Capítulo 18: Issue #16: Synonyms For Righteous Alliance
"What do you mean, it died?"
"It was just a simulation. The conditions for replicating such a delicate procedure in the real world is tough enough, but you saw how volatile the condition of the fetus was, right? She barely made it through the second stage."
I roll my eyes, sighing in exasperation as I lounge like a sloth on the sofa couch. I still can't believe that I've been playing god with Ted Kord so Booster Gold still isn't here and his brain cells aren't rotting from hanging out with that security guard. Here I am resting on my laurels in front of thirteen wounded heroes when the Blue Beetle destroys my hopes and dreams. Bad enough that he did it in front of Batman, but to think Dinah and whose incarnation of Hawkgirl is she?
'She looks Hispanic, but that may be the light working its magic. I'm not racist, am I? No, can't be. I dated many women in my past life.'
Anyway, there I am being star struck and then he says…
"I didn't create a new breed of human being?" I try to keep my voice from sounding desperate in front of my cool new friends, but the moment Ted shakes his head no, my shoulders just evaporate into sludge.
"Do you really think that the work of the gods could be done by mortals? This child of yours is amusing, Batman." Diana snorts in amusement, crossing her arms to prevent the gawking eyes of a certain speedster.
"Enough," Batman, ever so gloom, halts the topic of my marvellous invention. "We went here to recuperate our wounds and discuss the invasion of the alien civilization known as Appalexian."
"You mean lick our wounds 'cause some of ya'll are too arrogant to team-up?" Green Arrow says snarkily as he holds out his hands for a high-five from Black Canary.
The blonde woman, sporting torn mesh stockings and bruised face, merely scoffs at her fellow vigilante's action. Moving a few seats away from him before responding, "Are we going to discuss business with a child in our midst?"
"I'm gonna be nine in, like, two months," I argue, glaring at Dinah with a barely hidden blush on my face.
"Sparrow, take a room down the corridor and leave us to our conversation." Batman orders.
I would have obeyed under any circumstance, but I really want to be here when they form the team. In fact, I NEED to be here since I'm going to be a member in about ten years. Even the Justice League could use someone who could teleport the entire team over kilometers, which I could do if I train it hard enough.
"Oh, please. The only discussion you will have is the formation of an organization that could respond to threats either outside of your domain and areas of operation or, more probably, over the scope of your somewhat limited capabilities," My argument seems to stun them, but I'm not finished yet.
I stand from my seat, turning around the room and looking at every hero's eyes for a moment. "Excluding me from this discourse due to my biological development in linear chronology not only undermines the core values of half of the superheroes within this room, but also introduces an abject ignorance on all of your parts."
I lock eyes with a virulently disfigured but slowly healing Superman, then to a masked woman with eagle-like wings on her back before returning to Flash's jittery form.
"Ignoring the obvious consequences of time dilation during one of Flash's speed battles, do you guys know what happens when someone travels back and forth from the future? No one knows, except for him!" I point at Flash, whose identity I still do not know. It's either Wally or Barry. I hope it's Wally. "And he's not giving away his secrets."
"Are you done?" Batman interjected, visibly rolling his eyes even though it's hidden behind the lenses of his mask.
"No, just one more." I hold up a finger and clear my throat. "My fellow citizens, I propose to you this: Any entity with as much power as the organization that you will hold would find themselves at the crossroads of ethical and moral dilemma. Would you allow a teenager that could hold the form of an adult man for vast amounts of time the same voice as you? What about me? What if I was a senile old man that was given a gift of rejuvenation? What if I'm a shapeshifter that could become anyone? The process of reincarnation might be mythical to some… but that doesn't mean it does not exist. Would the gods not offer a second chance to those they deemed worthy? Had they not given the gift of eternal life to a tribe of warriors?
Today, you might hold me with disregard, so does my opinion, no matter how intelligent and wise it is. But tomorrow… Tomorrow or someday, I could be equal to you. Then, the next… you could be dying or useless or just plain old. And do you know what I would do to you the moment I hold more power than you?"
There's a tinge of regret in my voice the moment I ask the last question. It was just supposed to be a charismatic speech regarding my rights as a future superhero, but, damn me, I just threatened thirteen men and women who could flip me like a pancake.
Batman sighs. "Anything else?"
I purse my lips and give them a chuckle. "I'll be, uh, the room on the corner?"
"Yes." He replies, shooing me off before the others could slaughter me.
I quickly left the room lest Green Arrow shoot me in the back because I argued with his girlfriend. Although I don't know if he were the type to do that, it's best to be cautious around these non-metahuman hero types. They're the craziest ones.
As I traverse the brightly lit metal walls, the echoes of light laughter, arguments, and Batman grunting ricochets into my ears. I quickly find the room, but there's no handle on it.
I just hold out my hands and speak into the door, "Enter Sparrow! Open! Access–Oh, there we go."
[Access Granted]
A monotone voice rings out of the screen panel that pops out in the middle of the door before the door splits in half, revealing a well-furnished game room of some kind.
A row of arcade machines spitting out colorful lights and catchphrases that might have been cool in the 80s, but sounds inane in this modern world. Two large tables sit in the center, a foosball table and an air hockey machine, both of which need two people to operate. Then there's the series of machines that let you throw balls–either basketballs or small skee-balls–which just sounds exhaustingly masculine for my taste.
What is more interesting to me is the bar on the left corner, filled with neon lights, a sandwich line with ten different kinds of cheese and top-shelf liquor that I can't seem to reach.
I scoff at the ageist intolerance in this facility. "Uh, Can I get a drink around here?"
[Access Denied]
"Are you serious?!" Stowing the anger in my heart from the blatant discrimination, I turn my attention to the sandwich line and begin my attempt at devouring bread, vegetable, meat, and condiments. Sometimes together, often one at a time.
As I sit down and enjoy my sandwich, my mind rumbles towards the battle with Mr. Freeze.
'I've already forgiven myself for missing the hints laid out during the mission. All from Samantha's credentials, the video of her current work, and even the duo that was handing out her photograph. Batman would have figured it out on the first clue, but I guess being trained by Batman for a few months is not at all being Batman.
What matters most is the ability to learn from past mistakes. That is the essence of being a superhero. Well, that and having a cool costume. Jesus, Jake's right; I gotta get my priorities straight.'
"What do I want to do in my life?" I ask myself. "The people out there, they risk their lives to protect the powerless, save the defenseless. For what? Some for the ego, but most of them–the greatest of them–do it for the love of the game. I guess my short-term goal for the moment is to become strong enough to keep my mother safe."
'To do that, I need to include my portal powers in my training regimen. I already have four hours of morning physical training followed by an afternoon of mental gymnastics which, frankly, takes more toll on me than the physical regimen. Still, with my growth capability, I would imagine surpassing Jack's personal record within a couple of years and actually be able to teleport the League within vast amounts of distances. Granted, of course, that I master the manual creation of the portals.'
"No, Edmund. First, master the portal like it's second nature and increase my energy capacity. I'll tackle the manual creation after I can create portals without vomiting my entire lunch." I vow to myself.
'Now that I think about it, wouldn't my powers be useful for many things other than superhero stuff? This world is as advanced as it goes and still has world hunger due to travel constraints. Of course, the greedy men that control a large portion of those resources are the main problem. If I could teleport financial and food aids to hard-to-reach or even deadly areas, then it would be worth it to suffer for a few more years by cramming up my days with training. The only problem with that line of thinking is that I would be politically and financially free to do so. God knows I still shudder at what happened to the Justice Society of America when they went against Ronald Reagan.'
Gradually, a plan begins to form in my mind. A short-term one that would enable me to train my portal generation without risking falling off Batman's quota for growth whilst also making way for a fallback once I decide that becoming a hero isn't my chosen profession.
"Uh, hello. Can I have a notebook and pen, please?" I yell out to whomever is running the automated system around the room.
[Command Confirmed]
The voice rings out once more before a sucking sound emits behind me. On the far end of the counter–where a pipe tube with an open mouth is located–is a sharpened pencil inside of a rolled-up notepad.
"Well, that's cool." I take it out and begin writing, stopping for a moment to thank the system. It did not reply, however.
Writing non-stop for a few hours took a lot out of me, but the forthcoming sandwiches and drinks and resting for a few minutes as I played with the surprisingly fun arcade machines, really helped me create well-thought out–but still naively simple–plans for both of my wishes.
My hands only halted its continuous verbose actions when the doors to the room split open and revealed a familiar green entity, a half-naked one at that.
"Uh, can I help you?" I ask before I purse my lips as I barely contain my chuckle.
The green entity tilts their head in contemplation before voicing out their thought in a deep, bassy voice that reverberates in my head.
"It appears that I have entered an incorrect chamber."
"Pretty much," I nod with a pursed smile. "I think you're looking for the room with the other heroes? It's further down."
Their head tilts once again, inky black eyes boring into mine. I suddenly feel lightheaded, like I've been drinking far too much orange juice. My hair feels itchy which is weird since I've been using far too much shampoo ever since I got lice from those fucking second-graders.
"Uh, is, uh, is there anything else I can do for you?" I ask as I sit back down and rest my head on the couch.
"No. I apologize for disturbing you." The moment he said that, the itchiness and lightheadedness disappeared.
I shake off the dizziness running through my eyes and head before standing back up with a glare.
"What the fuck did you just do?" I roar.
'That green motherfucker must have been probing me because, and believe me, I would fucking die before I get lice again.'
My eyes squinted into a glare as what I assume to be Martian Manhunter looks back at me with curiosity.
"Peculiar." He says. "Not only did you block my sub-surface probe, you also detected it."
'Oh, I'm angry now.'
In a moment of impulse decision, something clicks within my mind as Martian Manhunter just stands there in the middle of the doorframe like he just didn't violate a dozen international and intergalactic laws.
I swing my fist downwards and, instead of it hitting the glass coffee table below, I open a small portal on the table's surface, which lets my fist pass through. A secondary portal appeared to Martian Manhunter's right-hand side next to his oblong-shaped head.
My fist appears out of the secondary portal and hit him square in the cheeks before he could even get the surprise at having shown my powers out of his system. The fist disappears as fast as I made it appear, alongside the two portals I made for it.
Martian Manhunter wavers off kilter for a brief moment. Yet for all the strength that I placed in my punch, none of it could even make him move from his feet.
'Damn. I forgot he was a detective or something in his Martian clan.'
A purple bruising appears on the broken cheek I punched, but when he fixes the bones on that cheek, the bruise disappears. His inhuman regeneration is sure to be a boon in the battlefield.
'That must be why Batman and Superman rate him greatly and even allow him to be their in-house guardian and investigator.'
He looks at me with a slightly different gaze before lightly bowing his head and saying, "I apologize for the probing. My curiosity has gotten the better of me, it appears. But with your quick temper and great tactical mind, you must be a disciple of the Bat-Man?"
"It's 'Batman', there's no pause in the middle," I correct as I nod at his assumption. "But, yeah, I am Batman's BEST disciple."
He tilts his head again, reminding me of a cat I used to have. "Don't the Batman have another disciple who is older–"
"Nah, don't worry about him. In fact," I grab my last uneaten sandwich, run towards him, and extend the sandwich towards him. "When you're speaking to Batman, tell him how awesome I am and that I am, in fact, his best disciple. Now and in the future."
Martian Manhunter narrows his eyes, but nevertheless accepts my food. "Is this what they call… bribery?"
"What? Noooooo…" I shake my head vigorously. Like hell would I let myself be in trouble because start teaching the damn alien about unethical Earthly custom. "This… is what we call… the start of a new friendship!"
I try to block my mind in an attempt to hide the thoughts springing out like wildfire. I comfort myself in the knowledge that I would be misinforming him about Earth customs while currying favor safely because my existence hangs in the precarious balance with ten other souls.
To my surprise, he smiles as he takes a bite of the sandwich. He didn't like it–as evident by the grimace on his face–but he nevertheless accepted my offer.
"To… new friendships." He says, more to himself than to me.
"I could take it back if you don't want it. It's more of a symbol, anyway." He gives it back to me a touch too fast to my liking. "Is it really that bad?"
"I could taste every molecule in that sandwich." His reply surprises me.
I chuckle at the thought of tasting actual carbohydrate. "Well, like I said, down the hall and to the left."
He leaves me to my devices, walking down the hall like he was gliding through it. It surprised me how hospitable and congenial he was. As if he's a man who carried great sins and is atoning for those who have sinned against him.
'Oh, my god. Is he the Martian Messiah? Is that why he's so damn powerful?'
I rid myself of my blasphemous thoughts and return to what I was doing before the interruption. But, before that, I finish my sandwich and make another one because creating that portal with that quickness places quite a strain on my gullet.
Martian Manhunter.
That is the name I have co-opted from my clan's long lineage to signify my oath to Earth, Mars, and the universe at large. To help the defenseless and protect my new home, that is my duty and my purpose.
For the past decade, I have shifted from one form to another in a vain attempt to hide myself from the world's authorities and its underbelly whenever my duty beckons me.
But my years in hiding beneath the shadows have hardened me. When I should have been saving these people, I was unmoving in fear of retaliation from being seen. I have been too cavalier with their lives that I, too, was unmoving when the Appalexians came into my doorsteps.
As I entered the room where the mightiest and bravest people of Earth have gathered, I could not help but look at the man who brought me out of the shadows and into the light.
The Batman. Not the Bat-Man, apparently.
He was the one who helped me realize my full potential. He gave me what the Earthlings called a 'pep-talk' and aided me in fighting the giant bird of the Appalexians.
"I apologize for my tardiness." I say when they're eyes turn to me.
"That's fine, J'onn." Batman nods at me before turning towards the rest. "This man is a martian named J'onn J'onzz. He was the one who told me of the alien civilization that invaded us and the one who helped me figure out how to defeat him."
A chorus of nods and murmurs of compliments runs through the crowd before an enormous male human walks up to me and tries to shake my hand. He is wearing tight blue pants and a red cape with a symbol on his torso.
'My neighbors are fond of him and I believe he is called… Superman?'
"I'd like to thank you personally, J'onn." He says as he shakes my hand. "Without you, many lives could not have been saved."
I reply with a light bow, "It is my duty and pleasure to do so."
The Batman clears his throat, clearly impatient in continuing the meeting. "Now that we've all met. Let us discuss the primary topic we have all gathered for: the creation of a new extra-national superpowered group, one that will go beyond the scope of the Justice Society and provide relief and help to those around the globe."
A man in a red suit with a yellow lightning bolt in his chest speaks up, "Are we going to be called JSA again? Because that name sucks and is kinda jingoistic."
Superman shakes his head. "Of course not. What are we calling ourselves, Batman?"
He clicks on something in his wrist and a hologram pops out of the signage of our new group.
'The Justice League.'
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