“What in the name of the Darquin Dodecahederix is a ‘Confider?’” Blademaster Scwan asked.
The Legionnaire ignored his companion’s query. “You’ve spent the last few days trying to get a piece of me--here I am! Come on out and get me!” Garth warily rotated his body in a slow circle.
“How did you ever conclude that you must climb up here and examine this particular spotlight?”
Garth decided to humor the disembodied voice for the moment. “It was your choice of victim, by targeting Pasvock before he even left the Fornax system you altered you MO--you never struck so quickly before--there had to be a reason. And it became evident, when I watched the footage of the performance, just what it was--Pasvock was the only guest who completely evaded the spotlight, and thus was not exposed to whatever mind controlling effects this machine generates.”
“Bravo, Legionnaire,” faint clapping preceded the emergence of a figure from the shadows.
“R.K.?” Lightning Lad recognized with surprise. Already certain of the Confider’s identity, Garth knew his foe was using the adolescent as a mere pawn in the deadly game they were engaged in. “Listen, R.K., somehow you’ve been affected by this gadget, too. I need you to try and resist what it’s doing to you--concentrate as hard as you can--fight to recover your true self!”
A frown crossed the youth’s suddenly shaking features. He brought up his hands to either side of his face, as if to steady his head. “I--I do not believe our Master would wish me to do that...”
“‘Our?’ What do you mean by--” Lightning Lad turned around in time to barely perceive the hilt of the Blademaster’s expertly thrown dagger, aimed at his forehead, before losing consciousness.
Reception Hall, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:
“Let us end this wonderful evening with a few toasts: First, to the good health and swift recovery of our much beloved colleague, Athena Amore.” The assembled members of Crimway’s repertory troupe all clinked their drinks together. “We should not forget to acknowledge our superlative special twin guest stars from the Legion of Super-Heroes, Light Lass and Lightning Lad.” Blushing, Ayla curtsied slightly, to the bemusement of the others. “Finally, I salute each and every one of you, the members of the Globe of the Bard Theatre Troupe,” Vade Crimway’s normally mellifluous voice choked up a bit, “the finest repertory acting company in the galaxy.”
“Vade,” Burton called out afterwards. “Have you decided what our next endeavor shall be yet?”
“Actually, I have.” Director Crimway pulled out his omincom. “After a two week hiatus, our troupe will embark on a schedule of performing ‘Henry IV Part I’ on Fridays, ‘Henry IV Part II’ on Saturdays, and ‘Henry V’ on Sundays at the Globe of the Bard, for a five month engagement.”
“And have you made any casting decisions as well?” Burton asked.
“Yes,” Crimway patted Paulo Lesharney’s shoulder. “Congratulations, my boy, you will be the primary star of our productions as Prince Hal--I trust you will prove to be exemplary in the role.”
“Thank you sir,” Paulo’s eyes shone with excitement. “I won’t let the company down.”
“Excellent. Cory, you will be King Henry IV. Ruj, you will be Ned Poins. Kylina, you will be Mistress Quickly. Herriot , you will be Pistol. Zak, you will be Sir John Falstaff--”
“I think you made a mistake, Vade,” Kale suddenly interjected. “I always portray Falstaff.”
“Apparently not.” Crimway noted a bit coldly. “You, Kale, will portray Bardolph, instead.”
“I must strenuously protest--”
“No,” Crimway locked gazes with the complaining actor. “What you will do is practice your enunciation and improve your memorization techniques,” the director locked his arms over his chest. “To ensure that your flawed performance of tonight does not occur again.”
“But Zak messes up his lines all the time,” Kale pointed out.
“I then expect such missteps from him--not you. Adding the fact that you muffed your line during what was unquestionably the most important production this troupe has ever staged, makes your transgression all the more glaring. Therefore, Kale, you will, nay, must face the consequences.”
“I must state that it was really Lightning Lad’s fault,” objected Burton. “For some silly reason or another, he mentioned the word during rehersals and it must’ve stuck in Kale’s mind, that’s all.”
“That does not mitigate Kale’s miscue.” Crimway gave his head a dismissive shake. “‘Confider,’ indeed! What contemporary significance could such an archaic term possible have, anyway?”
Lair of the Confider, Somewhere Beneath Nova Avon:
“That’s quite a nasty bruise on your forehead, Legionnaire--had the Blademaster thrown his weapon harder, you may have never awoken at all. But then again, he is an expert at such things.”
Groggily, Lightning Lad realized he was in a darkened area lying supine on a hard flat surface. He subtly attempted to move his arms, and was not surprised to find them immobile at the wrists. Garth was even less shocked to discover he was currently incapable of generating even the merest spark of electricity. Keeping Dream Girl’s prophecy in mind, the Legion member submerged his rising panic deep within. Garth knew he was shortly destined to become embroiled in the fight of his life, however, he had learned by dire experience, that in any seemingly hopeless battle, a Legionnaire had a chance--no matter how slight--of achieving a hard fought victory over any foe.
“For your edification, you have by now, found out that your powers are non-responsive. That is due to the lurium enhanced energy neutralization field devised by our mutual friend, Tiberius Pasvock. But wait, you two were never properly introduced, were you? A shame,” mocked the mechanically altered voice of his enemy. “Now, why are you still feigning unconsciousness? Really, what possible advantage could such a pathetic ploy gain you at this point, my friend?”
“I am merely resting my eyes,” retorted Garth. “Today has been an extremely difficult day.”
“You have a definite flair for understatement.” A menacing cackle of distorted laughter filled the air. “Yet, as the concluding endgame of our contest of wills begins to unfurl, here I stand, the enigmatic and invincible Confider. Tell me honestly, have you not been dying to see my face?”
“Actually, that particular mission goal has dipped significantly to assume a rather low priority.”
“An amateurish attempt at bravado, Legionnaire. You have no inkling of who I truly am.”
“That fact is essentially correct, but then again, I am well aware of exactly what you resemble.”
“You are a poor liar, Lightning Lad, my impenetrable disguise has never been compromised.”
“Oh? Then would you mind answering one simple question?”
“I have no fear of any query your desperation may contrive to perturb my well being.”
“Can you tell me what you ultimately did with Zak and Kale, the actual Prendo twins of Winath?”
The room abruptly burst with light. “How could you possibly know?” The Confider demanded, leaning his familiar features menacingly over his prisoner. “My cover is beyond perfection!”
“Well, I’ll admit to a meager measure of confusion, initially,” Garth smirked as he witnessed his captor’s ruddy complexion grow more scarlet by the second. “But the lack of any superfluous unsanctioned sentients ever being detected in the theatre did cause me to reassess my approach--”
“How did you discover my secret?”
“Simple, you were careless.”
“You lie!” The Confider wrenched Garth’s chin roughly. “My disguise was absolutely flawless! You must’ve guessed--” An expression of maniacal glee filled his face. “--a mere lucky guess...”
“Heh, then you’re claiming that dropping your nom de guerre before an audience of countless sentients was but a clever ploy, meant to divert my suspicion? News flash: It failed to work. Yet, it was the way you handled Sir Toby Belch’s armor which represented your most critical mistake.”
“What could you possibly mean by that? I’ve worn armor countless times.”
“During our sparring session earlier today, I witnessed Zak take off his brother’s breastplate which Kale then examined by hand. Yet, later when I scanned the suit, only one set of fingerprints were detectable. While Winathian twins can share DNA, they cannot share the same fingerprints.” He chuckled at the discomfort of his tormentor. “But the multiple forms of a Cargggite can and do.”
“Nooo,” the Confider moaned. “A simpleton like you can’t have figured it all out completely--”
“It’s really quite an ingenuous little plan,” mocked the Legionnaire. “A Cargggite adopting the identities of a mere pair of Winathian twins, thus has an extra body free to cause whatever chaos he may desire--which serves both as a perfect disguise as well as an unimpeachable alibi.”
Enraged, the Confider threw a punch at his defenseless prisoner and bloodied his target’s lips. “Those idiots! Clearly, they should have been much more careful in your presence...”
“Who are you calling idiots?” Kale Prendo demanded, as he and Zak came into view.
“Yeah, he just happened to be in the same room, that’s all. No one else would have even noticed.”
“Well, look who has finally found the nerve to make their entrances,” Garth spat out a mouthful of blood. “My would-be Winathian brothers in arms, the pseudo-Prendo twins.”
Kale mirrored the previous actions of his other self, striking the bound Legionnaire in the face. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve been wanting to do that. Here Zak, you take a crack at him.”
“Shut up and merge! We’ve been apart too long! We’ll need our complete mental and physical unity to determine what to do with our guest.” He deftly moved between the Prendos and forcibly integrated them into himself. “Ah, that’s better,” the Confider proclaimed, whole once more.
“You still haven’t answered my question-- what happened to the real Prendo twins?”
The reunited Cargggite smiled. “In the words of the celebrated twentieth-century Earth thespian, Lawrence Tero: ‘I ain’t sayin’ I killed them, but nobody will ever see them again!’” The Confider emoted in a gruff voice. “Suffice it to say, your ultimate disposition is of far greater importance.”
“Nice to know where I stand.”
“Your flippancy in the face of doom is admirable, yet in the end, a futile gesture. However, you have proven to be far more formidable than I first anticipated.” He smartly slapped Lightning Lad across the face and twisted his head, forcing the Legionnaire to behold the eerie sight of the Blademaster and R.K. mutely standing rock-still, staring blankly ahead. “Congratulations, I’ve just decided to induct you as the newest member of my own personal legion of slaves!”
“You might be able to somehow get unwitting people to fall under your control, but I am fully aware of what you’re doing, and will fight you with every once of my being!” Garth vowed.
“Poor deluded boy.” The Confider shook his head with mock pity. “You actually believe the MAIM device will grant you a choice? If asked, your friends over there could tell you differently.”
“‘MAIM?’”
“Still fishing for information? My my, you are a persistent one, aren’t you?”
“If I’m to become one of your zombies, what possible harm would explaining things to me be?”
“You have been a valiant opponent, Lightning Lad,” the Confider conceded. “I suppose you deserve to learn the utter totality of your imminent defeat.” He straightened up, and cleared his throat, as if he were a professor preparing to deliver a lecture. “MAIM is the acronym for the ‘Mental Alignment Integrating Matrix’--one of the deepest and darkest secrets of Cargggite society. Centuries ago, when a newborn child would display indications of divergent personas, the MAIM would be used to unify all the emotional aspects into a single coherent personality. Generations ago, the practice was outlawed, and the people were left to develop naturally.”
“Yet decades later, an anonymous misanthrope accidently stumbles--” Garth was struck again.
“Don’t interrupt me!” The Confider roared furiously. “Fifteen years ago, I, Trelando Tyoriveaux a brilliant psychology student, uncovered the schematics of the device in an antiquated psychiatry text. Through my ingenious tinkering, I successfully adapted it to affect non-Cargggite cerebral synaptic networks. Thus, I became capable of bending any individual in the galaxy to my will.”
“And how did you come to assume the identities of the Prendo twins on the Bard’s Globe?”
“Mostly through serendipitous happenstances far too convoluted too explain in what little time you now possess.” The Confider sneered. “Now, are you prepared to embrace your destiny?”
“It still won’t work,” Garth insisted. “Your control can’t be absolute! The indomitable spirit of an individual cannot be fully subsumed forever--eventually, the need for freedom must prevail!”
“Really? Perhaps this demonstration will persuade you just how wrong you are.” He gazed over to his statue-like minions. “Lukos Scwan, step over here.” Without a word, the Blademaster instantly obeyed the directive given by his master. “Now, unsheathe your famous blade.”
“As you command, Master,” intoned Lukos as he withdrew his dagger.
“Surely, you’ve heard the ancient saying about not learning history,” the Confider sneered.
“No!” Garth could see what the ‘demonstration’ would entail. “You don’t have to do this!”
“You’re the one who requires convincing,” the Confider shrugged. “Lukos, plunge your dagger into your belly and precisely follow the scar the Black Dragon once gave you--immediately!”
“As you command, Master,” Lukos reiterated, as he lifted his weapon aloft.
“No, Lukos! You have to fight it!” Garth cried out in desperation. “Fight him! You can do it--”
The Blademaster drove his blade into his own abdomen, dragging the dagger across his body. After finishing the grisly deed, Scwan did not fall down until the scar was completely retraced.
“Now that was quite an effective demonstration, I must say. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“You monster!” Garth screamed. “Help him! There’s still time to save--”
“I was getting rather tired of him anyway. Besides,” he glanced over to the spot where R.K. now stood alone. “I’ve got a multitude of replacements to choose from--including you, Legionnaire.”
As the very lifeblood and viscera of the Blademaster silently seeped to the floor, Garth could only watch in abject horror. Finally, Lukos Scwan’s breathing grew shallow, and his eyelids shut. “You must be completely crazy if you think I’m going to let you get away with that, Confider!”
“I’ve already gotten away with such actions hundreds of times, Lightning Lad, ergo, it would appear that your sanity should be the one in question.” The Confider worked a remote control, causing a large cylindrical pointed device to swung about, threateningly looming over his captive.
“Gloat why you can, Tyoriveaux, I’ll overcome the effects of your MAIM device, and personally see to it you pay for all your crimes especially nearly killing Athena Amore in trying to get to me.”
“Oh, you are an idiot, Legionnaire,” the Confider clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I did not shoot the Bard’s Globe’s resident agent of the Inter-stellar Counter-Intelligence Corps.”
“You’re lying! It must have been you--”
“Why should I lie? You are a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes, I know for a fact that you have a myriad of foes eager to settle old scores.” The Confider made a few adjustments. “While this isn’t as powerful as the primary mechanism in the theatre, it will suit the current situation quite nicely. Enjoy your next few thoughts of individuality, Legionnaire--they will be your last.”
“No.” In a superhuman effort, Blademaster Lukos Scwan agonizingly got to his knees and threw his dagger in the direction of the Confider, before finally collapsing into a gory lifeless heap.
“Even in death, your friend remains a pathetic loser,” declared the Confider with a laugh. He strode over and kicked the bloodied corpse “His weapon never even came close to striking me.”
“That’s because Lukos Scwan wasn’t aiming his blade to kill you.” The bonds holding Garth’s wrists abruptly shattered, and the Legionnaire swiftly rolled off the table. “He was freeing me!”
The Confider turned in alarm to discover the blade of the Blademaster buried in the power conduit which maintained the neutralization field.. “Nooo!” He howled in dismay, as Lightning Lad completely obliterated the MAIM machinery overhead with a few quick, adeptly-aimed bolts.
“Now Confider,” Garth arose with his fists glittering with unreleased power. “Our game is over.”
“Do not claim victory yet, Lightning Lad,” the Confider furiously worked his remote. “As you will shortly see, I kept one last pawn in reserve to play.” A portal across the room slid open, and a shadowy figure stepped into the light. “You must defend your Master! Destroy the intruder, now!”
Lighting Lad instantly recognized the newcomer, and realized Dream Girl’s prophecy was far more accurate than he could have imagined--Garth Ranzz, indeed, was in for the fight of his life.
“As you command, Master,” intoned Kal-El of Krypton.
Living Quarters of ICC Chief Paltins Kolar, Undisclosed Location, Earth:
After giving a curt nod to the guard at the door, Chief Kolar entered the darkened rooms and was about to order the lights to activate, when he detected a faint familiar odor. He only required a brief moment to identify the aroma. “Good Evening.” Unseen in the encompassing blackness, a bemused smile formed on his lips. “For what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Admiral?”
“There’s no need for such formality, Pallie, I have been retired for several years now, you know.”
“Lights.” The room lit up to reveal Wynn Allon, comfortably lounging on an overstuffed couch, leisurely smoking a telltale pipe. “Merely showing proper respect to an honored colleague.” They shook hands, and Kolar opted to sit in a nearby chair. “Should I bother asking how you got in?”
“Not if you’re expecting any kind of answer,” Allon blew out a ring of smoke. “I may be retired, but I still maintain my fair share of secrets. What kept you? I’ve been waiting here ten minutes.”
“Had I known I had a visitor, I would have adjusted my schedule accordingly.” The ICC Chief leaned forward, removing his headgear. “If you must know, tonight, a top ICC agent was nearly murdered. It’s only in the last few hours that they’ve been deemed medically out of the woods.”
“I’m sorry. The dangers inherent in your kind of work are really rather relentless aren’t they?”
“On days such as today, they only seem to multiply,” opined Kolar, as he arose briefly, and returned, placing a decanter and a pair of red tumblers on the low table between them. He poured out two drinks and handed one to his guest. “What is it exactly that you want from me, Wynn?”
“I require a favor of a decidedly delicate nature.”
“If it’s well within reason, I’ll certainly do what I can.”
“Excellent,” Allon scanned the room to and fro, as if to ensure they were alone. “I need you to discreetly launch an investigation into the circumstances behind the death of Caleb Isaacs.”
Kolar managed to keep the discomfort he was experiencing from expressing itself on his worn features. “That request is problematic at best, Wynn. Besides, as I recall, there has already been a thorough investigation of the unfortunate matter with quite conclusive findings.”
“Findings which irrevocably brand one of the greatest men I ever knew, a craven traitor.”
“Which makes the situation even more untenable. I realize that you and the ambassador were close, Wynn.” Kolar gave his friend a sympathetic nod. “But there are considerably more than a few people, high within the United Planets governmental hierarchy, who want no part of the scandal caused by Isaacs’ controversial suicidal actions, and prefer the entire matter kept closed.”
“If he had declined his ambassadorship, my wife and I never would have met. Everything that is good in my life, I owe to that man. It’s almost not an exaggeration to state it has been killing Gim, Marte, and myself, that his reputation has been so tarnished.” Allon took a long sip of his drink. “Caleb Isaacs was not merely a close friend, Pallie. He was a beloved member of our family.”
“I can appreciate that sentiment, Wynn.” Kolar refilled their glasses. “But with one of my best operatives down, the resources necessary to do what you ask, are currently just not available.”
Allon put away his pipe and scowled. “Do you truly expect me to believe that--”
Abruptly, Saturn Girl unexpectedly burst into the room. “Chief Kolar! I need a word with you!”
“I-I’m s-sorry, sir,” sputtered the ICC guard trailing behind. “The Legionnaire just forced her way within the premises and demanded to see you. Everyone tried to stop her, but no one could--”
“Everything’s fine here, corporal. Have the rest of security stand down.” He glanced at Allon. “And since our business has concluded, show the Admiral out, and escort him to his residence.”
“Then will you undertake the matter we discussed, Chief Kolar?” Allon arose and got to his feet.
Kolar sagged his shoulders slightly. “Regretfully, Admiral Allon, not at this point in time.”
The disappointment shimmering in Wynn Allon’s eyes was impossible to miss. “Then I shall take my leave.” He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment of the Legion Leader. “Saturn Girl.”
“Admiral Allon,” Saturn Girl called out. “If the matter you and Chief Kolar were discussing is what I think it was, and, indeed, I am fairly certain that it is, you should be aware of one thing.”
“And what is that, Legionnaire?”
“You may rest assured, that someone quite capable is looking into the matter in question.”
Allon smiled wanly. “That is the best news I’ve heard all week.” He followed the guard out.
“Why did you tell him all that?” Chief Kolar asked.
“The poor man had lost all hope, I simply gave it back to him.” She punched her fist into her other hand. “I need any information you have on the murder of Professor Tiberius Pasvock of Brok.”
“Murder? I believe the man has only been reported missing--”
She pulled out a holo player and activated it. “The SP branch on Brok received this a few hours ago. Chief Wilson is applying pressure to have Lightning Lad surrender himself for questioning.”
“After watching this footage, I can’t blame him. Come this way.” Kolar led her out into the hall.
“I also want to see every bit of information you have concerning the Confider,” added Saturn Girl.
“I’m confused. Did you not cede all jurisdiction in that case to the ICC?”
“The circumstances have changed.” She declared, as they swiftly traversed the corridor.
“In what manner? I haven’t been informed of any new developments.”
Saturn Girl bit her lip. “Apparently, Lightning Lad has vanished off the face of Verbapotens.”
“The ICC has a number of operatives currently on the Bard’s Globe, we can offer some support--”
“Legion members are already planetside–if anyone can find Lightning Lad, it’s Superboy...”
Lair of the Confider, Somewhere Beneath Nova Avon:
“Aaaauughh!” Lighting Lad screamed, as Superboy used his super-breath to propel the fellow Legionnaire into a wall for a fifth time. On this occasion, however, the sound of multiple ribs cracking was definitely audible. He fired off a barrage of lightning bolts which merely glanced harmlessly off the chest of the MAIM-controlled Kryptonian. “C’mon Kal,” Garth pled with his ever encroaching friend. “If you can’t fight off the effects, what chance does anyone else have?”
“Why none at all, Lightning Lad, that’s just the point.” Tyoriveaux was now seated in the main control center, enjoying the spectacle of two Legionnaires locked in mortal combat. “I cannot tell you how delighted I was to learn who was accompanying Brande to the festival. It even strained my considerable genius to diagram and construct the complex Kryptonite filaments that would allow the MAIM device to affect the legendary Superboy, himself! Thanks to you, by delivering history’s greatest champion, I, the Confider, now have a foothold into the conquest of time itself!”
Garth hated to admit the fact to himself, but what the Cargggite homicidal psychopath had proclaimed was absolutely true. Had he not traveled to the Bard’s Globe, the series of events which had led to this very moment could never had occurred, and one of the best friends he ever had, would not be an unwitting, yet still lethal, mind controlled puppet in the midst of killing him.
“It’s not too late for you, Lightning Lad, simply submit to my will, and join my legion of slaves.”
“Never!” Garth mounted a frantic charge at Superboy, unleashing the most powerful bolts he could muster. The impact sent both figures flying, in opposite directions. Superboy rose to his feet almost immediately. Crashing against a wall once again, Garth was too stunned to even move.
“Don’t force me to order your execution,” Tyoriveaux pulled the Blademaster’s dagger free and began to idly examine it. “You may yet survive to be one of the fortunate few who will witness the glorious ascension of the New Galactic Age of the Confider, which will shortly be at hand!”
‘Hand,’ the word reverberated dimly in Garth consciousness... He recalled that Nura had foreseen something about his hands... She had warned him that they would be completely red, as if coated with blood... Garth opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. Both of them were covered with dusty debris and there was a fair amount of his own blood streaked across them, but they could hardly be described as being drenched with blood ... Inspiration suddenly struck him like one of his own thunderbolts. He quickly reached into the hidden pouch of his cape and stealthily retrieved the ‘Redball Gauntlets’ secreted within. Garth fervently hoped that Superboy would not initiate a final fatal assault, before he managed to slip on the experimental handwear (developed in conjunction with Brainiac Five and Sun Boy) which were intended for only the most direst of crises or--in the parlance of police personnel from twentieth century Earth--redball situations...
“Aw, what’s the matter, Lightning Lad, are your fingers feeling a bit cold?” The Confider inquired with mock concern. “I must say, however, with that color, those would look better on Sun Boy.” He magnanimously spread his arms out wide. “Yet, I am being an ungracious host. Superboy, use your heat vision to warm up our chilly guest,” he commanded with a malicious expression.
“As you command, Master.” Twin shafts of searing energy shot from Superboy’s eyes.
In an almost casual fashion, Lightning Lad merely raised an arm and caught both beams, as they directly struck his now gloved protected palm, without ill effect. “You know, Tyoriveaux, you really should upgrade the vocabulary of your zombies. They sound about as unintelligent as you.”
“H-How could you possible survive that? You should be nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes!”
“You were actually right about something for a change.” Garth smirked through his swollen lips. “These are a pair of gloves designed for use by Sun Boy, and thus are completely immune to extremely high temperatures.” He brought up his other arm. “You’d best give up now, Confider.”
“You are insane if you think such a ridiculous little stunt will save you!” The Confider pounded his fist against the console before him. “Superboy, destroy Lightning Lad utterly, by any means! I want his crushed skull placed in my hands immediately!” Trelando Tyoriveaux smiled viciously.
“As you command, Ma--”
“Forgive me, Kal,” Lightning Lad hurriedly whispered, before revealing the true power of the Redball Gauntlets. By channeling his electrical powers through the gloves, plus a well coordinated twist of his wrists, Garth produced a massive sphere of crimson energy and sent it careening into the invulnerable form of his friend. After the projectile slammed into Superboy, (preventing the fellow Legionnaire from finishing the slavish mantra) the Kryptonian was powerfully thrown backwards, smashing a sizable hole through the wall behind. “Daxamian Ball Lightning, the most potent form of electricity in this galaxy,” he explained with a smug sneer. “If it could do that to Superboy, just how do you suppose it will affect you?” Garth lifted a fist to Tyoriveaux’s face.
“I surrender?” The Confider meekly lifted up his arms with a pitiful, beseeching expression.
Lightning Lad responded with an scarlet electrical bolt. “Not good enough!” In truth, the intricate interior circuitry painstaking designed and crafted by Brainiac Five had already been fused solid, rendering the Redball Gauntlets essentially useless (which is why only a few pairs had ever been manufactured) but Garth had no intention of confiding that fact to his foe. “That was for Ayla!” He sent another bolt which blasted his target out of the chair and up and over the central control console. “That was for Athena! And this--” He took a tight grip of Trelando Tyoriveaux’s shoulders. “--this is for me!” Garth gave him a thirty second continuous shock. “Now triplicate!”
“Why? What for?” The Confider moaned weakly, while writhing on the floor.
“I’m making certain all of you are present and accounted for. I’m not allowing for the possibility of any part of the Confider eluding capture--now do it!” The Cargggite split up and Garth shocked the pair wearing the Prendo twins’ clothing unconscious. “Have anything to say for yourself?”
“I’ve got power, wealth, influence, and the most exclusive data matrices in the galaxy--everything anyone could ever want! Just turn those two in, while allowing me to go, and it can be all yours!”
Garth shook his head in a disgusted manner. “You truly are a pathetic piece of slime, Confider.”
“Lightning Lad, wait!” The fearful desperation etched across the visage of the now thoroughly vanquished galactic secrets broker was unmistakable. “Let me get away from Verbapotens, and I’ll give you the one piece of information that your heart desires the most in the entire universe!”
“And what could that possibly be?”
“The current whereabouts of your long-lost older brother, Mekt.”
“Where is he?” Garth lifted the Confider up by the collar, screaming directly into the other’s face.
“I’ve named my price,” Tyoriveaux regained a measure of boldness. “Are you willing to pay it?”
Lightning Lad slammed his foe to the floor. “You hired Mekt to kill Professor Pasvock--and superficially altered his DNA traces to match mine--you turned my brother into a murderer!”
“I did nothing to Mekt Ranzz, save transferring a inordinate amount of credits to an account of his choice. You could finally arrange for the clinical help that your elder sibling so sorely needs. The reunification of your shattered family, in exchange for my freedom, is a more than equitable exchange.” The Confider arose on unsteady feet, offering his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”
“If you truly believe, that under any circumstances, I would ever permit you to escape, after all the murder and mayhem which you are personally responsible for across the galaxy, then I must confide one thing to you, Trelando Tyoriveaux,” Garth threw an electrified uppercut which sent the Confider sprawling to the ground, unconscious. “That you do not know a damned thing!” Finding his hands too swollen to remove the Redball Gauntlets smoothly, Garth used his teeth to pull them off one finger at a time, and afterwards, threw them down into the face of his defeated opponent.
Lightning Lad turned around, intent on verifying the condition of his fellow Legionnaire. Gray mist-like vapors, which were evidently not smoke, slowly spewed from the roughly Superboy-shaped aperture in the wall. He was about to venture within, when he perceived a fallen fog-enshrouded shape on the floor. Racing forward, he stooped down and dragged R.K. away from the fumes. He took the youth’s pulse and deemed it was strong, yet greatly accelerated. Standing up, he wrapped his cape over the lower part of his face to filter the oncoming gases as best he could, and plunged into the opening. It was a scientific storeroom of some kind, as complicated bits of technology and various glassware vessels, containing multitudes of substances, lined the shelves. He located his unconscious target half-buried amidst a huge pile of rubble. Hoisting Superboy over his shoulder, the Legionnaire exited the clouded area, and emerging free, placed his friend down next to R.K. Dropping to his knees, he pulled out Superboy’s cape, and rummaged through the concealed pouch, withdrawing a Legion communicator after a few long anxious moments.
“This is Livewire calling Big Brain.” Garth used Legionnaire emergency coded callsigns. “Repeat: This is Livewire calling Big Brain. Have you got your green ears on out there, Big Brain?”
“Naturally,” a familiar voice responded. “Where else would they be?”
Garth almost laughed in relief to hear Brainiac Five’s deadpan reply. “Hone in on this signal, Brainy, we’ve got several medical emergencies, with possible exposure to hazardous materials.”
“Understood. Keep transmitting. I am on my way, ETA twelve minutes. Since you are using his communicator, may I presume Superboy did succeed in finding you, Lightning Lad?”
The Legionnaire looked down at the scorched emblem on Superboy’s chest. “You could say that.” A sudden idea came to Garth’s mind. “Brainy, could you send a brief message to the clubhouse?”
“Easily. What missive do you wish to convey?”
“Three words,” Garth grinned despite his bruised face. “Non-sanctioned Mission: Accomplished.”
Monday
Nova Avon Spaceport:
“Lukos Scwan of Thaun, The Blademaster. The Humblest of Heroes, The Finest of Friends.”
“All done,” noted Superboy, his heat vision finishing the inscription on the metallic tube’s surface.
“Very concise, yet also elegant Garth,” Planetary Director Vade Crimway nodded his head in approval. “Lukos would have appreciated the sentiment. While I always knew he considered his work in our troupe beneath him, I’m gratified that he died as the hero he always was in spirit.”
“Thanks.” Lightning Lad walked forward and clapped Brainy’s shoulder. “I’m really grateful that you and Superboy did such a great job in constructing this commemorative tomb so quickly.”
Brainiac Five merely shrugged. “Did you truly expect anything less?”
Garth chuckled. But grew somber when he noticed the figure seated in the anti-gravchair being tended to by his sister. “How is R.K.? He looks fine now, but are there any chances he could still suffer any harmful effects as a consequence of inhaling the Confider’s cocktail of chemicals?”
“He still has minute traces of hydrochronic acid, among other unidentified compounds in his system.” Brainiac Five scowled. “Ergo, unforeseen detrimental ramifications remain possibilities.”
“I don’t understand, Brainy. You should have be able to reverse engineer at least a few of the unknown substances from the trace amounts of residue left behind at the Confider crime scene.”
“True, however, while I was preoccupied with helping Superboy, utilizing his mind as a template to determine how to detect, and shortly thereafter, remove the insidious will-altering effects of the MAIM device, your ICC acquaintances took it upon themselves to confiscate the entire contents of the Confider’s lair. They insist upon attempting to examine the virtual mountains of evidence with their own so-called forensic ‘experts.’” Brainiac Five spat out the final word with profound disgust.
“I just hope their intransigence, doesn’t end up hurting that kid in the long run,”Garth grimaced.
“He died saving my life, and I can’t even remember what really happened,” sniffed R.K.
“That may be for the best R.K., please don’t dwell on it. We promised your parents we’d take good care of you while we escort you to Medicus One.” Light Lass placed another blanket over him.
R.K. looked up at her with haunted eyes. “Do you know what really happened last night?”
“Well...” Ayla appeared uncomfortable. “I wasn’t there mind you, but from what I’ve been told, my brother recruited the Blademaster and the Prendo twins in tracking down the sniper that shot Athena. You apparently saw them leave the theatre, and impulsively followed them. Using clues uncovered while investigating the catwalks above the stage, the group eventually stumbled upon a hidden subterranean stronghold of a sinister secrets broker known only as the Confider.”
“What does that even mean? Some sort of spy or something?”
“Basically,” Light Lass shrugged. “Anyway, their was a battle of some kind, which ended when some of the Confider’s minions managed to take you hostage. In an inspired gamble, the Prendos made use of their look-a-like appearances and caused enough confusion among the guards to allow Garth to break free. While Garth and Scwan went to rescue you, the twins were told to create a diversion. The place held a huge stockpile of chemicals, and the Prendos decided to ignite a bit of it, to distract your captors. But they misjudged the volatility of the compounds which began a cascading effect which transformed the entire place into an inferno in mere moments. Garth barely had time to grab you up and escape with your lives. Lukos, Zak, and Kale... weren’t as fortunate.”
“And that Confider creep?”
“No one knows for sure, but general consensus is whoever that person was, probably escaped.”
“I still can’t recall any of it,” R.K. grimaced. “It’s strange, my Mom says I never act on impulse...”
“Are we ready to seal everything up for the launch?” Superboy asked.
“Not quite,” Garth solemnly withdrew the blade of the Blademaster, and gave it to Vade Crimway.
“I thought he might want to have this placed on display in the Prop Weapons Room of the Globe of the Bard Theatre, rather than have it sealed away forever with his mortal remains. But you knew Lukos Scwan far longer, so I leave the ultimate decision in you capable hands, Planetary Director.”
Crimway slowly spun the dagger between his fingers. “I too, doubt the Blademaster would wish it to be locked away for all eternity, nor do I think the Globe of the Bard an appropriate venue for its display.” He gently returned the weapon to Garth. “But I am absolutely certain Lukos would have been extremely proud beyond words, if it were granted a place of honor amidst the collection of exhibits kept in the Trophy Room within the clubhouse of the renowned Legion of Super-Heroes.”
“On Verbapotens, the word of the Planetary Director is law,” Lightning Lad recited with a grin. “An excellent suggestion, Vade. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend to it immediately--”
“Don’t worry, it would be my great privilege to make the proper arrangements, Garth.”
“You, Superboy?” Crimway asked in puzzlement. “I had no idea you and Lukos had even met.”
“During the after show party for ‘A Comedy of Errors,’ Vade.” Superboy accepted the blade from Lightning Lad. “He was an exceptional person of valor, and deserves to be remembered as such.”
Three minutes later, The Planetary Director of Verbapotens pressed the control which sent the memorial rocket containing Lukos Scwan on its way to the cemetery asteroid of Shanghalla.
“Good-bye, old friend.” Vade Crimway bent his head briefly in reverence. “I’ve got to make funeral arrangements for Zak and Kale Prendo, so this is farewell, my Legionnaire friends.” He shook each of their hands, and tousled R.K.’s hair fondly in parting. “You, dear Ayla, are welcome upon the Globe of the Bard’s stage whenever your heart desires.” In reply, he received a parting peck on the cheek from Light Lass, before stepping away to enter his chauffeured air-limousine.
“Give me a minute, Vade.” Lightning Lad called out after him. He quickly knelt by R.K. “I just want to tell you that you were extremely brave last night, and I hope you have a quick recovery.”
“Aren’t you going back to Earth with us, Lightning Lad?”
“No, I’ve been ordered to wait here and be picked up later by a Legion Goodwill Tour.” He gave a quick hug to his sister and nods from Superboy and Brainy. “Later guys.” Garth joined Crimway.
“Come on, R.K.,” Light Lass pushed the gravchair forward. “Our cruiser is just a little over there.”
“Please, I’ve decided I do not wish to be called R.K. anymore, that’s a name for a little kid. Even if I never recall what happened yesterday, my childhood innocence has been shattered forever.”
“What would you prefer to be referred to as, then?” Brainiac Five inquired.
“Kent,” the youth gazed with awe at his namesake. “From now on, I’m just Kent Shakespeare...”
Allon Residence: Metropolis: Earth
“I’ll get it, Wynn. I’m done with the breakfast dishes anyway. You just finish reading the news.”
“Thanks, Hon.”
Marte Allon, humming a cheery tune from childhood, wiped her damp hands on a towel before keying in the entry code signaling the apartment portal to swiftly slide open. “Yes?”
“Professor Allon,” greeted ICC Chief Kolar with a well-practiced bow. “I must confess, you look quite fetching this fine morning. Would the good Admiral be up and about at this early hour?”
“Of c-course,” she stammered, momentarily flustered at the sight of the individual her husband had spent the previous night belittling and berating in the privacy of their bedroom. “Please come in.”
“Thank you,” Kolar calmly strode forward and glanced about. “You’ve redecorated since I was here last, the night before young Gim left for the Science Police Academy on Mars, as I recall.”
“Yes, almost five years ago,” She glared at the visitor. “That send off celebration was also the last time Ambassador Caleb Isaacs was here, before the horrific events of last week.”
“I can’t begin to express to you how sorry I was to hear of that tragic event--”
“Then please, don’t try,” Marte Allon responded in a cool tone. “Wynn, darling, you have a guest.”
“Chief Kolar.” Wynn Allon arose and shook hands. “What bring you here, today? Please tell me you’ve actually reconsidered, and have found the resources to accomplish that favor I asked for.”
“Perhaps I merely wished to return the same courtesy you extended to me last night, the difference being, in deference to the sensibilities of your lovely wife, I chose to utilize the front door.”
“I trust you would have better cause than that to disrupt our peaceful morning.”
“Could we move this conversation to the den? I assume you must’ve seen to the damage by now.”
“What you can say in front of me, you may say in front of my wife, Chief.”
“Then by all means, bring her along, If you wish-- I just need to see where everything began.”
Exchanging puzzled looks, the Allons acceded to their guest’s request, escorting Kolar to the freshly repaired section of their home. In truth, neither had entered the area since Isaacs’ suicide. Gim, and a few of his Legionnaire comrades, had personally restored the room to a pristine state.
Once inside, the ICC Chief carefully scrutinized the entire space. He quietly moved slowly throughout the chamber, as if recreating the final actions of the late Ambassador Isaacs in his mind.
“Chief, I believe you asked to come in here to tell me something?” Wynn Allon held his arms akimbo. “Frankly, your silent stalking about the place is becoming more than a tad unnerving.”
“My apologies, I merely wanted to get a firm idea in my head of what actually occurred here. As this is where the case started, I find it appropriate that it also comes to an end of sorts here as well.” He straightened up. “I came to inform you that officially, the ICC cannot honor your request to further investigate the details culminating in the death of former Ambassador Caleb Isaacs--”
“I see no need to have delivered this refusal in person, it hardly seems worth--”
“Admiral,” Kolar raised a forefinger and shook it slightly. “Please allow me to finish. As I was saying, the ICC cannot investigate the case further, as someone already has, and closed it to boot.”
“Closed it?” Marte Allon looked at her husband in shock. “What does that mean for Caleb?”
“Caleb Isaacs has officially been exonerated of any posthumous charges of treason. He was but one of the final unfortunate victims of an extremely twisted, insidious, and homicidal individual, covertly operating within our galaxy, murdering hundreds, if not thousands of our most brilliant minds.” He withdrew a data chip. “This will tell you all I am allowed to share with you--civilians.”
Marte eagerly took the chip and headed for the computer on the desk. “Thank you, Chief Kolar.”
“I concur, Pallie,” Wynn clasped Kolar’s shoulder. “Thanks for restoring Caleb’s good name.”
“Don’t thank me, Wynn,” ICC Chief Kolar replied with a grin. “Save the gratitude for your son.”
“Gim? But why?”
“For having excellent taste in friends, of course.”
Epilogue I:
Nova Avon Medi-Center:
“At long last, the love of my life, has finally deigned to visit his Lady Love in her sickbed.”
“Not exactly,” Garth smirked. He strode into the room and placed a fond kiss upon Athena’s brow. “I would have arrived earlier, but your father can be quite intimidating--far more than that herd of helmeted hooligans that shadow him. And if you hadn’t heard, I was a little preoccupied last night. I got involved in a bit of a scuffle with a mutual enemy of ours--the Confider--remember him?”
“I’d heard.” Terri Torr smiled. “I only wish I was there to help you bring him down.”
“Well, you shouldn’t, it was a rough time, and not without casualties. Wait--how have you heard? You’ve been isolated in this recovery room with a pair of Tiresias brothers watching your door.”
“Chief Kolar ordered ICC Operative Red Sun to stealthily keep me informed periodically of what has happened since I awoke from surgery. With their abilities, the assignment was simple.” Terri Torr leaned forward and gently reached out to touch the over-sized bandage splayed across Garth’s forehead. “But it looks like the Confider got in a few good punches too, Garthy,” she teased.
“Actually, that was from the Blademaster...” Garth’s voice faltered. “The Confider may have converted him into a helpless catspaw, but in the end, Lukos Scwan still managed to save my life.”
“I’ll certainly miss him. He was always a perfect gentleman.”
“But enough about my night, how are you? You had us all worried, you know, especially Ayla.”
“Brainiac Five has assured me that I will be up and around in a week, but I foresee he will be off by a day or so. Where are your other Legionnaire comrades anyway?” She frowned slightly. “I thought, at the very least your sister, Light Lass, would want to say good-bye.”
“They already left for Earth, as Brainy wanted to get R.K. Shakespeare to Medicus One as soon as possible to run some high-level diagnostic tests on the anomalous substances in the kid’s system.”
“Why are you still here, Garth?” An undercurrent of excited anticipation was evident in her eyes.
“Just a stopover,” Lightning Lad revealed in a light tone. “A Legion Cruiser is due planetside soon, to pick me up for a new mission. Besides, you knew I had to come and say a proper good-bye.”
She gently poked his tender ribs. “Are you positive you’re ready for more action so soon, Garthy?”
“Yes,” Lightning Lad backed away half a step, protective of his freshly- healed injuries. “Besides, I don’t have much of a choice,” he shrugged. “I’m a Legionnaire--I go to where I’m ordered.”
“What if I told you that Chief Kolar was so impressed by how well you comported yourself in extraordinary circumstances, he wishes to convey a unique opportunity. If you agree to officially join the Inter-stellar Counter-Intelligence Corps, you could have your choice of any assignment.”
“That’s really flattering,” Garth winced. “But please inform him that while I am greatly honored by the offer, I am fully committed to the Legion of Super-Heroes for the foreseeable future.”
“I knew that you would say that,” she formed a sad smile. “I just thought we made a terrific team.”
“That we did, Terri,” Garth assured her, cupping her chin. “Hey, why don’t you consider joining the Legion, instead? We could always use the precognitive powers of someone from Naltor.”
“Oh no,” Terri tittered. “I’ve learned from past experience a long time ago to steer clear of any of Nura’s sloppy seconds. Besides, I suspect Dream Girl will be reclaiming her Legion membership sooner, rather than later. Not to mention the fact that Chief Kolar has already given me a new assignment.” Her face was radiant with excitement. “I’m to remain here on the Bard’s Globe, maintaining my stage persona as Athena Amore, and assume the identity of the new Confider!”
“I’d wondered why Kolar insisted on ‘embellishing’ the events of yesterday--especially the part implying that the Confider was still at large.” Garth rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Foolish me, I thought is was to protect the reputation of the real Kale and Zak Prendo. I can’t say I envy you, obviously, the ICC expects you to hook some big fish among the Confider’s elite clientele.”
“That, and become a reliable source of misinformation to those who would wish the United Planets ill,” she affirmed. “I still can’t fathom the fact that this Trelando Tyoriveaux character was able to maintain his masquerade for so long. I truly considered Kale and Zak to be good friends of mine.”
“Speaking of the Prendo twins, have the ICC had any luck in tracking the real ones down?”
“The Data Retrieval Division’s been combing nonstop through the recoverable data matrices, but found no trace of them. They are fairly certain the Prendos’ identities were stolen upon their arrival on Verbapotens. There are medical records which provide evidence that Tyoriveaux arranged to have mild facial reconstruction surgery done to himself, shortly after that particular point in time.”
“Have the total number of people affected by the MAIM technology been determined yet? Brainy was beside himself when he discovered he and Mr. Brande were among them. Was Vade as well?”
“Utilizing the MAIM detector devised by your fellow Legionnaire, ICC Medical has subtly been testing those who have spent time within the Globe of the Bard Theatre. Surprisingly, Planetary Director Crimway was not, neither was your sister. But my Father, Nura and Jeckie were.”
“Jeckie?”
“Just an old friend of mine. Anyway, they estimate that perhaps as much as twelve percent of the entire population of Nova Avon may unbeknownst have been in the Confider’s ‘legion of slaves.’”
“And what about the numerous possible victims who have since traveled offworld?”
“Medical has assembled a fairly comprehensive list, and even as we speak, are checking each one.”
“The High Seer and Dream Girl--are they aware of your identity as ‘Agent Verdant Veldt’ now?”
“No, and I appreciate the fact that you managed to preserve my cover under extremely stressful conditions, Garthy. I know my Father must have unjustly blamed you for what happened.”
“He did, but it didn’t really matter,” Garth reached out and stroked her dark silken hair. “His position was understandable. Besides, I was more concerned about your well-being, not my own...”
“Were you?” Terri inquired in a husky voice, as she leaned closer to Garth. “Just how much...?”
A sharp knock disrupted the moment. Unbidden, the head and shoulders of Colossal Boy peeked out from the entryway. “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Amore, but we need Lightning Lad to go with us.”
“Just give me five minutes, okay, Gim?”
“Sure, I understand.” He withdrew his torso briefly but quickly returned. “Garth, I need to thank you in person for keeping your promise to clear up my Uncle Caleb’s good name and reputation.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Garth admitted. “But a pledge made between Legionnaires should be sacrosanct.”
“Wish you could convince Brainiac Five of that concept,” Colossal Boy chuckled. “It would certainly make all of our lives in the Legion a heck of a lot simpler.” He gave the pair a knowing wink. “Take fifteen, Garth. I suspect you’ll need every last second,” predicted the departing figure.
“Well,” Lightning Lad ran a hand through his hair. “I guess with the actual Confider incarcerated anonymously in a classified ICC detention facility, our ‘Garthena’ cover is no longer necessary. How should we end it? A loud spat in front of a nosy nurse? Or perhaps an official press release?”
Athena Amore shook her head with a sly expression. “We say absolutely nothing, Garth. You get on that Legion ship, and I’ll continue to convalesce in this Medi-Center. Let the media tabloids proclaim whatever speculative headlines they will--they would have done so in any case anyway.”
“I may have inadvertently planted seeds of dissension, already,” Garth revealed with a shrug. “You were right about the hordes of vendors selling Garthena souvenirs. Yesterday, one was set up near the Medi-Center entrance. The guy had the nerve to ask me to autograph some of his stuff,” he shook his head in a bemused fashion. “And actually took umbrage when I patently refused him.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Why nothing at all,” Garth retorted in a mock offended tone. “I merely suggested to the man that he had best sell out his stock of Garthena merchandise as soon as possible, and diplomatically advised him to make a generous donation from the proceeds to the Winathian Orphans Fund.”
“I’ve been hearing all about your diplomatic skills, Garthy. I’ll bet that creep tried to peddle the exclusive rights of his version of the encounter to the Intergalactic Eye mere minutes afterwards.”
“You would have won that bet, Double Vee,” quipped a familiar voice.
“ICC Operative Red Sun I presume,” Garth’s head tilted in acknowledgment. “I should’ve known.”
“Hello, Legionnaire. I hear you knocked Kal around pretty good last night, I must admit that is one twentieth century pastime I sorely miss from time to time.” A hard copy of the Intergalactic Eye was set upon Agent Torr’s laptop table, declaring ‘Lovelorn Legionnaire Loses Light of Life!’
“And so it begins, the first tiny particle of dirt which will ultimately turn into a veritable mudslide of tabloid dreck,” Terri noted with an exaggerated sigh. “What’s the latest word from the ICC?”
“As the former Confider has not been forthcoming with any answers at all--in particular--the last known whereabouts of you older brother Mekt, Lightning Lad. Chief Kolar has authorized a psychological escalation of the Trelando Tyoriveaux interrogation. For the time being, each of his triplicate selves are to be completely isolated from the others until further notice.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer cretin,”Athena, muttered under her breath. “Thanks for the update--see you in another four hours. Oh, and inform the Chief that our Legionnaire friend, politely declines the chance to join our illustrious corps of professionals to remain with his Legion of Amateurs.”
“‘Super-Amateurs,’” Garth corrected with a grin.
“Gotcha,” ICC Operative Red Sun vanished in a blur of super speed.
“I really should get going,” Lightning Lad reached out to hold her hand. “The guys are waiting.”
“I know,” Terri’s eyes began glistening. “There’s just so much I want to say to you Garth...”
“Hey, I almost forgot, I have something that should cheer you up,” Garth produced a golden chain from which hung a Garthena pendant. “That guy from yesterday gave me this as a parting gift. I had Brainy certify that it is real gold. I figured you were too preoccupied to get one for yourself.”
She fingered the dangling symbol. “It’s beautiful. You certainly do have an eye for the aesthetic.” She sat up and gathered up her hair over the nape of her neck. “Put it on for me please.”
“Sure.” As he finished hooking the clasp, their eyes met, mere heartbeats before their lips followed suit. Stunned by the passion they both exhibited, Garth could only utter, “What was that for?”
“Just something to remember me by for the next seven months or so,” Terri Torr smiled coyly.
“Seven months? What is supposed to happen then?”
“By my calculations, Garthy, it’ll take that amount of time for you to finally come to the realization that you’ve fallen for the wrong girl, and start looking for the right one, namely, yours truly.”
“So the new Confider is just as obstinate as the old Confider,” Lightning Lad observed, slightly shaking his head. “Did you know that Tyoriveaux still claims he was not the sniper who shot you?”
“He admits to countless cases of murder and espionage but balks at mere assault?”
“He’s clearly delusional.” Garth Ranzz stood up and placed a gentle kiss of farewell on Terri Torr’s cheek. “All I can say is that, if the Confider didn’t do it, I have no earthly idea who did...”
Epilogue II:
Elsewhere:
In a darkened chamber, a single figure moved across to sit before a communications array. With a few deft keyboard commands, an audio link was swiftly established. “Are you free to talk?”
“Yes, the others are preoccupied for the moment,” replied the person at the other end of the call.
“Current status?”
“Enroute to headquarters; ETA eight hours.”
“How could you fail the mission so utterly? It was a simple shot to make.”
“It wasn’t my fault! The actress from Naltor moved into the beam at the very last moment.”
“I suppose, it was a hastily conceived scheme, but still, we could not pass up the opportunity.”
“Do the others suspect what we attempted to do?” The Sniper asked the Leader.
“That we tried to incapacitate Lightning Lad, so that he would be off the active duty roster during the terminal stages of Operation B? No, we were far too careful. If only we had succeeded...”
“We both knew when all of us decided to undertake this objective, that Lightning Lad would be the most difficult target of them all. What should we do now? With the Confider taking all the blame for that entire incident, that leaves us free to strike again at Garth any time we wish.”
“Nothing. Return to base, and await further word with the rest of us. Out.” The lithe figure stepped into the hallway outside, revealing the troubled features of Imra Ardeen, Saturn Girl, Leader of the Legion of Super-Heroes. She didn’t scan the mind of that little pesky Protean to maintain her leadership for a second term, only to jeopardize everything by making mistakes now, she reminded herself. As inexplicably distasteful as it was to her at a personal level, with the failure of the desperate gambit she and Ayla had attempted, Garth Ranzz’s ultimate destiny was now sealed. Lightning Lad would share the fate of the rest of his Legionnaire brethren, inevitable doom as outlined in Operation: Betrayal. Unbeknownst to Saturn Girl, a single tear trailed down her cheek.
END
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