บท 19: Issue #17: Homecoming
"Name?"
"Rachel Caspian." I answer.
"Business or pleasure, Miss Caspian?"
"I'm a US citizen." I correct.
"I can see here that you're a dual citizen?," The man boredly gaze at me, briefly stopping by my cleavage before looking me in the eye.
"Yes."
The man scoffs lightly, "Welcome to Gotham, I suppose."
He gives me back my passport and ticket, allowing me to disembark the ship that I had the utmost pleasure of boarding these last few days. There sure were a lot of mean-looking people on board, many of whom were quite errant in regard to proper social protocols.
At least they didn't touch me, I reason to myself, even though they won't hear me. If it were not for my father being there with me, I fear that they would do something to me.
"Are you alright, dear?" Father's voice brings me back from my musings. His hands gently grasp my shoulders, allowing me a steady foothold in such a turbulent city. "Are you sure you wish–"
"My decision is final, Father." I interject unhappily. "This is what mother would have wanted."
My words bring a sense of dismay and pride in his face before being replaced by what I only assume to be lingering sorrow. It seems stepping a foot in this city, even through its harbor, will bring about long repressed feelings.
We descend the gangplank and weave through the crowd of tourists, family members, and a few odd-looking men in all-black outfits. Gotham's premier harbor might have been one of the largest in the east coast, but when half of that space is under reconstruction, it feels like I'm pushing through a tightly packed concert venue. Thankfully, port authorities soon arrive and guide people out of our way, allowing us, and those who are also in the VIP section of the ship, to head straight past the throng of people.
The smell of the city quickly pervades my senses as soon as we enter the lounge area near the side of the harbor, where chauffeurs and servants of every kind would meet their bosses. I sit at the edge of one row of metal chairs, my only luggage neatly placed atop my lap.
"It's been a long time since we were in Gotham, haven't we, Father?" I ask, absentmindedly.
"That we do." He replies before raising his hands. "Looks like our ride is here. Augbert, here!"
I look back and, sure enough, a gangly man of no more than thirty-years-old appears in my sight. Wearing a brown suede jacket and bonnet that smartly covers his balding hair, Augbert Florentine waves at us with a flowering smile. I, too, wave at him. It has been a long time since I saw my oldest friend. As such, the moment he nears us, my body moves on its own and bathes him in a warm embrace.
"I missed you, Augie!" I say, giggling at his ever so unpleasant cologne.
"Oh, golly, Rachel! We're not kids anymore, you know. It's Augbert now." He corrects me, but inevitably leans in on the embrace. "I missed you, too."
I remove myself from him and Father swoops in with a light hug and a pat on the back, a proud smile on his face.
"Look at you. You're a man, now." He remarks, cupping the side of Augie's beard with a fatherly smile. "Yet you still dress like a teenager."
Augie blushes and quickly grabs our luggage even though Father tells him not to. He leads us out of the building and into the slightly cold rays of the afternoon sun. I had forgotten that Gotham weather is extreme, to the point that a month into winter, all the lakes and ponds will freeze shut. Thankfully, Augie has parked his car a stone's throw away from the building and entered before we froze to death. I exaggerate, of course, but with what's happening in our world, being frozen to death in the afternoon sun might not be the dream it once was a decade ago.
Augie is hiding it, but he is quick to drive us out of the city proper. Taking a few tight turns while maintaining a soliloquy filled with anecdotes about what had transpired within the city in the past twenty years, even slightly annoying us with his fanfare regarding this masked vigilante they like to call "Batman".
"It seems nothing much changed after we left," Father remarks, earning a scoff-filled agreement from Augie. "How is the house, Augbert? I hope you haven't found my, uh, sex dungeon yet?"
"Father!" I admonish with a gasp.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," He says to me, but gives Augie a snickering smirk.
Augie bellows in laughter at my father's joke, however. "I'll try to find it later. But, uh, yeah. Real comfy in the winter and, oh, I've raised a few pheasants for Thanksgiving. You guys will love living there again."
I give Father a stink eye as he has yet to tell Augie of our real purpose here.
Father sighs, "I told you, son. It's your house now. You've been taking care of it for years. You know about it more than I do at this point."
Augie blushes, earning a delighted chuckle from me. "Aren't you here to stay? I thought…"
"Father's just here to see me off," I inform him. "I'm going to join the Sisters of Mercy Order."
"You're going to be a nun, you?" Augie laughs at my words. "C'mon, now. Sir Judson?"
Father shrugs his shoulder and gives him an exasperated sigh, "I'm afraid it's true. After what happened, I didn't want to return, but…"
Father looks at me with longing and love in his eyes before shaking his head. "I suppose after she gets ordained, I'll be traveling the world."
"You just want to get away from the city," I remark unintentionally. "I-I'm sorry–"
"It's alright, dear." Father shrugs his shoulder as his gaze turns towards the passing view of a man being assaulted by hoodlums in an alley in broad daylight. "I suppose it's true."
The rest of the drive is filled with silence as both of us view the happening of the city. The city that had once deprived us of what we loved the most, a city that owed us everything.
Much as I suppress it within the recess of my heart. I hate Gotham.
•••
*Edmund Serana (POV)*
The formation of the Justice League created not much fanfare in the eyes of its members, which surprises me, because they were basically creating the single greatest enforcement agency on Earth. Incorruptible in the face of its citizens, unpliable in the face of its adversary, relentless in the pursuit of justice, and indomitable even against the greatest threats in the Multiverse.
Such is the Justice League, yet, here they are, on a cook-out in the middle of winter in one of the coldest cities in the country: Happy Harbor.
Not that I mind having burgers placed on a platter atop a bed of crisp-cut fries and served by the girlfriend of one of the world's fastest men–whom I incorrectly guessed as Wally West–while he's out for a beer run.
"Thanks, ma'am–Miss!" I say, correcting myself when she teasingly glares at me. I enjoy the patty before voicing out a question, "So, you know who he is in real life, right?"
Iris grins at me, "Are you sure that's your question? I bet you're aching to hear the story about how I found out his secret identity?"
"I'd rather not. And yes, it's in fear of it becoming a gross story." I say mirthfully. "But, I mean, it must be hard… keeping his identity a secret. How do you not get emotionally involved when he's battling other people or just out there literally seconds away from extreme danger?"
She thinks for a second, unconsciously flipping the burger. "It's hard… seeing him fight like that. Especially during the earlier days; god, those times were like the wild west. But it's especially hard for someone like me–I'm a reporter, you see–and that job allows me to be one of the first people on the scene. I don't have any information besides the Flash being in another fight and you're worried about him and you wanna jump in there and see if he's alright or, god forbid, even alive. At the same time, there's this professionalism in you've been honing for decades now and you don't want to disappoint yourself. Do you get me?"
"I-I do. I do." Nodding my head in a rush to assent before a blush creeps up her face as she realizes that she was ranting her heart out to a boy no older than her nephew. "Would you say that your life became better once you knew that the guy you love is a superhero?"
This time, Iris didn't need a few seconds to answer as she whips up her hand and showcases a beautiful diamond ring with a smirk. "I'd say even better."
A smile stretches my cheeks as I offer my congratulations before Hawkgirl bashfully interrupts our conversation. Her helmet is still stuck to her face as she whispers for more red meat from the reporter.
"Hello, ma'am." I greet her as she passes by me. "Sorry about threatening you guys earlier."
She stops in her tracks and gazes at me with amusement in her amber eyes. "A threat only works if you have a card on the table. Tell me… is your table empty?"
"I doubt anything I put on the table would be beneficial for you, ma'am. Respectfully." I shrug my shoulders.
"I see. Why don't you try me, then?" Her steely gaze makes me uncomfortable before she expands her wings to cover me in my chair. Her golden cumberbund-cum-brief and knee-length golden boots are my only source of light.
"Are you wearing that cumberbund so that you won't get stabbed in the stomach again, princess?" I ask, mockingly pouting my lips.
For a moment, I would have thought her hands would be wrapping around my neck, but before I knew it, she had furled her wings with an exasperated laughter. She sets her plate on the plastic table beside her and kneels down to my level, eyes set with jealousy and wisdom.
"You've been snooping around your mentor's database, haven't you?" She asks teasingly.
"Maybe…" I tilt my head as I answer vaguely.
She stalks forwards and brings a hand under my head, ruffling my hair. "Curiosity is a mark of a wonderful hero, but one wrong curious move is all it takes for a wonderful hero to be a dead hero. Remember that, child. Also…"
She leans in real close, so much so that I could smell the onion in her breath and the tip of her chrome helm touches my temple. "Don't ever mention what you know aloud. Clear?"
"Crystal." I respond, which stops her ruffling of my hair.
I turn towards Iris as Hawkgirl descends the beach and cannot help but ask, "Aren't your journalistic blood just giggling at the thought of all these heroes sitting on a beach, playing in the waves? I mean, that's Doctor Fate, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Firestorm, and that right there is Superman who is freaking catching fastballs with Mr. Terrific! I thought that guy was retired."
"He is." She says, "But with the current generation of heroes building a foundational organization… I think Fate and Terrific are here to test them out. It's a shame Starman is gone. God, I used to have a poster of him when I was in highschool."
"Dude!" I exclaim, "My mom, too. Did you know that he signs his autograph with his staff?"
Iris gasps, "I didn't and now I'm mad that I don't have one."
"But who would think that the Arrow guys would be such dorks?" I say aloud, chuckling as I pound on my third burger.
"We heard you for the first time, asshat!" The blonde sidekick of Green Arrow yells from afar.
'You know, I really like that guy.'
I snort before crumpling my paper plate and teleporting it atop his head like a fastball. It hits him square in the face and, when the tide reaches his legs, the unsteadiness of his feet makes him stumble face-first onto the beach.
He tries to look around for whomever hit him in the face, but my portal's already gone. The only evidence of its creation is my spent energy and the wave of giggles that's running through the people at the party.
'God, now I'm hungry again.'
"I know it was you, you brat!" Speedy yells with reckless abandon as he tries to rush towards me, but another wave knocks him off his feet again.
Before I could implicate myself in a rivalry, however, Batman suddenly looms over me with a glare in his eyes and a hotdog in his hands.
"Enjoying yourself?" He asks, his shadow overlapping with the sun.
"Kinda." I reply with a shrug. "Miss my home, though. It's never this hot in Gotham."
"Well, you're in luck." He says, "We're going home."
I look at him with a quizzical eye. "Why?"
The answer came not from Batman, but from my phone as waves of notification hit me at the same time, buzzing like a firefly and asking for my attention.
I didn't need to know the rest because the headline on the first news organization informs me of the situation.
[The Return Of The Reaper: The Unholy Crusade Of Gotham's First Vigilante Has Resumed. Who Is Safe From His Scythes?]
Despite my limited knowledge about the minor details of every superhero's life, including someone as famous as Batman, it's evident to me how terrifying our new enemy truly is. The mere mention of his name even prompted Batman to abruptly end our vacation and celebration.
I give him a nod, finishing my meal, thanking Iris for cooking a delightful meal, saying my goodbyes to my new friends, avoiding the more-vengeful heroes who I threatened a day ago, and packing my bag which contains two briefs, two pairs of sorts, three shirts, and one necktie for the black suit my mom made Olgar bring when he made his way here for treatment. On my way out, luggage rolling behind me, I come upon Martian Manhunter strolling through the metal halls of what I now know to be the Justice League's Headquarters, formerly owned by Kord Industries and gifted to enrich the scope of their work and facilitate the demands of the League.
It was a pure business chess move by one of the world's smartest men, but I gotta say; 'I like him.'
I greet him with a wave, "Afternoon, J'onn–Oh, sorry. Should I call you Martian Manhunter or…"
"J'onn is fine, friend. Please, let us walk and…talk." He says with a soft smile.
'He might really be the Martian Messiah.'
"I have heard from the Batman that you are leaving?" He asks, feeling the breeze coming from the open hole further out.
"Uh, yeah. Serial killer on the loose. Plus, I've been putting off my training for almost a week now, so…" I say, walking along the corridors with a lean, mean green alien.
He looks hesitant for a moment before calming himself and speaking, "Before you leave, I must confess that… your soul is better than most humans I have seen."
Of course, he would know about that. J'onn is actually one of the few guys I was thinking of going to for help if and when the blood ritual's side-effects act up or if one of the souls inside of me begins to unravel.
'Not that I doubt Zatara's expertise on the matter. The guy just reeks of overconfident existentialism.'
I nod at his words. "Yeah. I was, uh, involved in a blood ritual and they put like ten metahuman souls inside of my body. So, my soul's like ten times bigger than my physical body."
J'onn contemplates my words and, for a moment, only the sounds of our footsteps echo the halls.
He gives a mournful sigh, "That is now what I meant."
His words give me pause. "What DO you mean?"
He gazes at me with a warm light and alternating jaw as if he's chewing on the right words to say to me. "You are a burdened soul, young one. A soul with no purpose, no conviction, but your own. It is not up to me to decide if you will be a good soul or a bad soul, but know that whatever you decide, you will not do it alone."
His next words actually give me pause, my steps halting at once. There's something in that speech that resonated deep within me, but, for the love of Me, I cannot figure out why.
'It seems like a fairly cliched speech, so why?'
I feel something welling up inside of me as a tear appears on my left eye, rolling down my cheeks. I try to wipe it away, but my chest tightens and my breathing becomes hard.
The last I see in my peripheral vision is J'onn looking at me with pity in his eyes. The darkness overtook my eyes once more, allowing me in its embrace.
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