“Wait a sec,” Holly protested. “I thought this was supposed to be some sort of self-esteem workshop.”
“Yes,” a dark-haired staff worker assured her as she fastened a polished bronze breastplate over Holly’s chest. A second attendant slid a steel bracelet onto the confused fugitive’s forearm. “We’re simply applying your ceremonial garb.”
Holly glanced down at herself. A skirt of studded leather straps hung below the molded bronze cuirass. Metal greaves protected her lower legs. Steel-toed leather boots encased her feet. “Seriously, you do know this is battle armor, right?”
“Nonsense,” the brunette said. She held out a bronze headpiece bearing the sculpted visage of a snarling panther. “Now, let’s get you into your Purification Helmet.” Holly eyed the feline totem molded upon the helmet. A nod to her short-lived stint as a substitute Catwoman, or just a coincidence? She was already uneasy about the fact that Harley Quinn knew all about Holly’s dubious past; heck, she had nearly fled the shelter after Harley had dropped that bombshell on her in the spa, but the Joker’s supposedly reformed former squeeze had insisted that Holly’s secret was safe among her Athenian “sisters.” Every woman at the shelter, Harley had argued, was running from something, but this place was all about second chances. In the end, Holly had decided to hang around a little longer, mostly because she had nowhere else to go.
Now she was starting to have second thoughts. What sort of self-help exercise requires body armor?
The dressers clamped the heavy helmet over Holly’s head and checked the fastenings on her “ceremonial garb” one more time. They led her out of the private dressing room into a colonnaded hallway, where she found several similarly armored women gathered outside a pair of towering wooden doors. Judging from their body language and what Holly could see of their faces, the other women looked just as baffled as she was. Herded together, they looked like refugees from a Xena convention.
“What in the world ... ?”
Holly joined the other women. The metal armor jangled every time one of them moved. Holly recognized one of the armored girls as Tricia, another newcomer to the shelter. She gripped a nasty-looking forked weapon.
“Um,” Holly said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re holding a trident?”
Tricia appeared puzzled by that as well. She stared nervously at the weapon. “Y-yeah.”
“Okay, just seeing if you knew that.” Holly guessed that the trident hadn’t been Trish’s idea. The African-American teenage runaway acted as though she had never held anything like it before. Holly noticed that some of the other girls were armed with maces, flails, whips, nets, and swords.
Did Hawkman have a yard sale or something?
A trumpet sounded somewhere beyond the ponderous oaken doors, which swung open to admit the armored women. Holly hesitated upon the threshold, getting a bad feeling about this. She had never explored this part of the shelter, so she had no idea what lay ahead. Athena’s subordinates prodded the apprehensive girls forward. “Where have I seen this before?” Holly murmured aloud. “Was it in a movie? I’m pretty sure it was in a movie....”
Sure enough, the doorway led to an impressive recreation of an ancient Roman coliseum, complete with a sawdust floor and high stone walls. A domed sunroof offered a tantalizing view of a clear blue sky. The heavy doors slammed shut behind Holly and the others, and she heard a massive bolt being slid into place on the other side of the doors. Visions of Russell Crowe fighting for his life flashed through her mind.
“Oh yeah. I hated that movie.”
A self-esteem workshop, my ass!
“My glorious sisters!” a booming voice addressed them. “Welcome to your future!”
Holly looked up to see Athena herself presiding over the occasion from a balcony overlooking the floor of the arena. An honor guard of spear-wielding Amazons flanked Athena. A velvet banner bearing the image of a Gorgon’s bleeding head hung below the balcony. Writhing serpents were embroidered along the fringes of the bunting. During her stay at the shelter, Holly had learned that these symbols had long been associated with the mythological Athena, who was the goddess of warfare as well as wisdom. According to the legends, it was Athena who had taught Perseus how to slay Medusa. Holly still hadn’t decided if the woman above was the actual goddess or just a charismatic namesake like Maxie Zeus, a deranged Gotham ganglord who claimed to be the genuine King of the Gods. Selina had always said Maxie was a real loser. Wonder what she’d think of this Athena?
Certainly, the esteemed founder of the women’s shelter looked more like a goddess than ever. A goatskin breastplate, known as the Aegis, was draped over her spotless silk robes. All eyes turned toward her regal figure. Her exotically accented voice rang out over the arena.
“Each of you has endured hardships. You have been overlooked, forgotten, trampled upon. Today, you will free yourselves from your pasts, eradicate your insecurities, and purify your souls. Unleash your fury, my sisters, and become warriors!”
Holly couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you kidding me?” Athena didn’t seriously expect them to engage in some sort of gladiatorial bloodbath, did she? “These are runaway girls, not Spartans!”
Her protests fell on deaf ears. Belying her words, Tri-cia suddenly turned on Holly. A ferocious war ciy escaped the girl’s lips as she lunged at Holly with the trident. Hours of training in hand-to-hand combat came to Holly’s rescue as she deftly evaded the lethal thrust. Momentum carried Tricia past her and Holly stuck out her leg to trip the other woman, who took a header into the sawdust. Holly ' moved quickly to disarm the girl, only to discover that Tricia hadn’t been the only woman to respond to Athena’s stirring oratory. Grunts, groans, and clanging metal echoed throughout the arena as Holly found herself smack in the middle of an all-out free-for-all involving over a dozen would-be gladiators. Studded maces dented helmets. Armored bodies slammed against each other. Heated voices hissed, swore, and howled in fury as die aggrieved women took out years of suppressed anger and frustration on their fellow refugees. Blood and broken teeth spilled onto the sawdust.
Just my luck, Holly thought, I’m the only one without a weapon. She mentally crucified her neglectful dressers. Thanks a lot, gals.
She didn’t want to hurt anyone, but with the melee raging all around her, she had no choice but to fight back in self-defense. Battling figures hemmed her in on all sides. A wild-eyed gladiator swung a mace at her head, but Holly rolled beneath the blow, then jumped back up onto her feet just in time to see another woman jabbing a sword in her direction. Two more fighters grappling in front of her blocked Holly’s escape, so she grabbed on to their shoulders and used them for leverage as she swung around to kick the overeager swordswoman in the gut. The blade flew from the woman’s hands as she tumbled backward onto the sawdust, nearly getting trampled by the brawling women nearby. She scrambled desperately after her sword, only to get kicked in the ribs by another girl.
Holly’s eyes lit up as she spied a leather bullwhip, Cat-woman’s weapon of choice, in the hands of a young Hispanic woman a few feet away. The girl flicked the whip ineptly, obviously having no idea how to use it. It was embarrassing to watch. What a waste, Holly thought.
“I’ll take that, thanks!” She elbowed the girl in the chin and yanked the whip from her fingers. It felt reassuringly familiar. Holly couldn’t work the whip the way Selina could, but she had picked up the basics over the years. She 'cracked the whip in warning, carving out a little breathing room in the midst of the violence. The sharp report of the whip cut through the tumult. Fearful “warriors” backed away from Holly.
That’s better, she thought. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she saw that at least a third of the gladiators had already had the fight beaten out of them. Their moaning bodies were strewn about the floor of the arena. Thankfully, the majority of the brawlers possessed more enthusiasm than skill; they wielded the archaic weapons clumsily, exhausting themselves as well as their opponents. Holly guessed that most of them had never been in a real fight before, let alone pitted themselves against the worst that Gotham’s underworld had to offer. Selina could take out this whole bunch without even breaking a sweat....
With maybe one notable exception.
Holly spied another warrior cutting a swath through the inept gladiators. A bronze faceplate, fashioned in the semblance of the classical Greek mask of Comedy, concealed the woman’s features, but there was no mistaking her fighting abilities. Twirling a blunt cudgel like a baton, she bludgeoned the daylights out of her adversaries while nimbly evading every blow or thrust directed at her. She practically-danced through the frenzied melee, leaving a trail of battered gladiators behind. None of the other women could even lay a hand on her.
Uh-oh, Holly thought. Better keep an eye out for Funny Face there.
A pair of charging warriors distracted her from the mystery woman. Whooping like they were hyped up on Joker Juice, they clearly intended to tag team Holly with extreme prejudice. Safety in numbers proved no protection, however, as Holly snapped her stolen whip. The lash wrapped itself around the lead attacker’s waist, yanking her off her feet and directly into the path of her comrade. The partners went down in a clatter of clanging armor. Angry obscenities assailed the ears of the gods.
Holly jerked the whip loose and glanced around to see who was next. Only a few feet away, two dueling gladiators had managed to get the chains of their maces hopelessly tangled together. Cursing loudly, they struggled to free their weapons while simultaneously kicking at each other’s shins. Holly didn’t know whether to laugh or shake her head in dismay.
This whole thing is insane, Holly thought. What’s so “purifying" about encouraging untrained, emotionally damaged girls to beat each other up?
She considered trying to break up the fight in front of her, but before she could intervene, the female dynamo embodying Comedy leapt between the two women. Kicking out her legs in midair, she nailed both women with her steel-shod heels, then landed adroitly on her feet a few yards away from Holly, who couldn’t help being impressed by the stranger’s agility. The masked woman triumphantly spun the cudgel above her head before taking a bow. She faced Holly across the suddenly silent arena. Holly realized belatedly that they were the last two women standing.
Holly tightened her grip on the bullwhip. Fine, she thought. If Funny Face isn ’t going to back down, then neither am I. Perspiration dripped beneath her helmet and armor. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. To be honest, part of her was enjoying the workout; it had been a while since she’d kicked a little butt. Athena wants a show? Okay, let’s give her one.
Holly imagined Athena’s cool gray eyes gazing down on them, but couldn’t risk sneaking a peek at the balcony to see how their supposed benefactress was reacting to the spectacle so far. Wounded gladiators crawled away to the fringes of the arena, getting safely out of the way. Discarded weapons littered the ground. The hot sun shone down through the glass dome overhead. Naturally, the coliseum was not air-conditioned. The stuffy atmosphere reeked of blood and sweat. Holly figured she didn’t smell too fresh either.
She and Funny Face warily circled each other, taking each other’s measure. Holly briefly wondered what the other woman’s story was before pushing the thought aside. Win first; ask questions later, she reminded herself. Remember what they say about curiosity and cats.
The masked woman made the first move, swinging at Holly with the weighted end of the cudgel. Holly darted to the left, dodging the strike, and came up quickly behind Funny Face. Holding on to a length of whip with both hands, she wrapped it around the other woman’s throat like a garrote. “Ha!” she gloated as Funny Face let out a strangled gasp. The club slipped from her opponent’s grasp as her fingers clutched at the oiled rope around her neck. Holly grinned victoriously. It was just like Selina always said: When in doubt, fight dirty.
Of course, she also said, Never drop your guard....
Funny Face jabbed her armored elbow into Holly’s side hard enough to dent the metal cuirass. The pain loosened Holly’s grip on the lash and the masked woman yanked the rope away from her throat. Springing forward onto her hands, she slammed the soles of her feet into
Holly’s lower jaw. Blood sprayed from a busted lip as Holly reeled backward, letting go of the whip, even as her acrobatic enemy flipped back onto her feet. Panting hard, both women assumed defensive positions as they circled each other once more, this time unarmed. Holly’s whip lay on the ground nearby, tantalizingly out of reach, along with the fallen club.
Damn, she’s good. Holly wiped the blood from her lips. Need to switch tactics and move this fight inside. Her eyes narrowed as she looked for an opening. The molded steel armor felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She pined for her black leather catsuit....
“I have seen enough!” Athena announced from above. That’s it? Holly thought. The fight’s over? Just to be sure, she waited until Funny Face lowered her guard before doing the same. The two combatants turned toward the balcony. Athena smiled down upon them.
“You are among the lucky ones,” she declared, “who have passed this sacred test. You, along with a few select others, will be making the pilgrimage to Paradise Island to achieve full citizenship among the Amazons!”
Holly gasped. She’d heard of Paradise Island, of course. Everyone had. That was where Wonder Woman was from: a mystical realm, hidden somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle, inhabited only by a race of immortal woman warriors. Like the underwater city of Atlantis, or the Bottle City of Kandor, it was one of those legendary places you read about but never expected to visit in your lifetime. Was Athena serious about taking them there?
“Awesome!” Funny Face squealed in delight. She removed her helmet to reveal the beaming face of Harley Quinn. She grinned exuberantly at Holly. “We both made it!” She sounded like they had just won the grand prize on some bizarre TV reality show. “Are you excited? I’m excited! We’re going to Paradise Island!”
Holly had to admit that it sounded like a dream come true.
Tfte bustling village marketplace, hidden away in rural Mongolia, made Zatanna’s spooky mansion look like Main Street, USA, A packed dirt road led between rows of outdoor stalls hawking all manner of occult artifacts and curios. Paper lanterns glowed brightly in the middle of the afternoon, and wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. Graceful temples and pagodas loomed behind the wooden booths and stands. Silk banners advertised potions and love charms in Mandarin, while the shoppers patronizing the merchants were just as exotic-looking as the wares they were haggling over. A genuine Chinese dragon, complete with a shaggy red mane, prowled the market, but ' Aobody seemed at all alarmed by the beast’s presence. A stooped old woman walked a saber-toothed tiger on a leash, and a glamorous Asian sorceress in a cherry red kimono glided overhead on a cloud. A plant elemental, who could have been Swamp Thing’s skinnier cousin, was composed entirely of twigs and vines, and a slinky fox-woman walked hand in hand with a samurai warrior.
What is this place? Mary thought. Her magic word had restored her powers. She strolled aimlessly through the bizarre bazaar, taking in the sights. And what am I doing here?
“You look lost,” a boyish voice addressed her in English.
Grateful to hear her native tongue, she turned around to see a slight young boy, scarcely past puberty, approaching her. Strangely, he was dressed like a Pilgrim from a Thanksgiving Day pageant. His severe black clothing, white collar, leggings, and buckled shoes looked extremely out of place in the remote Chinese village. His pale blue skin looked as though it rarely felt the touch of the sun, and his dark black hair and pointed ears, which reminded her of Black Adam, put Mary on guard. A
plump ginger-colored cat with a singularly evil-looking expression perched upon the boy’s shoulder. Its slitted green eyes regarded Mary with palpable disdain. “Maybe,” she conceded.
“My name is Klarion,” he volunteered, “and this is Teekl. We’re from Limbo Town, home to the lost population of Roanoke. I’m a Witch Boy.”
“Good for you,” Mary said suspiciously. She remembered hearing about Roanoke in school; the first English colony in the Americas, its inhabitants had vanished mysteriously over five hundred years ago. Guess that explains the Puritan getup, she thought, assuming he’s telling the truth. “I’m Mary Marvel.”
Klarion gestured at the sprawling bazaar around them. His soft voice had retained his ancestors’ British accent. “What are you in the market for, Mary Marvel?”
' I wish I knew, she thought. “To be honest, I just kind of stumbled onto this place.”
That was true enough; ever since getting kicked out of Shadowcrest, she had been flying around the world at random, trying to figure out what to do next. She felt bad about the way things had turned out with Zatanna, but that didn’t change the fact that she still needed to get a handle on her new magical powers. Maybe the Fates had led her to this place for a reason?
“Chung Ling Soo Square is a very insular community,” Klarion observed. He stroked his familiar’s furry head, eliciting a purr in response. “I’m quite surprised no one has tried to kill you yet.”
Maybe they know better than to mess with me, she thought. “I recognized the concealment spell from above, but you’re the first person to speak to me.” She reached out to pet the cat, but backed off when Teekl hissed in warning. Orange hair rose up along the feline’s spine. What a nasty pussycat! “So far I’ve only been cursed at in Mandarin and gotten some real dirty looks.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Klarion nodded as they wandered through the market together. “Clearly you possess some ability in the art of magic; otherwise, you wouldn’t have found this place.”
A trio of ghostly giants, as huge as they were immaterial, stepped over their heads. Enormous bags of bones were slung over their mammoth shoulders. Nobody in the market gave them a second look. Mary watched them slowly fade from sight.
“Let’s just say magic and I are old friends, but I’m in the market for some new tricks.” She decided to lay her cards on the table. “Maybe I’ve come to the right place?” Klarion considered her words. “The problem with magic freely given is that it is never valued as much as that which is gained at a price.”
Was that why things didn’t work with 7/itanna ? Mary wondered. Zee probably took her magic for granted; she couldn’t possibly comprehend how hard it was for Mary "to keep control of Black Adam’s unexpected gift. “I guess that’s what happened with the last person who tried to help me.”
Klarion seemed to understand. “Some rare folks are bom with magic in their blood. Altruistic types are happy to share their abilities, but every other magic user has to barter.”
Like I bartered with Black Adam ? she thought. What did I lose when I gained his power?
They paused in front of a wooden stall hawking jade amulets and bracelets. Charms and incantations were engraved upon the talismans. Laughing children chased a walking corpse through the street behind them as a w'hite-haired wraith floated by.
“What could I possibly barter with anyway?” Mary asked. Intrigued by the magical jewelry on display in the booth, she stepped closer for a better look.
The Witch Boy chuckled slyly. “You’d be surprised what passes for currency around here;*
Swirling strands of ectoplasm issued from his fingertips, trapping Mary inside a glowing sphere. The boulder-sized globe spun about madly: “Hey!” she cried out, tumbling head over heels inside the sphere. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, Mary Marvel,” Klarion said. “And cover your ears.”
“What?” She tried to break free from the translucent sphere, but its constant spinning threw her off balance. Dizzy and disoriented, she bounced clumsily against its walls.
“Your ears!” Klarion called out helpfully. He demonstrated by sticking his fingers into his own ears. Teekl buried his head beneath his paws. “Like this!”
Firecrackers went off loudly. Pyrotechnic green flames blasted the sphere, hurling it into the air away from the booth. Inside the careening prison, Mary was buffeted and tossed about. The noise of the firecrackers drowned out her indignant yelps. Startled shoppers gazed at the spectacle in alarm.
‘There, there, brave Teekl,” Klarion cooed to the agitated feline, who clearly did not approve of the racket. “Everything’s fine!”
An aged Chinese wizard, awash in a flowing emerald robe, dashed out from the endangered stall. Golden dragons were embroidered on his garments. His long white beard flapped in the wind.
“Self-defense!” he shouted to his worried neighbors. “She approached my stall uninvited. Her raw magic disturbed my spells!” Greedy eyes assessed Mary through the shimmering walls of her prison. “I demand compensation!”
“Compensation?” The bouncing globe finally came to a stop upon a stretch of cobblestoned pavement. Regaining her balance, Mary tore her way out of the ectoplasmic sphere, which came apart into shreds of formless vapor. “For nearly nuking me?”
Charging across the street, she grabbed on to the old man by his collar and yanked him off his feet. The snow-white strands of his beard frizzed out from his face as a powerful jolt of mystical lightning shocked him to his bones. His eyes rolled inward until only the whites were visible. A whimper escaped his Ups. Smoke rose from his robes.
“I’ll give you payback, you wretch!” Mary snarled. Klarion tapped her on the shoulder. “Mar}'?”
She glanced back at him in annoyance. “Yes?” “Pardon me for interrupting,” the Witch Boy said, “but I believe he will trouble us no more.”
Huh? Mary turned back toward her victim, who was now trembling helplessly in her grasp. A twinge of guilt pricked her conscience as she realized for the first time just how frail and frightened the old man looked. His bloodless face was as white as a ghost’s. His creased skin was as thin as rice paper. Rheumy eyes pleaded for mercy. Holy Moley, she thought. He’s scared to death of me.
She let go of his collar and the vanquished wizard dropped awkwardly onto the ground. Gathering his singed rohfes around him, he scurried away from her as swiftly as his ancient bones could carry him. So intense was his need to escape that he abandoned his wares without a backward glance, frantic prayers spilling from his mouth.
“Wait!” she blurted, anxious to make amends. “I’m sorry.... I didn’t mean ...”
“Forget him, Mary Marvel,” Klarion urged her. “You have more important things to consider... such as how to thank me for saving your life.”
That got her attention. Whirling around, she confronted the boy and his cat. “And how exactly did you do that"!” “By shielding you within that protective cocoon, of course,” he said, as though that should have been self-evident. “I knew that your interest in those jade trinkets would provoke a hostile reaction.”
“Uh-huh.” Mary knew she was being hustled. “No way. I could have handled that geezer just fine on my own.” Her hands rested confidently upon her hips. “I’m not letting you blackmail me.”
Klarion clutched his chest, as though deeply hurt by her accusation. “You’ll find only charity in my heart, Friend Mary, not malice. All I ask in return for my service
ISSUHTDeWN til
is just the tiniest, barest, most insignificant fraction of your power.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “And what’s in it for me?”
“A simple trade,” he assured her. “For the merest taste of your occult puissance, I’ll help you master the forces that rage within you.”
At least he’s up-front about it, she thought. Unlike Zatanna, who promised me everything, then threw me out the first time I screwed up.
She gave his offer serious thought. Certainly, she still needed help controlling Black Adam’s tainted magic; look at the way she had just blown her top at that old man a few minutes ago. Why not make this deal with Witch Boy here? She had so much magic in her now that she could afford to spare him a spark.
, “All you need do is take my hand,” he explained.
* Okay, Mary thought. She reached out to him until their fingers were less than an inch apart. “Just a touch,” she reminded him.
Klarion wanted more, however. To her surprise, his slender blue fingers stretched like rubber and wrapped themselves around her wrist and upper arm. Latching on to her like leeches, the sinuous digits refused to let her go. Mary felt a sharp stinging sensation. Static electricity crackled beneath the Witch Boy’s hungry fingers.
Teekl hissed in excitement. The cat’s green eyes glowed with demonic glee. Claws extended, he lunged at Mary.
“Yes, Teekl,” Klarion promised the familiar. “You can have her once she’s drained.”
Dammit, Mary thought. I should have known this was a trick! Her temper flared as she knocked Klarion away from her with a vicious backhanded blow to his face. His ductile fingers came loose, tearing away bits of skin beneath her black gloves. Teekl sank his claws into her shoulder, but she yanked the snarling cat from her flesh and flung him after his duplicitous master. The fiendish feline let out a caterwauling screech as it tumbled through the air, finally landing on its feet on the other side of the market.
Mary’s blood boiled. It seemed like everyone was out to backstab her these days. Fine, she thought. I can give as well as I get. Lightning crackled about her, setting nearby banners and paper lanterns aflame. “Okay, Witch Boy! You wanted a drink from the fire hose? You got it!”
But it seemed like the little sneak had had enough. “T-Teekl... ?” he murmured weakly as he lay sprawled upon the pavement. Fresh bruises added a touch of color to his pallid face. He looked about anxiously for his filthy pet, who slunk to his side. The cat’s hackles raised as it glowered back at Mary.
Mary considered eliminating these two once and for all, just to send a message to all the other snakes and liars out there. She was sick and tired of people who thought they could outsmart her.
, Yes, Mary, a familiar voice whispered in her brain. Kill them if you like. They won't be missed.
It took Mary a second to realize that the voice was not her own. “Who said that?”
The one you ’re searching for.
“Right,” Mary said sarcastically. She’d heard that before. “Someone else out to take what’s mine.”
Oh, I’m more like you than anyone. Follow my voice and you ’11 see what I mean.
Mary launched herself into the air. If nothing else, she wanted to find out just who had the nerve to invade her thoughts this way. Her clenched fists tore through the sky. “This better not be another trick.”
Trust me, Mary. You won’t be disappointed.
She left Klarion to deal with the angry merchants below.
“This is a gross violation of your jurisdiction, brother,” the second Monitor declared ominously, “Your intemperate actions, however well-meaning, jeopardize the integrity of the Multiverse.”
Although he obviously belonged to the same alien race, Donna noticed subtle differences between this Monitor and the one who had recruited her and Jason. This Monitor was clean-shaven, for one thing, and instead of comrows, his long black hair was knotted in the back. His futuristic armor looked equally formidable, though, and, like his kinsman, he towered a head or two above the ordinary-sized humanoids populating the park.
“Called it,” Jason gloated. “Didn’t I say this was serious bad news?”
“Shut up,” Donna said. Now was no time to be distracted by juvenile banter. Between the two of them, the godlike Monitors outclassed them all in power. She didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a fight between them. “Nix Uotan!” their own Monitor addressed the newcomer. “You do not belong here either. What business have you interfering in my affairs?”
“You forced our hand, Solomon,” the new Monitor said. “Your reckless travels have not escaped the notice of the rest of our number. The Monitor of this world originally wished to confront you on her own, but we persuaded her that a more unified response was desired. Therefore I have been dispatched by our assembly to present our ruling.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You will surrender yourself to my custody and be returned to the Nexus of Realities, there to stand trial for crimes against the Multiverse.”
“Crimes?” The original Monitor, whose name was apparently Solomon, raised his voice in anger. “Everything I have done has been to save the Multiverse from a universal threat!”
'‘That’s enough, both of you!” Batman strode forward decisively. He snatched a Batarang from his utility belt. “I don’t know which of you aliens is in the right, but this is my city and my world and I want some say in what happens here.” Superwoman, Wonder Woman, and the female Atom formed ranks behind him. “The Justice League is taking charge of this situation right now!”
Nix Uotan glanced at the heroes in annoyance. With a wave of his hand, he teleported them away from the scene. “You see,” he accused Solomon, “you have already disturbed the native inhabitants of this Earth.” He turned his scarlet eyes on Donna and Jason. “Moreover, you have violated Multiversal law by removing these humans from their own Earth and exposing them to realities they were never meant to encounter.”
“No harm was done to Earth-One by extracting these two,” Solomon insisted. “They are both anomalies who should have remained dead in the first place. They were expendable!”
“What the hell?” Jason blurted. “You chose us because we’re supposed to be dead anyway?”
Donna was equally stunned by the Monitor’s revelation. It makes sense, though, she realized in retrospect. If we die on this quest, or never make it back home, then our Earth will simply go back to the way it was before Jason and I returned from our graves. We are expendable—at least from a cosmic point of view.
Not that this made her feel any less used.
“There are larger issues at stake than the disposition of these two humans,” Nix Uotan maintained. “You must surrender to the will of the majority and abandon this forbidden campaign.”
“Never!” Solomon said defiantly. “The End Time that was foretold is fast approaching. Only Ray Palmer can avert the Great Disaster!”
Donna recalled that K’Dessa, the pint-sized oracle of the nanoverse, had said the same thing. So Solomon’s not the only entity subscribing to this theory.
“You are mistaken,” Nix Uotan insisted. “This Palmer being you seek is without significance. Trust me, brother, he lives a life of no consequence.”
Solomon mulled the other Monitor’s words, then shook his head. “That remains to be seen.”
“You will not come willingly?”
“I shall not,” Solomon declared.
Nix Uotan sighed. “Then you leave me no choice.” He stretched out his hand toward the Challengers. His gauntlet hummed loudly as it powered up. Crackling pink energies erupted from his upraised palm.
An identical blast issued from Solomon’s palm, blocking Uotan’s attack. The rival volleys flared brightly as they crashed together between the two Monitors, casting a ruddy pink radiance over the deserted park. Startled pigeons abandoned their roosts and flapped wildly away. “Get back!” Solomon instructed Donna and Jason.
“Not on your life!” Jason charged forward to join the fight, until a sudden shock wave sent both him and Donna tumbling backward across the plaza. Donna winced as she slammed into a metal park bench. Jason splashed down into the fountain. “Then again ...”
The dueling Monitors appeared evenly matched. They faced off against each other, grappling head-to-head as unleashed cosmic energy flashed and sparked all around them. Their faces were contorted from the strain of their combat. The glare was so bright that Donna could barely tell them apart.
“This is futile!” Uotan shouted over the thunderous clash of their battle. “Wherever you flee, we will find you. Give up this madness!”
“What of you?” Solomon challenged him. “Would you kill me to preserve your precious rules?”
“You cannot defy our sacred code with impunity!” Gaining a momentary advantage, Uotan got past Solomon’s defenses. A glowing hand, trailing energy like a comet, smacked Solomon across the face. “We are brothers! We must act as one!”
Solomon staggered backward. “Then we are brothers no more!” He spit a mouthful of blood onto the pavement and raised his palms once more. His gauntlets still seemed to have plenty of juice in them. “Dogma has blinded you all to the peril we face!”
This could go on all night, Donna realized. Launching herself into the fray, she struck Uotan like a missile. Her fists slammed into the other Monitor’s chest, knocking him off his feet. He fired back at her with an energy-blast, but she deflected the bursts with her Amazonian bracelets. “Enough, Solomon!” she shouted at her ally. “Aren’t you the one who is always going on about wasting time in pointless battles?”
“This is not your fight, Donna Troy!” he protested. Donna disagreed. She was still pissed off at the Monitor for callously judging her expendable, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t right about the importance of finding Ray Palmer. “One for all, all for one, Solomon. This is our quest too.”
“Right,” Jason chimed in. Still dripping from his splashdown in the fountain, he drew a Glock from beneath his leather jacket and opened fire on the other Monitor. “Count us in.”
The bullets bounced off Nix Uotan’s personal force field. “Pathetic,” he said as he lumbered to his feet and took aim at the gun-wielding human. “And hopeless!” “Jason!” Donna zoomed toward the Monitor’s target, shoving Jason out of harm’s way only seconds before Uotan’s blast struck the Revolutionary War statue behind him. The marble effigy exploded into a cascade of dust and shards. Pulverized stone rained down on Donna as she shielded Jason with her body.
“Thanks, babe!” he smirked. “I didn’t know you cared.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” she told him.
' Solomon took advantage of the distraction created by Jason to nail Uotan with a powerful blast of his own. The other Monitor slammed into the trunk of a sturdy oak, cracking it in two. The top of the tree crashed down on top of him, momentarily trapping him beneath its weight.
Donna helped Jason to his feet, lifting him as easily as she might a rag doll. She called out to Solomon. “Time to go?”
“Decidedly,” he agreed. He activated the controls on his gauntlet and a shimmering, transparent sphere appeared behind them. A portal opened in the side of the globe and he herded them toward the opening. “Quickly— before my brother recovers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jason sprinted into the sphere with Donna right behind him. “We know the drill.”
Solomon joined them inside the vessel. The portal closed automatically.
“Halt!” Nix Uotan commanded. He heaved the fallen timber to one side and fired at the sphere. “This is futile. You cannot escape us!”
The energy-blast jolted the sphere, throwing its passengers off balance, but the desperate Monitor was too late. Outside the glowing walls of the globe, Earth-15 shimmered and faded like a mirage. Within seconds, the skyline of Gotham City vanished from sight.
Here we go again, Donna thought. She brushed the powdered stone from her star-flecked black leotard. But to where?