Girl, and the other teachers at the Academy had to beat it into my head sometimes, but we wouldn’t have transsuits and cruisers and hyperspace if every single person was spending every day just fighting for their daily food, and shelter for the night, and respect.” He stretches his sore hand again as he speaks, going through the motions of the knife-hand he had attempted on Titania.

“You could get something for that hand…” Tyroc says, reaching for a medkit before Myg waves him off.

“It will heal on its own quickly enough, and the pain is another lesson.” Myg says, smiling. “This isn’t a tough guy thing,” he adds, moving once again through the knife-hand strike, “By feeling exactly where it hurts, I can tell *exactly* what I did wrong.”

Tyroc nods, understanding and approving. “Is that the hand?” he asks, knowing that he’s poking at what could be a sore spot.

Myg just laughs, “Yes, that is indeed ‘the hand.’” He can tell that Tyroc is dying to hear it, so he leans forward, “I was still in the Academy, having just chosen the name Karate Kid, after the first martial artist from Lythyl who became a Legionnaire, the son of the infamous Black Dragon himself, when Projectra showed up to ask what right I thought I had taking her husband’s code-name.” He smiles, ruefully, remembering the moment clearly, “I was young and full of myself…” he pauses, “Well, younger and even more full of myself, and I pushed her hand away. She did not take well to my ‘laying hands on her,’ and before my eyes, my hand withered up like the hand of a mummy who’d been dead for a thousand years.” He flexes his hand as if still not entirely trusting it. “I couldn’t feel anything. Just a moment of pain, and then it looked, felt, even *smelled* like a dead thing hanging off the end of my arm.”

“How long?” Tyroc asks.

“Three days. I heard some whispers that other Legionnaires had talked to her, but she wouldn’t relent. Not until I publically apologized, and then ‘whoosh,’ all flush with blood and good as new, with a pins and needles sensation like it had fallen asleep.”

“Remind me never to piss her off…” Tyroc said, and the two of them shared a grin.

And up to the big finale of this chapter, the confrontation with the Oracle!

Which I haven't written quite yet, but yeah, I'll get right on that.

Random thoughts I probably should have mentioned earlier, although some I wanted to save as surprises;

Brainiac 5 is currently leader of the Legion. Element Lad is deputy leader. Dream Girl just acts like she's in charge. Qu'elle surprise.

This version of the team includes classic members;
Cosmic Boy, Phantom Girl, Lightning Lass, Chameleon Boy, Colossal Boy, Brainiac 5, Shrinking Violet, Timber Wolf, Mon-El, Ultra Boy, Shadow Lass, Element Lad, Dream Girl, Star Boy, Tyroc, Wildfire, Dawnstar, Invisible Kid 2 and
eighties recruits Sensor Girl, Tellus, Quislet and Polar Boy, and
newer blood, Night Girl, Chameleon Girl and Karate Kid 2/Myg, as well as dimensional refugee, Gates.

Lightning Lad and Saturn Girl are on reserve, but would show up, for instance, to kick Mekt's ass if he ambushed Garth or something whacky like that. Bouncing Boy and Duplicate Girl are teaching at the Academy. Mysa and Blok are on the Sorcerer's World.

Infectious Lass is also a member of this Legion, but she's been on Daxam, working with other Somahturans to reseed Daxam's micro-biology, and not been available for mission work, and she brings the active membership to 25, which feels 'Legion-y' enough for me.

Tyroc, Gates, Myg and Infectious Lass were intended as surprises, and so mostly didn't get mentioned until I was using them.

It isn't any specific animus against Dragonwing, Chemical Kid, Glorith, Comet Queen or Harmonia Li that have kept them out of this story, but there were already too many plates to keep spinning, and if I was going to add even more, I'd be inclined to consider people like Nightwind, Power Boy, Lamprey, Gravity Kid, Variable Lad, etc. and the madness would never end. (The team is still a bit dude-heavy, with fifteen ish guys and ten ish ladies, but I didn't want to add five more ladies, or cut five guys to artificially balance that out.)

I just wrote that role call off the top of my head, so I'm *sure* I've forgotten someone...

And back to the story...

“I see with crystal vision,
Some visions I keep to myself.”

.

In a darkened chamber, a bulky cyborg looks up and announces to her companion, “The Coluan has found Delphi. But he still doesn’t know that we can hear everything they say… Shall I warn our Oracle?”

The slimmer figure who had been napping in the seat next her stirs, “No. Either he’s foreseen it already, or he hasn’t. Either way, he’s no longer of use to me. Prepare everything important, we’ll be leaving within the day.”

The cyborg turns to obey, ceramic-reinforced limbs moving heavily across the stone floor, but still questions, “If they don’t know, how can you be sure we’ll have to leave?”

Her companion stretches, wondering if there will ever come a day when she can sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and does not have so many things to keep track of, “Just because we can’t figure out how he’ll know, doesn’t mean that he won’t. Coluan brains are slippery. Best to plan for him to have figured it out, even if he’s given us no evidence that he has.”

“Greenskins. Almost as smart as they think they are,” Gladiatrix grouses, “I suppose you’re right. You always are…”

“I wish,” her companion mutters, having already resumed monitoring her datafeeds.

.

The Cruiser was in-flight before Brainy briefed his team that they were going to assault the Oracle directly, headed for a sparsely occupied region of space roughly at the center of UP space, and surprisingly close to Earth. Other cruisers departed at the same time, heading to different destinations, to deal with arising threats, and only Projectra remained to watch over Earth while the mission teams (and disparate single Legionnaires and duos) deal with the sudden upsurge in threats across UP space, as if the Oracle had foreseen an opportunity to strike in many places all at once, and advised his ‘customers’ that now was the time, splitting the Legion’s forces up across the vast territory under UP jurisdiction.

Brainiac 5 refused to be outplayed in this crude manner, and took calculated risks, shorting several of his mission teams by a member here, or a member there, and dispersing the rest of the Espionage Squad to assist with threats that the SP might not be able to handle alone, leaving Earth in the hands of a single Legionnaire (and the Academy, of course), and even bringing in external assistance…

For his team, Brainiac 5 had selected Lightning Lass and Colossal Boy, heavy-hitters itching for some payback from their ambush at the hands of the Interplanetary League, Dream Girl, who wouldn’t be sidelined from a mission to deal with someone suspected of being a rogue Naltorian, Cosmic Boy, who, of them all, was the most level-headed and able to serve as backup leader, Ultra Boy, always useful in a fight, Quislet, whom Brainy had initially found fascinating, and more recently come to find best in small doses, and Infectious Lass, who had just returned from extended duty to Daxam, where she had been helping to reseed the micro-organisms that lay at the base of that world’s ecosystem, still ravaged from their extinction at the hands of the Darkseid-influenced Daxamites (a project expected to take many more years to see fruition). He anticipated no need for subtlety…

As Phantom Girl was unavailable, away on a mission involving an Armory of the Ancients, and some members of the Legion of Super-Villains, Brainy had also called upon an unexpected resource, claiming that a Bgtzln would prove necessary.

And so it was that Solon Darga, the ‘Super-Reject’ known for a hot second as Phantom Lad, lay strapped into a machine of Brainiac 5’s devising, looking somewhat uncomfortable at the Legionnaires around him, as if still feeling a bit guilty about his fifteen minute career as a super-villain. “Are you sure this is going to work, sir? I’d hate to mess this up…” he said quietly to the Coluan inventor, who was fiddling with a conduit, making (unnecessary) last minute adjustments. “I have complete faith in you, Mr. Dagra. Just phase when I tell you to, and then begin to ‘unphase,’ and the machine will do all the rest. You’ll feel a strain, but no physical pain.”

“We have reached the coordinates,” Cosmic Boy calls from the command bridge, and Brainiac 5 takes command of the ship from the rear station and orients it precisely, before giving Phantom Lad the go-ahead. The young man’s body grows pale and translucent, and the lights dim in the Cruiser as the machine draws power from the resting engines. As he attempts to re-solidify, he flickers growing momentarily paler and then more solid, and his face shows the signs of exertion, although he makes no complaint, unwilling to show weakness in front of these heroes he’s so embarrassed himself in front of before.

A pale cone of energy emits from the front of the cruiser, and as it falls upon the seemingly empty space ahead of them, a pale ghostly outline of a space station appears, shimmering at first and then shuddering into full view, as the machine has greatly amplified the Bgtzln’s powers to bring the entire station out of phase. Solon shudders and turns fully solid as the machine sparks and dies. Brainy turns and shuts down power to the machine completely, before releasing the energy restraints that had held Solon in place. “My machine has shorted out their machine, that was keeping this Oracle’s hidden base in Bgtzln phase. Expect to find one or more Bgtzlns in the station, but they might not be in any shape for a fight.”

“That’s for sure,” mutters Solon, “I feel like I just tried to lift a car…”

Cosmic Boy is already at the airlock, “Suits on. Solon, you’re staying with the ship. Keep her safe.”

As the Legionnaires disembark the cruiser, Cosmic Boy opens a private channel to Brainiac 5, “Is that why you didn’t bring Tinya on this mission? You knew that whoever powered the machine would be powerless anyway afterwards?” Brainy replies curtly, “Exactly. No reason to short our own resources.”


.

Phantom Lad!

I always wanted to see him again, and Brainy's reason for using him is classic Dox manipulation...it's pretty cool seeing Myg in action too, I thought it was a big waste of potential how he was killed off in LO3W so unceremoniously. The story about his hand definitely sounds like something a pissed off Jeckie would do

And the League of Super-Assassins are always fun to see again...looking forward to seeing how this all comes together at the end Set!

He just came out of the blue. Of the original 'super-rejects,' unlike Calorie Queen or Magno Lad, I don't recall ever seeing him again, which suggests that his rehabilitation stuck and he slunk home in disgrace, so when I realized that I needed Phantom Girl for the big finale to this chapter, and that I'd forgotten and used her in the fight against the LSV (vs. Akka), I had to dig around and look for another Bgtzln in a hurry!

But I don't need him for more than 'uncloaking' the Oracle's space-station, Delphi, so he can watch the rest from the ship. He's been used. Now he can be discarded. Soft, strong and disposable. Like a Kleenex.



Yeah, it seemed like a fun way to deal with the 'who gave you permission to call yourself Karate Kid' elephant in the room, and also serve as another way of showing off what sort of things Jeckie's mastery of sensory perception could do. I also wanted a Myg / Tyroc conversation, because they obviously never got to meet, and it allowed me to explore two people with limited characterization in one scene.



Thanks!

Almost done now, the finale of this chapter is stewing in mah brain!

cool beans Set!

Jeckie showing the full extent of what she can do, including overloading Ol-Vir with pain, was great. I always did feel she was nervous and anxious underneath her queenly mask, a characterization you had down pat.

I love the rest of your takes on Legionnaire powers and abilities - Tinya phasing others, Brin using long-range tactics against Sun-Killer, Jan’s speed being affected by how close elements are to each other, Gates being able to comprehend where warps lead, Tellus’ choice of using telepathy over telekinesis, Tyroc and his harmonics, how Myg thinks in a fight, Dirk burning out pheromones, Brek using his flight ring to hammer two opponents, Shady’s darkness, Mon trying to talk Titania down, Lydda’s abilities without her powers.

Brainy and Phantom Lad! Myg and Tyroc bantering! Gates and Tellus’ differing takes on politics! Tinya and Mon both alluding to Shady’s hand to hand skills! Jo and flatulence! Jan dealing with proposals for Trom!

and the villain reasoning out why he/she (sorry, I missed this detail and am lazy to look as i’m on my phone) wouldn’t kill so many Legionnaires!

so many things to like about your story. can’t wait for the finale

the only real quibble i have is that Gates didn’t get as much action, but it made sense in the context of the story. and he certainly had some excellent lines!

Yeah, I wanted to pay homage to how she used to be 'the fainting one', and yet also was the queenly one, a poise of regal confidence over someone who isn't always 100% sure of herself (and yet has matured enough over the years to be able to laugh at herself and recognize her own 'illusions').

The line, 'The illusion of pain, little man, is pain!' was ringing in my head when I came up with that notion, and I was dying to write that scene!



I had a lot of fun exploring the various characters both personality and powers, and it's totally cool that you are enjoying it also.

I liked how personality and powers sort of combined at times, with Sun Boy, in particular, both able to change the chemical nature of the pheromones by heating them up, and yet also more able to 'ride the wave' of chemical attraction/arousal just because he's such a horn-dog, and his 'beast' is 'well-fed,' compared to most other Legion men, who might have a harder time functioning through being overwhelmingly attracted to someone.

Lydda being able to punch / chokeout Neutrax even without her powers just made sense. She's pretty active, and has served as a combat trainer, while he's a scrawny dude in a chair...



I am strongly motivated to get this done, so hopefully I'll have the next update done tonight at work and posted by the morning!

And then on to the final chapter!

Thanks for the feedback!

As the team moved silently to the surface of the now-revealed station, gleaming white in the darkness by the light of the distant sun, Cosmic Boy registered the launch of multiple metallic objects, standard anti-meteor point defenses meant to pulverize or deflect incoming cosmic debris. With slight effort, he deflected each by micrometers, enough so that they missed their intended targets by many meters, by the time they reached them. Within moments, they had passed close enough to the station to be out of the arc of fire of such point defenses, although they remained on the alert for other defenses. Not for the first time, Rokk regretted that Shadow Lass had been on another team, as her darkfields were their best defense against lasers, the second most common close-in defense for stations of this type, but they were in luck, as no laser fire erupted, and they landed safely on the hull of the station.

Brainy had guided them to an airlock, and quickly broke the codes to cycle them in, before than Lightning Lass could resort to her more direct solution of frying the controls.

While the airlock cycled, Rokk decided that the tension needed breaking, and attempted some casual conversation, “So Brainy, how did you know that Solon would be able to overpower however many Bgtzlns are in here?” Brainiac 5 gave Cosmic Boy a funny look and replied with the exaggerated testiness that he knew amused his teammates and put them at ease that we was just ‘one of the guys’, “A Bgtzln was just needed to trigger the machine. It did all the work. It doesn’t matter how many Bgtzlns they have, or how good they are, my machine is better than their machine, as you’d know if you’d read my briefing…”

Over the open channel, Rokk could hear Ayla laugh and Jo mutter ‘Spaced!’ before he quipped back, “There was nothing ‘brief’ about your briefing, Brainy. It was 75,000 words!”

“He’s got you there, nobody reads your briefings,” Colossal Boy added to the good-natured ribbing.

“Quislet does!” chirped the contrary little spaceship that had accompanied them. “Many hands make light work!”

Rokk switched back to a private channel to Brainiac 5, “Do you have any idea what that meant?”

Brainy replied with a chuckle, “I never say this, but your guess is as good as mine…”

The airlock door cycled open and the Legion emerged into an empty corridor.

“Uh, where is everyone? They know we’re here, they were just shooting at us…”

“I may have crashed their internal sensors and cycled all of the airlocks on the station while I was getting us in here.” Brainy said nonchalantly.

Lightning Lass slapped Brainiac 5 on the shoulder, “You rule Brainy, I don’t care what everybody says.”

Brainy’s momentary look of discomfort flashed by almost too fast to be registered, but none of it entered his voice, “Let’s be serious now. Expect armed resistance and meta-human resistance. We know that at least Bgtzlns and Naltorians will be present…”

Colossal Boy scowled at the corridors, a hair over two meters in height, not at all conducive to the use of his growth powers, and noted the presence of pneuma-tubes running along the sides of the corridor. “And Imskians. Those are rapid transit tubes for getting Imskian or Neo-Ant engineering crew around quickly.”

“Noted.” Brainy said as the team reached a central hub, and a dozen humanoids clad in identical blue and white two-tone bodysuits looked up at them with mixed expressions of trepidation, surprise and resignation.

All hell broke loose as the crew of the Delphi raised weapons and opened fire!

Quislet whooped, dashing through the incoming weapons-fire and proving too small and fast a target to hit, but succeeding in drawing some fire away from his teammates, although prevented by the need for constant movement from bringing his own powers to bear.

‘At least he seems to be having fun,’ thought Lightning Lass sourly as she advanced under a shield of flashing lightning and booming thunder, batting away incoming plasma blasts with her own electrically-charged hands, thankful for the tiny pinpoints of targeting laser-light that allowed her to tell where the shooters were aiming. Behind her Colossal Boy advanced into the larger room and looked up at the shooters on walkways and gantries above them, and smiled. As easily as reaching for a jar from the top shelf, he expanded, his giant shoulder knocking one walkway completely over, people spilling from it to fall to the ground below with cries of alarm, and his now-enormous arm sweeping the second walkway clear a moment later, leaving the Legion to face only the forces on the ground.

Ultra Boy had been invulnerable, and providing cover for Infectious Lass, but seized the opportunity to shift to ultra-speed and disarmed the seven enemies that Colossal Boy had just brought to the ground, pausing to shift to ultra-strength and crush all of their weapons into a single mangled lump and toss it aside. As he did, his head rocked back, and an otherwise lean man with disproportionately large biceps expanded into view in front of him. The Imskian cried out in pain as his over-developed arm snapped under the strain, but remained standing, as did Jo, who pushed back off of the wall he’d fallen back against. “Imskian Explosive Uppercut,” Jo muttered. “Gotta remember to loosen up, or you’ll break your arm.” The Imskian met his gaze and opened his mouth to reply, but Jo just backhanded him into immediate unconsciousness. “Not interested.” Jo grunted, rubbing his jaw and shifting to invulnerability while he recovered from the weekend athlete’s sucker punch.

Dream Girl had entered hand to hand combat with one of the white-and-blue-clad station residents, a middle-aged man who seemed her match in skill and, to her surprise, precognitive ability. “The Oracle?” she queried, watching him move to counter a strike she had not yet begun to make, and similarly lifting a leg to avoid a sweep that he was only beginning to crouch into. Her opponent laughed at that, suggesting not, and Nura got a good look at his face, for the first time, having been too focused on the movements (and potential future positions) of his fists and feet, and gasped, recognizing the bold red sign of a Naltorian deathmark. She was facing someone who had foreseen his own death! He stopped as she hesitated, allowing her a moment to recover her focus, and she relaxed her posture entirely, “I have not foreseen killing anyone today…”

“You are not my death, seer Nal. It is an honor to meet you, even under circumstances such as this,” the marked man said with a small bow, before gesturing around at the wild melee surrounding them. “The Oracle is there. Fare well. I have a destiny to meet.” He added, pointing to an armored figure just crossing the room to enter the fray, before backing away from the impending fight, avoiding a rogue blast from one of his allies’ weapons with a casual duck of his head.

Quislet dashed across her line of vision, four or five Imskians clinging to the hull of his tiny ship, attempting to blast their way into the Teallan's tiny ship, and her momentary concern for his safety evaporated as she heard him cackling with glee as he performed loop the loops and turns that no vessel with a corporeal crew could possibly manage, shedding one of his Imskian boarders in the process, who managed to tumble to the floor, return to her full size, and become messily sick on the floor, before veering into Colossal Boy’s massive thigh with a sharp impact, causing the remaining Imskians to fly in all directions, at least temporarily incapacitated.

“Sorry!” she heard from above, where Gim had apparently not realized that Quislet had rammed into him deliberately, and assumed that he’d just gotten in the tiny Legionnaire’s way…

She returned her focus to the man who had been pointed out to her as the Oracle. He loomed before her, attacking and ranting indiscriminately in her vision, and she blinked to clear that and focus on the present, where he was still bearing down on her, but, indeed, already ranting.

The Oracle was a thin man, appearing taller because of his odd armor, but she suspected that he was as short as or shorter than herself, perhaps no taller than Polar Boy, but far leaner. His hair had been shorn away completely, and dozens of interface cables whipped like locks, free of whatever inputs they normally occupied. His armor was translucent ceramiplast over a two-tone blue and white bodysuit, like everyone else on the station, showing off the lean body beneath, which she found an odd choice, since he wasn’t much to look at. His face, in particular, was drawn and pale, with sleep-ringed eyes bulging frenetically from their sunken sockets and hollow cheeks. Under it all, she could see the ghost of a once-handsome man, but whatever hell he was putting himself through had ravaged his health, and, from the sound of his ranting, not done his sanity any favors either…

“I have foreseen your coming, seer Nal! Your gifts may be exceptional even among our people, but with my machines, I have transcended the need for sleep entirely, so that I live a constant waking vision! You but glimpse the future in dribs and drabs, I *am* the future!”

His armor clearly contained some sort of exo-skeletal strength enhancement, as he moves too quickly, and strikes a downward blow hard enough to dent the floorplates, or crush the bones of anyone who, unlike Nura, would have still been standing where he struck. Because of his armors transparency, he appears to be floating a few inches above the floor, and to be moving in an unsettling manner, jerking fitfully and blurring into motion. Nura found it easier to focus on where he was going to be with her precognitive insights, than to try and look at him directly. With the superhuman speed and strength his battlesuit afforded him, it was all she could do to stay ahead of him, for all her anticipatory skills…

“Rokk,”she says simply, not able to spare breath or attention for a longer conversation, and Cosmic Boy turns from where he was wrapping semi-conscious station crew up in metal cables to gesture at her armored figure. “His armor doesn’t have any metal components,” he said, and the Oracle interrupts to gloat. “It is all as I have foreseen! Your defeat is inevitable! Surrender and my telepath will erase your memories of this encounter, and we shall continue our business, after I make an example of whichever of my customers betrayed our location…”

Pausing to hear himself speak, the Oracle’s monologue is interrupted in turn as Cosmic Boy magnetically tears metal plates from the floor with a <sproing!> and hurls them like giant spinning shuriken at the armored figure, who flails about with out of control enhanced reflexes and strength, clumsily knocking most of them away. “You can’t do that! I have foreseen your surrender! This is a trick, a lie, stop lying!”

Dream Girl hurls herself the side to avoid a deflected metal floorplate and shouts to the others, “Ignore him, he’s insane, but that battlesuit is no joke…”

“You’re insane!” the Oracle shrieks, chucking a metal floor panel at Dream Girl, who twists aside at the last moment. “Soma, take them!” the Oracle calls to some unseen figure, or perhaps to some imaginary deity or power, Nura is not sure if he has grown so far detached from reality…

A blast of lightning from Lightning Lass flies under the Oracle, who leaps over it with superhuman ease. Behind him, a technician who had been avoiding the fray is shocked into unconsciousness with an ‘eep!’ and Ayla just shrugs, and attempts another bolt, steadying her left ‘blasting’ hand by gripping her wrist with her off hand as she aims. Next to her, Ultra Boy’s eyes glow blue and he mutters, “Dodge this, nutjob,” before the glow fades abruptly and he and Ayla both tumble to the floor, to lie in a tangle of limbs, like puppets with their strings cut. Moments later, Colossal Boy joins them, shrinking to normal height as his consciousness recedes, his last thought not to crush his teammates. Cosmic Boy as well stumbles against a wall and slides down it, as if shot, a soft snore the only indication that he still lives. Still in the corridor, Infectious Lass throws her hand to her forehead dramatically and drops into a dead faint as well, crumpling up gracefully like a flower blooming in reverse.

A blue-and-white jumpsuited man holding an unusual device steps forward, over the fallen Infectious Lass, and turns his strange weapon on Dream Girl, who recognizes the sensation of beta-wave induced sleep, such as from a neural restraint, only somehow being projected at range. ‘Of course,’ she thinks groggily, ‘Soma, for sleep…’ As a Naltorian, she has greater command of her sleeping mind, and can resist the effects, but it takes all of her concentration, and so it comes as a great relief when Quislet flies straight into the beam and then departs his ship to inhabit the sleep-inducing machine itself, causing it to form into a pair of cuffs over this Soma’s hands and forearms.

Moments later the impromptu restraints crumble, and Soma turns to Quislet, who has returned to his ship, only to face an overwhelming psychic assault that leaves the tiny Legionnaire’s ship trembling in mid-air. “Fool, my device was only making my telepathic commands to sleep harder to resist,” the Titanian boasted, “Even if I can’t put you to sleep, I can still put you to death!.”

His poise falters as a wrenching cramp in his gut disrupts his concentration, and he looks down to see a pale hand gripping his calf. Infectious Lass, no longer feigning sleep, smiles up at him. “Bacterial intelligences don’t sleep, at least, not like humanoids,” she confides, “I’ve got forty trillion brains, so you’re totally outnumbered. You should probably go somewhere and purge now…”

As ‘Soma’ curls up on the floor, helplessly dry-heaving in misery, Infectious Lass pulls herself to her feet. Unseen behind her, an unsteady Imskian enlarges and readies his plasma pistol in shaking hands for a shot, only to drop as an elongated orange limb extends a fist to the side of his head. His gun drops with a clatter, as he drops with a thud, and Drura turns to see a crystal-leaved ornamental plant shudder into the form of Chameleon Boy, who says, “Thank you! That telepath was really cramping my style! He knew everyone on the station, so I had to stick to forms that he wouldn’t scan, like furniture and decorations…”

Brainiac 5 has ignored the fray, for the most part, trusting to his force field belt for his own protection, and his teammates skills and abilities to handle whatever challenges come their way. Reaching an interface console that his teammates, or their foes, haven’t destroyed with poorly-aimed destructive forces, proves to be enough of a challenge for him, and he quickly interfaces with the one he finds, bypassing it’s encryption with contemptuous ease and beginning to scan records of the Oracle’s customers, it being quicker to simply view and remember the data, than try to download it (which would require breaking yet more encryption).

The Oracle grew increasingly erratic at the rapid change in circumstances, having been elated to see his telepath fell so many Legionnaires, only to see his victory snatched away by Infectious Lass. He swiveled in place, taking in each disastrous turn of events, until he spied Brainiac 5 casually accessing his files and snarled, “Impossible! You keep lying! This never happened! But I can stop you…”

Some sort of silent signal from the Oracle causes the lights to flicker as alarms sound. <<Self destruct enabled. One minute until core overload.>> “Now you have to leave! I’ll kill you all, you filthy liars! I can salvage this!”

Dream Girl has retreated to the slumbering Cosmic Boy and kicks his leg on her way to Ultra Boy and Lightning Lass, who have fallen together. Rokk groggily starts awake, and Nura shouts, “Shut this idiot up,” as she avoids a chunk of debris thrown by Oracle by diving on top of Ultra Boy and Lightning Lass, both of whom jolt awake with an ‘oof’ and a ‘whoa!’ respectively.

She rolls to her feel, her knees and elbows somehow managing to catch Ayla in the gut and Jo in the face in the process, and hears the reassuring <sproing> of Cosmic Boy’s magnetic manipulation forcing yet more metal into actions that stress their structure. Floor plates, some already detached previously, others wrenched up in this fresh display of power, swirl around the Oracle, and while he tries to adjust to a dozen possible targets, they swoop in en masse and wrap themselves around him, restraining his limbs.

Lightning Lass, accepting a hand up from Ultra Boy, blasted the metal-wrapped villain before he could tear his way free, shorting out the systems in his battlesuit, and leaving him barely conscious, protected by the non-metallic insulation of the suit. A moment later, Quislet flitted into and out of the battlesuit, so that mere moments later it shuddered and collapsed, leaving the Oracle helpless and exposed, looking like a frightened child, confused and in denial about how his much-touted predictive abilities failed to anticipate such an utter rout.

Shut the self-destruct system down,” Cosmic Boy ordered, “you’ve lost.” The bewildered Oracle attempted to do just that, but the system continued its silent countdown, and Dream Girl suddenly received a precognitive flash of the station exploding, imminently. “He can’t, we have to get everyone out of here!” she cried, grabbing the nearest half-conscious person she could and dragging them towards an airlock.

A nearby monitor projected an image of the Naltorian she’d initially faced, surrounded by a hellish red light, sweat pouring off of his face as he shouted over the sound of an overloaded reactor behind him, “I’m manually damping the reaction, it will buy you an extra forty-five seconds. Get them out seer…”

Ultra Boy was a blur of motion, using ultra speed and ultra-strength in bursts to grab restrained captives and move them into the nearest airlock, the one they had entered, and finding that the Legion cruiser had docked to that very airlock, allowing him to immediately begin cycling people off of the doomed station.

“Can you shut it down, Brainy?” Cosmic Boy asked, as his magnetic powers seized up restrained individuals by the metal he’d used to restrain them, and floated them quickly out the same corridor they’d entered, in Ultra Boy’s wake. Brainiac 5 is lingering at the console, attempting to memorize as much data as possible before leaving, and merely says, “No. Too much damage to the chamber. I’ve remotely piloted the cruiser to the airlock we entered.” Chameleon Boy, Quislet, Infectious Lass and Lightning Lass quickly follow in Ultra Boy’s wake, helping people, or hauling unconscious bodies, as they could, while Dream Girl paused to speak to the death-marked Naltorian on the monitor, “We’ll get them out,” she assured him, seeing that he was nearly unconscious from the irreversible radiation damage he’d already suffered in the belly of the reactor, he looked up, eyes sightless, and smiled weakly. “It was my first vision. I was thirteen. I save…” he coughed and nearly collapsed, until only a hand remained in view, and a whisper, “thirty eight people…” The hand slumped back out of view and Dream Girl clenched her fists and flew out of the room, followed by Cosmic Boy. “We’ve got to get him out of there…” the Braalian said, but Dream Girl stopped at the edge of the airlock and grabbed his arm and flung him forward, cycling the doors behind the door of them. “He’s already dead. He’s been dead for decades, its fate that’s finally caught up to him.”

On board the cruiser, Rokk turned back to the airlock, only to see the station receding away from them, as the cruiser had somehow already engaged its engines to get them away from the station, and he banged his fist on the airlock in frustration. “We could have saved him!” Dream Girl places a hand on his arm but he shakes it off angrily, “Don’t give me that fate nonsense, Nura. We’ve changed the timeline before.” She grabs his arm again more forcefully, spinning him to face him, his own angry tears confronting her own, “Yes, we have. And how did that work out for us? Do you want to create *another* Time Trapper?”

Any reply is cut off by the silent flash of light visible in the viewport, as Delphi explodes and the cruiser gently rocks with the end of the Oracle’s dream.

And so endeth the tale of the Oracle at Delphi!

There's so much to comment on here set I'm almost giddy!

This I really enjoyable, from the individual Legionnaires on the Armoury Asteroid each dealing with their opponents using their brains rather than raw power - particularly liked the Tellus and Sun Boy's sections, and Brek dealing with his two by using his flight ring was inspired.

As commented above by Klar, it's pretty obvious that politics would come into the teams relationships, they seem to be moulded to play that part.

The Projectra scene with Ol-Vir initially bugged me to be honest but when I thought about it you have absolutely nailed her potential powers - she has previously removed all sensory stimuli from the Persuader, including touch, and also the description in the last series of canon described her abilities as manipulation of sensory data - and pain is definitely a feeling that she could possible create under that remit. The clever twist that Ol-Vir moving at super speed made her lose her control over him was well done - she may have an endless range but she still needs to focus her abilities so if the recipient isn't where she is focussing then they won't be affected - brilliant limitation to a crazy power set.

The League were a pleasant surprise, particularly Mon El trying to reason with Titania - someone he once said needed chained up. Its an interesting point you raised there about the survivors of Korlon/Dryad and how they must have lost everything when their sun novaed and the survivors would be eking out their existence now. I wonder what sort of support the UP would offer? Lydda showing she doesn't need her abilities to take on a villain was great too - she came across as very capable and determined, which she must be to have hung around waiting for Rokk to make an honest woman of her.

In amongst a lot of great scene's the one with Myg and Tyroc stands out to me. Not only as it adds to Jeckie's imperious character but it was just really nice after all the action to have the two of them be friendly to one another. It made a great counterpoint to the violence just before it as well as adding another layer of character development and history to your story.

Brainy has taken a pretty powerful team - very versatile and experienced - there's going to be fireworks!

The throwaway line that Drura had been reseeding Daxam's micro-organisms was class!

Ha, Phantom Lad! What a great surprise! And the reason for taking him - his exhaustion after the machine had done it's job is typical Brainy - nice one Set.


"as you’d know if you’d read my briefing…” Ha! Good line.

Your Quislet is intriguing and fun - the perfect mix for that character, reading your version (and also Raz's) makes me almost regret writing it out from my own fan-fic.

Neo-Ant engineers? Cool! very evocative and another great throwaway line. Things like this just add deliciously to the whole future vibe without forcing outrageous descriptions of wacky pseudo-scientific randoms onto us. Very neat!

The final battle gave us a nice focus on Nura which is always welcomed by me.

Sorry, I just hit post by mistake there...

Brainy opening the airlock, and disabling the security and opening the other airlocks without tripping ant more alarms, and doing it quite casually just adds to how tremendous he is in this team. Also like Raz, you have a great handle on how to write him where he's smart, effective and not too over-bearing.

Anyway, the Naltorian death mark is a groovy cultural addition to an already rather odd culture. The Naltorian giving Nura respect well done, but then when I think about it really it's kind of expected as everyone from her world knows she will be a High Seer at some point.

I was a bit disappointed not to have read more of what Rokk and Gim were doing, though it made the battle scene a good length to read. Also, if you had followed my drawn out style of writing there we would still be in the airlock...

Quislet dealing with the Imskians by crashing into Gim was funny as was Gim then apologising for it.

The Oracle must have known he was going to be defeated, surely, so I wonder if that's what drove him over the edge? His battle armour was certainly effective, and luckily for him was non-metallic.

Having a telepath on site with a sleep ray was a sneaky - these subtle abilities are always the tricky ones to defeat aren't they? Quislet being almost taken out by the telepath was unexpected, I would have thought that that sort of attack wouldn't work but then there is a consciousness so why not? Drura's comment about having forty trillion brains really highlights how alien she is, and also how effective she can be.

Brainy being Brainy and playing to his strengths by raiding the Oracle's data while his teammates dealt with the physical threats was another nice moment for him. Dream Girl accidentally elbowing and standing on Jo and Ayla was funny. In the end it's clear that there just isn't enough fire power on Delphi to take ot a big team of Legionnaires, and the Oracles eventual defeat is nicely done using teamwork and a little strategy.

I was really impressed by the team saving as many of the Oracle's staff as possible - excellently done. And the final moment with the death marked Naltorian was tremendous... I save thirty eight people! Sperb!

The exchange between Rokk and Dreamy at the end was tense - and is it in canon that somewhere, Nura's meddling led to the creation of a Time Trapper?

Set, you have excelled, this is a great read, enjoyable, exciting, funny, action packed, even poignant, in fact everything a good story should be.

I really hope that this means we can expect more, more, more!

WOW. Powerful ending, Set! that whole business with the heroic Naltorian lackey... did he even want to be a villain? or was he just resigning himself to fate?

Gim recognizing the Imskian tubes was a nice touch

Especially liked Quis and Drura in battle, and Cham’s surprise appearance - a very Brainy move

also loved the banter at the start, with Brainy being “one of the guys”

I was about to quibble that Drura hadn’t gotten much action, like Gates, but you have them both great scenes

can’t wait for more!

Even with his body numb from cold, as long as he could stay conscious, his flight ring could move him around! I vaguely recall Sun Boy doing something similar in a fight with Dr. Regulus (who was immune to his fire powers) and it seemed like a neat touch to have his new best friend ape that tactic.



I was concerned that the illusory 'deaths' of Dawnstar, Ultra Boy and Sun Boy could come across as cheap tactics, in that scene, particularly, and that I might seem to be overselling her power, as well. Fortunately, Ol-Vir's reaction speeds and capability of leaving her range (which I arbitrarily limited), and her need to get him away from the city/planet, so that his heat vision attacks on her illusions wouldn't 'blow through' and kill people / demolish buildings behind them, gave her lots of challenges!



I love Lydda, so that was easy enough. I may have a bit more of her left for later, I'll see where the muse takes me for chapter 3.

Yeah, that 'chains are good for this one' line always bugged me.



Thanks! I really enjoyed getting a chance to work with those two, because we've seen so little of them, and what we have seen has been kind of 'eh,' so I like getting to flesh them out a little, and take them away from whatever stereotypes might have gotten mixed up with them.



That was one of two things I thought about doing 'Encyclopedia Galactica' entries on, but since I hadn't been doing them consistently throughout the fic, it would have felt weird to start now.







I had honestly forgotten him until now. He's not exactly my favorite character, but he's got as much a right to be there as anyone, and if I'm going to devote time to Projectra reminiscing about Val, whose been dead for ages, I guess I need to cowboy up and write me some Quislet!



Another thing I wanted to expand upon, but chose instead to go with a 'less is more' approach, rather than stall the action any further for an info-dump.



I love her sass. Because I've deliberately avoided using Shady so much (my unapologetic favorite Legion lady), I've been doubling down on Dawnstar and Dreamy, who also are supremely confident, in their own ways.

That must be a crazy culture, and I'd love to see more of it someday! Imagine everyone knowing that you are going to be President someday? Or everyone knowing that you are *not* going to be President, someday... Yikes!



I did feel like I was losing track of people, at times. Dividing the team into solo fights for the LSV fight at the Armory of Ancients plays more to my strengths. Trying to figure out who is where and the various interactions between interlocking battles between a half-dozen Legionnaires and various bad-guys is hard!



He did not! I'll get into that more, with the beginning of Chapter 3, but his 'brilliant' idea for staying half-awake all the time so that he can live a constant waking vision is not quite as reliable as he'd hoped...

Still, he did get some things right. His battle armor being non-metallic (and insulated against electrical attacks, among other things) was not a coincidence!



Soma was originally going to be called 'Miss Morpheus,' but I felt like, with Lightning Lady in the first chapter, and some other stuff going on, I might be dipping too deep into my trend of making all my memorable new characters ladies, and so the Oracle's 'shop' was more dude-heavy, and 'Miss Morpheus' became 'Soma.' After all the uses of beta-wave-inducing sleep technology I'd been tossing around willy-nilly with those neural restraints, it only felt fair to have that technology being used *against* the Legionnaires, and it made for a nice attack that could take out several Legionnaires without necessarily killing anyone. (That said, I'd already established that Coluans were immune, with Questor, and it just made sense that Somahturans might be as well. Quislet obviously was, but he's still got a mind in there, so a more direct telepathic attack seemed more likely to work.)



Thanks! I was concerned that I'd gotten a little treacly at that point!



I was just going with that idea that all of the Legion's messing around with time back in the golden and silver age (mostly involving Kal and Kara) might have led to drawing the attention of the Time Trapper, if not actually forming it, and that Nura, as a Naltorian, might know more about such things than Rokk.



Thank you so very much for the kind feedback! I am smiling as I type this!



One more chapter to go, although Brainy's now got the information he needs, so it's going go fast and furious now!

I'm glad you liked it! Thanks again!

I was going with the thought that he'd known since he was a teenager that this was how he was going to die, and he just did what he had to do to end up in this place, at this time, where he'd already seen what was going to happen. Given the Oracle surprise at his defeat, I'm guessing they didn't talk much about the specifics...

And I didn't even bother to give the guy a name. Bad, Set!



Cham was another case of a character that I hadn't gotten around to, and having him away on Espionage Squad business only 'paid off' if I later unveiled him as having infiltrated somewhere cool, like Delphi itself! (And in the Oracles rantings, he mentioned wanting to punish whichever customer gave up his location, so even the Oracle had no idea that there was a Legionnaire *on his station*!)



Drura was a last minute addition, as I was adding characters that had been suggested to be Legionnaires in recent years, like Night Girl and Chameleon Girl, and remembered that Drura, during her visit to the 21st century, was suggested to have been a Legionnaire. So I ran with that, since the team needed a few more ladies, and I wasn't using Dragonwing, Harmonia Li, Glorith and Comet Queen.

Thanks for the feedback! One more chapter to go!

Which may or may not be titled, 'One Ring to Rule Them All.'

I lied! Chapter three will be named;

Wrapped Around Your Finger and it starteth noweth.