Chương 1139: 37
Disclaimer: I do not own DC. I just wrote one of these for the last chapter, so I'm tapped out for entertaining (subjectively speaking) remarks. Let's get on with it!
*A chapter was released less than 12 hours before this one, so take note of that if you're getting notifications for this one, but somehow missed that one.*
Chapter 37: Running The Gauntlet
Cheshire was just going to be allowed to leave - right out of the door, even after what she had done to screw the Secret Six over just to save her own skin. Using an unborn child as leverage to ensure she wouldn't be molested on her way out.
"Goodbye, Thomas," Cheshire bid her farewell, holding her neck from where Deadshot had threatened her, "If I make it long enough to conceive, I'll tell her about you."
And that was it. Just like that she was gone. And they were stuck in the fire, no support, down one combatant on their side.
Deadshot sighed. This was worse than a mission for the Suicide Squad, "Alright, everyone split up. We won't win this one, but maybe we can make some interesting stains on the carpet."
Null cracked his knuckles and started heading for the main entrance of the mansion, "Fine. I'll take the front door. Hope they send all the cannon fodder through that way."
Scandal fell in step with him, "I'll go with you. I can at least start there and assess the situation."
Deadshot and Catman headed elsewhere in the house, while Rag Doll went to find a good place to get a drop on approaching enemies. There were no utterings of things like 'good luck', or 'see you on the other side'. Not a single one of them thought they had a chance at victory.
Instead of despairing thoughts, Null decided to focus on something else a little cheerier.
"'Goodbye, Thomas. If I make it long enough to conceive, I'll tell her about you.' Ooh, now we're assuming the baby's gender," He said, mocking Cheshire, "Tch. I wouldn't count on that conception if I were Catman."
"Why not?" Scandal found herself curious enough to ask. Cheshire was perfectly healthy, and Scandal doubted she would do much to intentionally put herself in harm's way after this.
Null smirked at her and pulled his hood over his head, "I wouldn't count on it because Deathstroke is outside."
"So what?"
"So, I said I'd take the front for a reason," Null said, remaining somewhat cryptic, "Because I wanted to make sure I got to see what happens next."
XxX
Cheshire couldn't help but smile. She had made it out of Mockingbird's little war game in one piece, and she had managed to stick it to the bastard at the same time. Him, that annoying brat Null, that uptight bitch Scandal, and that boorish grunt Deadshot.
Granted, she didn't have anything against Rag Doll, and Catman had been a spectacular lay, but sacrifices had to be made for the sake of keeping oneself in the driver's seat. All for one was a saying, wasn't it?
Cheshire threw open the front doors of the House of Secrets, calling out loudly, her hands up, "I'm coming out! I am unarmed!" She exclaimed, lest a jumpy villain attempt to take her out, "I'm one of you! I am un-!"
*BANG!*
A distant shot rang out that hit Cheshire center mass. She flew back and fell to the ground with a solid thud.
From his vantage point, Deathstroke peered at his handiwork through the scope of his rifle. Though Cheshire had been the reason they'd found the Secret Six to begin with, it would be foolish to trust her after she'd just proven the depths of her treachery.
"Sorry, Cheshire," Deathstroke said, the barrel of his gun still smoking, "We don't need any traitors in The Society."
XxX
Despite the looming threat of death, Null couldn't help but get his eight chuckles off of watching Cheshire go down. The doors had still been open when the shots were fired. It was worth meeting the enemy first just to get a front row view of what he knew was going to happen.
Was it something to worry about that he found delight in watching a person get shot in the chest? Maybe. Then again, it was a terrible person that had treated him poorly from the moment they'd met.
Continuing to laugh, Null wiped a tear away from his eye, "Oh, that was way more satisfying than it should have been!"
Even Scandal had to block her own peal of laughter with a sharp, dignified breath through her nose, "How did you know they would-?"
"I did everything right, and Deathstroke still shot me for disobeying half of an order," Null told her, "There's no way he was gonna let a traitor anywhere near working with him, even if they helped him in the first place."
It was probably for the best as well that Catman didn't see it.
As cathartic as that moment was for them, it was just a moment, and it didn't solve their problem. The doors being thrown wide open, and Cheshire being dropped immediately afterwards was the cue for the battle to begin. The hordes charged forth, set on taking the lives of all five individuals inside.
Scandal brandished the Lamentation Blades of her gauntlets, prepared to jump down the stairs and tear into their enemies. She would have rushed to meet them, had it not been for Null temporarily barring her path with his arm, "They're coming."
"I know," Null said, forming a Static Rocket in his hand. He was laser-focused on the villains charging their position, "Let me scatter them out first."
Several Society villains charged, wielding their respective weapons or superpowers. But Null stood his ground. Running wouldn't do him any good tonight, and there was no place to hide. He had to fight and do the best he could. That meant leading with his best foot forward.
He needed a weak link, and he needed to hit them hard to set the tone, "Alright, who's it gonna be... who's it gonna be..." Eventually, his attention rested on one criminal trying to use another of his comrades as a human shield, "...Yeah. There's my bitch."
On the other side of the line, one of the attackers had his own thoughts in particular.
Amos Fortune was no combatant. Middle-aged, dressed in white, occult robes, his specialties were luck-based magic and gadgetry.
Direct fighting wasn't his forte, but he needed to earn some much-needed credibility to rehab his image. The game had passed him by years ago. However, the chance to pile on to a mission full of villains and take some of the credit for wiping out an enemy of The Society was too juicy a carrot to be left dangling in front of him.
When he was ordered to go through the front, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. No amount of luck magic was going to change Knockout's mind on that, and no one on his side was going to help protect him. He had to do it himself. So, he picked the largest, dumbest individual on his side he could find - the massive, usually passive, Arkham Asylum escapee, Humphry Dumpler, or as he was otherwise known, Humpty Dumpty.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. But Humpty Dumpty wasn't the quickest. That didn't seem to be a problem at the time, as who wanted to be the first one through the breach? But that was until, through the doors to the mansion, he made eye contact with the boy at the top of the stairs, holding a ball of crackling electricity.
The boy looked right at him, then pointed at him. He felt a stray jolt go through him, as though he'd just been shocked by static electricity, and that was when the ball in the boy's hand flew at him like a rocket.
There were certain things that luck didn't matter against.
*BOOM!*
Null felt a sense of satisfaction when his Static Rocket exploded at the doorway, just as Humpty Dumpty tried to fit through. His size had been a problem in trapping a few of the attacking villains behind him as they tried to enter. A better target, he couldn't have asked for.
It hadn't wiped the army against them out, only killing or maiming four or five, but it had dazed just about everyone who had been lagging behind.
Null and Scandal looked at each other and nodded before the former jumped down the length of the stairs, over the heads of ascending villains. Two villains broke off before reaching the stairs and began to pursue him down a side hallway.
Scandal ran down the conventional way and started slashing away at anyone within reach.
The acrobat sisters of Double Dare were the first unfortunate victims. Athleticism aside, they were unarmed, and far inferior fighters than Scandal. Null's opening attack had slowed down their backup, giving her ample opportunity to focus on them alone.
It didn't take long. Given that they weren't much for heavy combat, when Scandal cut a chunk out of them, they fell and crawled away, wanting no more part of her.
Before Scandal could pounce on them both, her blades were stopped by a sword.
Looking up from the end of the blade to the person holding it, Scandal found herself face-to-face with Talia al Ghul, "I guess I have to thank the boy for helping to thin the field. I'd hoped to find you alone, after all."
"Talia," Scandal said, knowing who she was dealing with.
Talia smirked and shifted her sword, transitioning to attack. Scandal moved with the change and defended, using both of her gauntlets.
"The daughter of Ra's al Ghul and the daughter of Vandal Savage. There is an elegance to this," Talia said as the two clashed, "Let the others scrabble in the dirt. Let us duel, as the royalty we are, in honor of our fathers."
XxX
Working to defend the mansion was one thing for those who could fight. But for someone like Rag Doll, he had to pick his spots and find his openings if he wanted to survive.
They still had some leftover explosives from the mission in Brazil. It was his plan to set charges and then bait whoever he could into booby trapped areas. The moment the first explosion sounded out through the halls and the attack began, Rag Doll cursed inside of his head. He hadn't covered all of the ground he wanted to, and he was out in the open.
This became a problem when a massive pair of hands tore into the roof and pulled the ceiling open. Looking down through the opening, an auburn-haired, green-eyed woman in a leopard-skinned bikini peered down at him.
Rag Doll froze in place, '...I wonder if her vision is dependent on motion?'
It was not.
"Bug," Giganta said, glaring down at Rag Doll, "You look just like a BUG!"
She brought her fist down in an attempt to crush him like the insect he resembled to her, but Rag Doll started moving the moment she did, and dove through a door into an adjacent room to temporary safety.
'Temporary', as in his action managed to buy him a handful of seconds.
"Hur-hur... you walked into wrong room."
Tattered suit, white hair, graying flesh and yellow teeth on a massive, hulking frame. Yes, any room with Solomon Grundy could be considered the wrong room to be in.
"Oh, good heavens," Rag Doll proclaimed to himself as Grundy reached out for him.
XxX
Despite trying to beat Deadshot to a pulp and threatening to kill him only a matter of minutes before, Catman fought almost back-to-back with him against a slew of enemies that approached them from both ends of the same hallway.
There was an old adage about cornering a wild animal that should have been kept in mind upon their approach. Even with the disadvantage, the two defenders kept their heads and stuck with a simple approach.
Deadshot would keep the more dangerous enemies at a distance. Anyone who got within arm's reach belonged to Catman.
Holding onto one man by the throat, Catman kicked away another before slamming the first into a wall hard enough to knock him out cold.
Meanwhile, Deadshot unloaded five magnum rounds from his wrist-mounted guns into a man in a hornet costume. As he watched the hapless foe drop to the ground, the sound of music filled his ears, prompting him to turn around.
A woman with long, dark hair, wearing a slinky black dress and a black jewel in her forehead stood playing a very familiar-looking violin. Deadshot never forgot the appearance of a signature weapon, be it an enemy's or a friend's.
"That's Bowen's strad," Deadshot observed. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd put a bullet in the instrument's former wielder. Right before they picked up Null to replace him, as a matter of fact, "What are you, the new Fiddler?"
The woman smirked, her eyes narrowing on Deadshot, "No. So much more. Call me Virtuoso," Her skilled hands began to drag the bow of the violin across the strings.
Her playing created a soundwave that shredded Catman's cape and cut through the back of Deadshot's outfit when they went to dodge her. Friendly fire wasn't much of a concern apparently, as two of her allies were caught in the crossfire and badly hurt.
While diving out of the way of her attack, Catman threw a knife that hit Virtuoso in the shoulder, "Guh!" She dropped her instrument, and by the time she bent over to try and pick it up, Catman was right in front of her, delivering a running knee strike to the head.
His focus on Virtuoso left him wide open for a strike of electricity that dropped him to his knees, "GAH!"
Arm in a sling, Weather Wizard approached, grinning smugly as he stalked the two tired members of The Six. Deadshot moved to take aim at him, but a wave of his wand sent a miniature hurricane his way that blew him to the end of the hallway. Deadshot's body bounced off of the wall and hit the ground face down.
It was a sweet feeling for Weather Wizard. The memory was still fresh from what had happened when he'd had them captured. His arm still hadn't healed yet, "Remember me? Rematch time, you assholes!" He pointed his wand at Deadshot, conjuring more lightning.
Deadshot rolled out of the way of a lightning bolt and shot Weather Wizard with his wrist-mounted guns. One round hit him in the thigh, and another in the chest, sending him spinning into the wall where he slumped to the ground, clutching his more serious wound.
"You don't have Doctor Polaris with you this time, dumbass," Deadshot remarked.
Weather Wizard didn't reply, instead more concerned with how to prevent the blood from leaving his body.
With the danger temporarily dealt with, Deadshot remained on the ground for a moment to catch his breath, "Ugh... we done yet?"
Given the sounds of combat that could still be heard all over the house, Catman couldn't say that they were, "I don't think so. Get up, Lawton. We're not dead yet," He looked around, just in case another attack came their way, "This isn't working. We've got to find the head and slice it off."
Deadshot groaned as he pushed himself back to his feet, "Yeah. Butch and Sundance final shootout. Let's just go with it."
A rapid set of boot steps alerted them to another threat, forcing the two apart as a broadsword crashed down to the ground between them. Catman went to retaliate with a knife in his hand, only for the sword to be swung upwards, knocking the weapon from his hand.
When Deadshot went to take a shot at the new enemy, a sword swing crashed into the wrist-mounted gun he was using, destroying the weapon, and carving deep into his forearm, "Fuck!" He shouted in pain before being kicked back against the wall.
Grant Wilson grinned as he re-positioned his sword to run Deadshot through. Before he could, Catman leapt at him, tacking him against the wall next to Deadshot. Big and strong, Grant endured the blow and kneed Catman in the stomach and head several times while the man's arms were wrapped around his waist. Deadshot tried to lash out with a punch, but Grant swatted it aside and grabbed Deadshot by the arm, tugging him into Catman and knocking him off-balance.
All three spilled to the floor, with Grant rolling through back to his feet, while Catman and Deadshot kneeled on one knee side-by-side.
From the side, Catman eyed the deep wound on Deadshot's arm that he was nursing, and then Grant, sizing up their chances, "Actually... you go," He requested of Deadshot, "I'm thinking this is going to be a little harder going than the others were."
Deadshot glanced over at Catman for a moment, making sure to keep Grant well within his field of vision, "You sure?"
Catman sighed in exasperation, "Deadshot, don't try to act like this is some 'buying you time' moment. Just go do your best to put down a ringleader or two. I'll be doing the same once I finish up here."
Not needing anymore prompting, Deadshot took off down the hallway, leaving Catman to deal with the original Ravager all by himself.
If Grant was upset by Deadshot's departure, it didn't show by the large grin on his face, "Out of the lot of you, I wasn't really looking for you in particular, Catman. But since you're right here-," He dragged his sword in a line across the floor, "-Why the hell not? I'd heard you'd stepped your game up. Might be fun."
"By the end of the night, this isn't going to be fun for anyone here."
XxX
Despite the rather explosive start to the battle, none of the heavy-hitters Null had seen through Scandal's security feed had seen it prudent to come after him up to that point. Hitting and running had been his best bet, as so many of them thought someone as young as him would fold when they got to him and put a little pressure on him.
He'd been keeping count of his tally since the start. Counting Humpty Dumpty and Amos Fortune, he'd managed to defeat six opponents by himself.
Keeping on the move so as not to be cornered, he walked past a hallway when a knife sailed past him and into a painting on the wall beside him, he stopped and slowly, robotically turned his head to find the source of the knife thrown his way.
A slight man with a green bodysuit and an open red leather jacket that had 'Foul Play' written on the sleeves, and chains hanging from the collar, sleeves, and bottom. His face was painted with a black 'T'.
He looked wholly unimpressive, and if that was his idea of an ambush, his fighting ability also left much to be desired.
Null looked back at the painting on the wall, then at his attacker, noting just how off his aim had been, "That throw was terrible."
The villain before him took on a sheepish demeanor, "Well, that's kind of my thing. See, I'm Mister Terrible, and everything I do turns out disastrous," He took out another knife and pointed at it to illustrate, "I was aiming for your heart, see? ...Sorry," He apologized.
Now at a loss for words, he looked at the knife he still had in his hand and shrugged before throwing it at Null as well.
Null made it a point to not even bother deflecting it, instead just letting it sail harmlessly past him. He stared blankly at what he could consider the poorest example of a superhero or villain he had run into by that point, "...Hey," He eventually said, "...Wanna help me with something?"
Before Mister Terrible could answer, Null had magnetically drawn all of the t-shaped knives he kept on his person and had picked him up by all of the chains he kept on his suit. Null threw him out of the third-story window, and slammed him back against the wall outside, using his knives to pin him there by his costume.
Mister Terrible didn't dare kick and struggle to free himself, lest he find himself taking the long fall to the hard ground below, "Hey! Hey! What are you doing!?" He cried out, looking down frightfully.
"I appreciate it," Null drawled. He stuck himself to the ceiling and blended his suit in, waiting for his plan to take effect.
It didn't take long. With so many others prowling the House of Secrets, Mister Terrible's calls for assistance eventually drew attention.
A tall man with a black full bodysuit arrived, peering out the window where Mister Terrible had gone crashing through. The man wore a yellow domino mask, and his suit had a skull with a lightning bolt through it. At the wrists of the outfit, there were two energy generators.
"How the hell did you get out there?" The new arrival asked, turning his head up to see Mister Terrible pinned to the wall.
"The kid, I think his name is Null, or something! Whatever! Just get me down, Bolt!"
Bolt sighed and shook his head, "I think I should leave you up there, idiot."
Null silently dropped down from the ceiling and wrapped his arms around Bolt's neck, capturing him in a choke from behind.
"Gack!" Bolt reared back, grabbing at the arms around his neck.
"Shhh..." Null whispered in his ear, all while maintaining the choke. He wrapped his legs around Bolt's waist to keep his position.
Bolt tried not to go quietly, however, trying to use the powers of his suit to short-range teleport himself free of the young man's grasp. One moment, Null found himself at the spot of his ambush, the next he was outside on the ledge, and then falling down through the branches of a tree to the ground. But none of it dislodged Null, who had stuck himself to Bolt fast.
The unfortunate villain continued to struggle against Null's stranglehold, slowly losing consciousness. Before he passed out, he triggered the electo-blasts in his suit and attempted to electrocute his way free, dumping all of the energy he had at his disposal into the task.
Null just maintained his hold and grinned at the feeling of all of the electricity he was being allowed to absorb. It was a much needed boost, as he would need all of the energy he could get to survive the night.
"Thanks for the top-off," Null said as he finally felt Bolt's body go limp. He released the man as quietly as he could, "I'll make sure I put it to good use."
Another opponent defeated, Null trotted off before anyone could find him standing over his handiwork.
'Man, this is gonna take all night...' Null thought to himself, keeping an eye out for anyone else spotting him. Deathstroke was somewhere with a high-powered rifle.
Everyone separating was what had been needed for their initial defense, but they'd scattered their attackers enough during the first push that they needed to do more now. Granted, he had no idea who was still alive or capable of still fighting. They didn't exactly establish a means to communicate with each other before all hell broke loose.
The chaos was working for them, but it wasn't enough. The lower-tier villains came after him because they perceived him as an easier target than the others, at least initially. That wouldn't last if he kept thwarting and running through anyone who caught up to him.
Pondering his next move, Null stopped when he came across another Gotham City native. There was Scarecrow, stooped over by the A/C unit for the mansion. In his hands was a gas canister of his infamous fear toxin. He seemed to be in the midst of hooking it up to the air system.
Null cleared his throat to get Scarecrow's attention. When the disgraced psychologist looked up at him, Null questioned him, "...So, what are you doing?"
"..." After an awkward standoff, Scarecrow lifted the gas gun he kept on his person and tried to fire a round of fear toxin at Null. Null jammed the gun with his powers.
Null raised an eyebrow and magnetically took control of Scarecrow's needle glove, still on the man's hand. Unable to stop it, Scarecrow could only watch and struggle in vain as Null forced him to stab himself in the neck with his own fear concoction.
He was immune to his own creation, but it was the sheer gall of the act that nettled Scarecrow, "You little..."
Ironsand leaked out of the pores of Null's suit and covered his fist. He dashed forward and leveled Scarecrow with a punch to the face that bent the top half of his body backwards like a limbo competitor before the rest of his body kicked up and came with him. The back of his head and neck hit the ground first. Null heard a crack.
It could have been Scarecrow's head or neck impacting off of the ground.
...Of course, it also could have been the bolt of lightning that struck down just a few feet away from him.
"SHAZAM!"
From the bolt of lightning, Black Adam appeared, floating forward, arms crossed, with no fear.
The same couldn't be said for Null. As he'd said before to Scandal, fighting Black Adam seemed like suicide to him. But this whole night was supposed to be a last stand.
There was no mental steeling. There was no banter. Null knew that the longer he waited, the more afraid he would be. There was no fun way for him to deal with Black Adam now that the man was right in front of him, so he chose the most direct option – he went right at him.
Black Adam hadn't expected the young thief to launch himself at him. It resulted in Null scoring a direct hit with a metal-coated punch to the face that sent him backwards a few feet. Black Adam stopped himself cold, Null's fist still attached to his cheek.
Black Adam seemed pleased and amused. He reached up and removed Null's hand from his face, keeping a tight grip on his wrist. With his other hand, he reared back and let loose a punch of his own.
Null put up a magnetic force field, but could only do so much to blunt Black Adam's sheer strength. The punch sent him flying into the stone wall of the mansion exterior. Again, Null's force field helped, but he was still badly rattled by the impact, cracking the wall. He let out a deep, breathless gasp upon impact. Before he could fall off to the ground, Black Adam flew forward and plowed him through the wall properly.
It was a good thing that the interior walls weren't as hard as the stone outside, because Null went through three more rooms before his body came to a stop. He picked himself up out of the debris surrounding him, surprised and relieved that he could still do so.
"So glad I worked on defense," Null said to himself as he readied himself for more combat. Black Adam floated through the holes of his own creation.
Adam looked impressed as he considered Null's current state of being, "You still live. You still stand," He said, sounding pleased, "The strength of Amon has felled countless mortals before you. It's impressive that you can still fight me... or that you think you can still fight me."
"…Whatever," Null huffed, "Just… whatever."
Black Adam conjured a powerful bolt of lightning from behind him that struck out and hit Null, leaving him wide-eyed and stunned, "Hurgh..." The boy swayed unsteadily in place as smoke rose from his form.
Adam raised an eyebrow at the fact that Null still stood, even after being hit with the magic thunderbolt of Aton. It took a stout constitution to endure one of those head on and remain upright. Null held up a hand, instructing Adam to stop, the changed his tone, beckoning Adam for more. Adam obliged him, and this time, the force of the lightning strike knocked Null off his feet.
This time, the boy remained down. Adam hovered over him, appraising his motionless body. Every so often, electricity still rippled off of him. For good measure, he struck him one last time, eliciting a violent jerk of Null's body before it went still once more.
Black Adam closed his eyes and bowed his head, "You fought bravely. The gods will not forget."
Footsteps crunching over broken bits of the house alerted Adam that he was not alone. He turned around to see the daughter of Deathstroke standing there, sword and pistol in hand. Even with half of her face covered by her mask, her expression seemed… conflicted.
XxX
(Meanwhile - Undisclosed Location)
On a submarine miles under the surface of one of the world's many oceans and seas, the REAL Lex Luthor stood hunched over a monitor, smirking to himself as he watched the feed of the interrogation room of his Society double. He observed the line of questioning, and then the callous execution of Pariah.
It had been quite the uninspiring performance from Lex's point of view. How this man had managed to fool the world into thinking he was him was beyond him. It only served to show just how hopeless the masses really were.
'Wherever you're from, impostor, you're not fit to take my place,' The suit-clad business mogul thought to himself, 'You've been content to play a dark King Arthur, while I? I want to play billiards with the universe.'
He moved away from his surveillance equipment, and pulled a switch, opening the floor for a raising platform that contained a large storage container. With a hiss, it slowly began to open, spewing cold steam from the cracks.
Inside of the container was a sophisticated, high-tech suit of armor. It was specifically designed to fight Superman, but he could find other practical uses for it in uncertain times.
'It came to me one night,' Lex continued to think to himself, 'Even if I destroy every superhero on Earth... even if I make Superman a red-caped cadaver... I still will have rivals for the planet's throne. Other 'villains'. So I chose my team. My Six. To splinter and nullify your numbers.'
Catman – for his knowledge of Batman's army of foes, and his disenfranchisement with the existing cabal of villainy.
Deadshot – for his familiarity with the remaining Suicide Squad members.
Rag Doll – who grew up almost a nephew to the enemies of the old Justice Society, a precursor group to the Justice League, whose foes were still notable and dangerous.
Scandal – whose very father might be the second most dangerous man on Earth.
Cheshire – who had deep knowledge of the ins and outs of the underground and terrified respect of the opponents of the Teen Titans.
Null – an ace-in-the-hole with no sense of allegiance to the wrong side of the law, and more potential for strength than recognized by most of the mainstream criminals of the world.
And they did what he needed of them. Everything he said, including planting devastating ecological bombs as leverage against Ra's al Ghul, should he ever return.
'I even arranged for them to be captured and tortured by The Society, to bring them closer. To make them bond and function together...' He thought to himself as he put on the armor piece-by-piece, '...Until my lesser self made a deal with Cheshire and nearly ruined everything.'
Lex loaded himself into a small vessel onboard his submarine, and ejected into the inky blackness of the deep sea.
He needed to go topside.
'You have the numbers on your side, impostor, and you may well kill my players tonight,' Lex thought, a grim expression on his face, 'But I promise you this, pretender. I'm coming for you. And I'll make you pay for taking my place.'
XxX
(Somewhere in Rural Vermont – House of Secrets)
Scandal tried to keep from taking too much from her lineage. After all, Vandal Savage was a treacherous man capable of nigh unspeakable atrocities, but there were still things she could take from him that would benefit her as her own person. Things like tenacity.
That tenacity kept her going tit-for-tat with Talia as they clashed sword against bladed gauntlet.
A punch cuffed Scandal in the side of the head, leaving her wide open for a swing of Talia's sword that cut into the side of her upper arm. Talia stepped past her and kicked her in the back, knocking Scandal to the floor. Scandal rolled through to a kneeling position on the ground, keeping an eye on Talia as she nursed her new, deep wound.
"There's no shame in losing to a superior opponent, Scandal," Talia said, the tip of her sword brandished directly at Scandal, "If it were up to me, I'd let you live."
Gripping her sword with both hands, she moved to run Scandal through. Scandal crossed her forearms and pushed Talia's sword aside smashing her shoulder and head into Talia's face. Before Talia could stumble back too far, Scandal swiped at her with one of her Lamentation Blades, cutting into Talia's side.
"It... might not be up to you still," Scandal shot back before trying to push her advantage.
Talia recovered well as Scandal attacked, swinging both arms. Talia stabbed the tip of her sword through the inside of Scandal's forearm with one hand, and stopped Scandal's other with her free hand. This move done, Talia drove Scandal back against a pillar and swept her leg out, sitting her down in a vulnerable position.
Breathing heavily, Talia hovered over Scandal, hair wild, covering one eye, "You never could have won, Scandal. You think we didn't know your every move?" She asked, digging the sword deeper into Scandal's arm.
Scandal writhed in pain underneath the pressure of the weapon buried in her limb, "Unnggh... not every move, Talia. Because, you see, I planted a mole on your team," A shadow covered the two of them, putting a smirk on Scandal's face, "Hello, Knockout."
Talia's eyes went wide, before a green-gloved punch to the temple smashed her to the stairs, leaving her in an undignified heap.
Scandal pulled down her mask and peered up at the larger redhead looking down at her remorsefully.
It had been very hard for Scandal to keep Knockout's true allegiance a secret. When they had been tortured in Gotham City, Knockout had been set as one of their jailers. It had been no small task for her to keep from acting, even when she had to drag Scandal herself to the torturer's chair.
When the Secret Six had broken out, Knockout took the first opportunity available to take a fall – provided by Null hurling Captain Nazi at her, skull on skull.
From there, she'd filtered back what she could, but there were some things Knockout couldn't have had any idea about until it was too late, such as the attack on the House of Secrets, or Cheshire's betrayal. It came to the point where Knockout couldn't stand aside and let things run their course any longer.
Knockout reached down to remove the sword from Scandal's arm and scoop her up protectively, "I know you told me never to interfere, not even to save your life, Scandal-."
"Hush, it's alright," Scandal assured her with a smile, wrapping Knockout in a loving embrace, "I would say that this situation is definitely beyond what we agreed, beloved."
XxX
Being caught alone with Solomon Grundy was an ordeal that Rag Doll doubted any of his other cohorts could simply fight their way out of. By that line of thinking, he had no chance against the undead brute.
There was no point in fighting, so why try? Why not explore another avenue of conflict resolution?
Grundy, wait!" Rag Doll exclaimed before Grundy could bludgeon him into a fine paste, "Let me take off my mask for a moment. Would you be so kind?"
Grundy slowly lowered his hands and let out a grunt. Rag Doll took this as receiving permission to proceed. He undid his mask and removed it from his head, revealing his discolored, scarred, nearly bald appearance.
"What do you see, my albino friend?" Rag Doll asked.
Grundy grunted as he observed, "Monster face. Ugly."
"Precisely," Rag Doll said in agreement, "And... does that not put you and I on the same team?"
Solomon Grundy seemed to take a long moment to think before making his decision. Looking past Rag Doll, and to the door he'd entered through, he walked past him and punched the door off of its hinges, tearing out part of the wall and hitting Society villains that had amassed outside to ambush Rag Doll should he escape.
The last thing they expected was for Solomon Grundy to come barnstorming out, cracking all of their heads with hammer-like fists.
Rag Doll took the opportunity to slip away while Grundy wreaked havoc.
XxX
Deadshot was an assassin. He wasn't some kind of front-line fighter capable or willing to fight hordes of enemies. He preferred a more precise strike. More importantly, he didn't want to waste his time dying without making the people behind the plot pay dearly.
Catman's suggestion to him to go find someone notable to kill to take the pressure off of the attack was something he could easily get onboard with.
Exiting through a mansion door to the dliapidated garden of the House of Secrets, Deadshot found himself face-to-face with Deathstroke.
What a coincidence. He would have preferred Talia, or Dr. Psycho, targets his certain set of skills would have been better suited against, but that wasn't to say he didn't have a good chance of winning against his counterpart.
After all, beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to targets of opportunity.
"Hello, Lawton," Deathstroke already stood with his small arm handgun drawn at his side, "You never were the kind of guy to sneak out and leave his team."
Deadshot eyed Deathstroke carefully, slowly sliding his entire body out of the door to stand off with the man, "That ain't what's happening, Wilson. I've got a debt to pay. So I figure, if I get rid of you, you don't kill the guy I owe. Make sense?"
Deathstroke raised an eyebrow behind his mask, "Not really," He replied. Then again, he didn't care. Bodies needed to be put in the ground, and that was why he was there.
One of Deadshot's wrist-mounted guns had been destroyed by Deathstroke's sword-swinging progeny, but he still had one that was fully functional. It was more than enough to do the job.
Both men raised their weapons and fired at each other, diving to their sides for the cover of the same wide, round stone fountain.
XxX
Null couldn't beat Black Adam head-on. He knew this. One punch from Black Adam had him questioning every life decision that led him to that moment, and it didn't even fully connect, instead cushioned by his force field. The second made him want to vomit.
Fortunately, there were perks to being the token unknown of the Secret Six. Even after being active for nearly a full year, his power set was still largely unknown. Why would Black Adam care about what he could do? The man ruled an entire country and tangled with the best of the best and the worst of the worst.
So what if Null had the ability to absorb and process electricity, in seemingly any form it happened to come in? So what if Black Adam, in his desire to be merciful, yet thorough in his extermination of Null had unknowingly supplied the boy with enough power to power the Pentagon for a full day?
Well, those last two things put together meant something significant. Only after Null came out of the shock he'd brought upon himself by egging Black Adam on to strike him down did he realize just how good the intended attack had left him feeling.
From where he had been laying motionless, his chest heaved upward with a massive breath. As Adam had his back turned, Null tucked his knees into his own chest and sprang up, kicking Adam in the back of the head and sending him crashing through the ceiling and subsequent floors, all the way outside of the house.
Null wasn't sure, but from how far he flew, and how fast he went, he might have hit Adam just as hard as Adam hit him. It felt great.
"FUCKING GAAAAAAH!" Null exclaimed loudly, electricity shining bright in his eyes. Glowing veins were visible in the skin on his face – a physical representation of just how much power ran through his body. His heart thumped in his chest like a jackhammer.
"Sparks?"
Null turned around to find Rose standing there, heavily armed and in full Ravager regalia.
…Oh. Yes, of course.
If Deathstroke was there to kill off the Secret Six, it would stand to reason that she was too, if she were there. However, from what he could see, her loadout was insufficient to do the job, especially now that he had been souped up by Black Adam.
Rose didn't know what to do; didn't know what she wanted to do. She had been afraid that Null had been killed, but that was what she'd been searching for him to do herself. Once she stood face-to-face with him, doubts crept into her mind.
His death was part of the mission. If she failed, she'd be tarnishing her father's name, and letting her brother down. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it herself, even if she knew they next person capable of doing so would end his life without a second thought.
He would still die by the end of the night, so wouldn't it be better coming from someone he knew? Or would that be worse?
"Rav?"
Hearing Null say her name made her realize what she had really come for. Rose had just wanted to see him again. Grant was great. He was tried to be as good an older brother as he could be, given the circumstances, but being with her father as an official apprentice hadn't been the prize she'd led herself to believe it would be. Life with Deathstroke was harsh, and it always seemed like her best wasn't good enough. That even a perfect performance was at best the minimum expected.
Seeing Null again brought back so many memories of their time together, and how comfortable she had been with him around. Was a few months too soon to feel nostalgia for something?
She wanted to reach out and touch him, but stray snaps of barely contained electricity showed her that doing so was probably a bad idea.
It was not the best time for a reunion.
"Uh…" Null started to say, "You're probably gonna want to get out of here, because Black Adam's gonna be back any second, and he's gonna be pissed."
"What are you going to do?" Rose asked as Null's gaze drifted up to the hole in the ceiling.
Null clenched his fists at his side and felt how overloaded he was, "Something you don't want to be caught in."
He pressed his hands together and built up a massive amount of electricity, combined with his magnetic powers. The combination of energies darkened, and the pressure of Null's immediate surroundings changed. Rose could feel that something big was about to happen and stepped away from him, "Is that a-?"
The lights in the house began to flicker before going out entirely. A strong force contained in between Null's hands moved the ends of his hood about wildly, "Yeah, this feels like it's gonna work," He said to himself before turning to Rose with a smile, "Thank you for those games you gave me. Great source for ideas."
Turning away from Rose, Null swung his arms and let everything go. The moment the mass of energy Null threw touched the ground, it spun, kicking up a massive black tornado that tore through the floor and ceiling.
It wasn't a real tornado - more a bastardization of one using polar properties. But it did the same damage as one to anything close enough to get drawn in. The entire building started coming down around Null, piece by piece. Sucked into a fake tornado that periodically shot off bolts of stray lightning.
Despite the situation, he couldn't help but grin. It was a beautiful sight.
To hell with a graceful death. If he had to go out, he would do so throwing the biggest metahuman hissy fit about it he could. Why not? What was anyone else going to do about it, kill him?
XxX
Even with massive pieces of the mansion lifting off of the ground into the air via a tornado, Deadshot and Deathstroke had the other's full, undivided attention.
With the wind blowing violently, Deadshot peeked his head out from behind the short stone wall he rested behind, "Hey, 'Stroke. You still got that healing power?"
"You know I do, Lawton," Deathstroke replied.
Deadshot chuckled to himself, "Let's test it out then, yeah? We both step out. Count of three," He offered, "There's no win here for either of us, so I say we both agree to be losers. Unless you're, you know, gutless."
While no one wanted to risk being shot, Deathstroke figured with his powers, his chances of getting up afterwards were better than Deadshot's, "Will you shut up if I agree?"
"Oh yeah. That's a promise," Probably forever if Deathstroke's aim was good enough, "One... two... three, you one-eyed freak."
Without hesitation, both men moved out from their places of cover and fired as many shots on the other as they could. Deathstroke got off four, Deadshot got off five. Neither missed, with each shot landing clean and grouping well around both men's chests.
Deadshot collapsed where he stood, while Deathstroke stumbled back, tripping over a small ledge and falling down a rocky hill.
The sound was audible as the wind from the tornado started to die down. The thud of Deathstroke's tumble was loud enough for Deadshot to get a laugh out of it, even as he lay bleeding.
"Well... mutually assured destruction," Deadshot said to himself, staring up at the sky as blood began to pool underneath him, "N...Nice."
XxX
(Meanwhile – Gotham City – The Hill – Society Headquarters)
It had taken a long time for Pariah to die. Leaving someone gut shot was normally a slow process, after all, and Lex had taken the time to watch it for every last lingering second.
It was a weight off of his shoulders that certain secrets would die with the space and time traveler. There were things that his allies in The Secret Society of Supervillains didn't need to know. It was better for all of them that they didn't.
Needing to get back to overseeing the attack on the Secret Six, Lex exited the secured room, wiping his hands down with a handkerchief, "Say hello to whatever friends you have in hell, Pariah-."
Before the door could close behind him, Vandal Savage leapt from the shadows and snatched him from behind, "Hush, Luthor," He placed the edge of a razor-sharp blade to his throat, "I have a request to make of you."
With the massive Vandal keeping him close, and with no realistic way to fight him off, there wasn't much of a choice but to listen.
"Let's talk then," Lex said, in the hopes that Vandal would lighten up.
"No. No talking," Vandal pressed the knife to Lex's throat a bit tighter, drawing blood. He would not give this man an inch of room to maneuver – physically or diplomatically, "Luthor, no man on Earth knows more about political assassinations than me. Your thugs are attacking my daughter. I can't allow that."
The Six. Crap. By this point, there was no way he didn't know about the ongoing proceedings. Lex tried to save face, "I... didn't know you cared."
A cold, hard man like Vandal, who had seen just about everything in recorded history worth seeing, who had sired an innumerable amount of children over the ages. To be concerned about this child in particular, who from what all signs had shown wanted absolutely nothing to do with her heritage.
It definitely threw cold water on the idea of Vandal and Lex working together in The Society in the future.
"Oh, I care," Vandal sneered darkly, "Call it off, or die."
With that, the ultimatum was given. There would be no worming any extra terms to try and soften things for Lex's side. Either it would be done the way Vandal wanted it, or the floor would be covered in Lex's blood in a matter of moments.
Lex simply smirked. This entire Secret Six affair had been a major headache, "Put the blade down, Vandal Savage, and let's make a deal like twin Napoleons."
XxX
(Somewhere in Rural Vermont – House of Secrets)
What used to be the House of Secrets lay around Null in ruins.
It was odd. Null was no stranger to being caught up in an overwhelming display of power. But up until then, he had only seen such things come from others. Never had he been the one to cause the kind of damage that he had borne witness to.
As he traipsed through what was left of the Secret Six's former hideout, he stopped when he stumbled upon the massive, downed form of Giganta. She lay dazed and out of it, covered in debris, chunks of mansion, and electric burns. If he'd managed to get her when she'd been outside of the house the whole time, there was no telling just who else would have fallen victim.
Null would have laughed at the idea of him wiping out a major part of the attackers sent after his team, but he was too tired. It had been such a long night. Not just because of the assault from The Society, but because of the mission they'd had beforehand. It had been a marathon of a day.
And the cherry on top was Black Adam descending from the skies. Other than a few scuffs and smudges on his face and clothes, he looked none the worse for wear. Null wondered if he'd been caught in the Ionic Vortex he'd made.
"Well done," Black Adam said, "I made a mistake, and you took advantage. I won't make it twice. You will not taste the power of Aton again."
Which was a shame, because Null could have used it. He'd lost a lot. Too much.
'The Ionic Vortex took... everything he gave me and then some,' Null tried to spark some kind of electricity between his fingers and got a weak flow of energy in response, 'I don't even have a lot of my own left.'
The attempt to draw upon any bit of power he had left nearly dropped Null to a knee. He'd never exhausted so much electricity before. It left him feeling murky and sluggish, with waves of nausea passing through him whenever he tried to exert himself further.
He could look as ready to continue as he wanted. He was running on fumes.
A ring from a communicator on Adam sounded out, drawing his attention. Even when he went to answer it, Null didn't bother attacking. It seemed like Adam expected him to, and was prepared to make him pay for the attempt. Null preferred using the small delay to come up with something, anything to get himself out of it.
"Yes?" Adam said, hardly paying Null any mind.
Null tapped the controls for the Gravboard he'd interfaced with his suit. It wasn't likely he would be able to flee, but having the option made him feel better. Even if the plan wouldn't work in the end, the feeling that he was trying to come up with something-.
"Retreat!?" Black Adam suddenly exclaimed, drawing Null's undivided attention away from futile planning, "Luthor, are you mad? We can crush them! They're defeated alread-!"
Using just about the last bit of power he had at his disposal, Null jumped the transmission and listened in to Society HQ's end.
"-Gather your wounded and dead, and retreat now, Adam," He heard a man order, "If Cheshire is still breathing, bag her up as well. Please."
Serendipity had to be a thing. It had to be. That was the only way Null reasoned that such a thing would occur.
But just because Black Adam was asked to do something didn't mean that he would do so. He could just as easily dust Null and say that he had done so before the retreat order went out. Null knew it. More importantly, Adam knew it.
Black Adam was a complicated man. He could be utterly ruthless. He had operated on both sides of the line of good and evil. He had been caught up in the gears of history and had also been the orchestrator of great chaos in his own right. Most of what he did currently was steeped in his desire to protect his homeland, including joining The Society, to prevent their meddling.
Very little that he did could be taken upon the face value of the action alone.
Adam mulled over the pros and cons of simply torching the boy before him on the spot. He doubted his adversary had the vitality that the champion of the gods could boast, "Your name is Null, correct?"
The young individual in question nodded silently.
"Our business here is concluded," Adam said, turning to leave him alone, "Don't let me see you again, Null. I have not found our meetings to be rewarding."
With that, he departed, leaving Null alone with just one question open in the air.
'...Did we just win?'
XxX
Rose hadn't dallied in the mansion when she realized what kind of attack Null had created in his hands. She'd seen him do some things in the past that had amazed her, but to see him exude as much power as he had left her staring open-mouthed.
It took a while for her to remember that, in fact, her brother Grant had been in there, "Grant!" She called out, slowly walking from her safe distance away.
"Shit. Rose, over here. Give me a hand."
She paused when she heard Grant's voice, and followed the sound to a steep rocky drop-off where she found both living members of her family.
Grant's suit was torn to ribbons, with bloody claw marks all over. His injuries were steadily healing, even before her eyes, but he had clearly been through the wringer.
Slade, on the other hand, sat leaned against a rock, nursing the bullet wounds in his chest. A normal man would have been dead, but Deathstroke was not normal. Neither was his body armor, though it seemed like it failed him against Deadshot's magnum bullets.
"You both look like shit," Rose stated bluntly as she approached them.
"Yeah-yeah-yeah," Grant groused, "Shut up. I'll be good by the time we land. But this guy here-."
"Now, you shut up," Deathstroke interrupted him, "Fucking Deadshot."
The bastard had dished out as good as he'd received from Deathstroke. The only thing Slade could take solace in was the fact that he would heal quickly. If Deadshot survived, he would take much longer to get back to anything resembling fighting shape. Of course, Slade Wilson didn't believe in little victories.
"Come on, old man. Up," Grant said, getting underneath one of Deathstroke's arms. The only sign of pain or discomfort the man showed in response was a grunt, "Little help, Baby Rav?"
Rose took her place under Deathstroke's other arm, taking half of her father's weight, "It got quiet."
"Because it's over," Grant said, "I guess throwing a tornado and a fucking mansion is as good a coup de grace as I can think of."
"Weather Wizard is an idiot," Deathstroke said, "If that moron has the nerve to show his face after this fiasco..."
Grant stopped his father's train of thought before it could go any further in the wrong direction, "Nah. It wasn't him. I mean, the way he got dropped was pretty lame anyway, but he didn't make the tornado. I watched him go down."
There was a good chance Weather Wizard was dead. But none of them really cared about that.
The words flew out of Rose's mouth before she could debate the merits of revealing them, "It was Null," She said, "I watched him do it."
She didn't know why she wanted Null to get the credit. Learning this might give her father a target for his anger. After all, the night had been a failure. But Deathstroke had always seen Null as lesser. There was a part of her that wanted respect for him from the most important figure in her life.
That important figure gave her a stern side glance, "You saw him, and you didn't stop him?" Deathstroke asked.
Rose glared back, "Why do you think he fucking made it in the first place?"
Not because of her. Even if she'd tried to kill him, she didn't think it would have been possible at that moment. But if she said it with enough heat behind it, she could sell him on it. Whether she had done so, or because Deathstroke was in so much pain he didn't bother to doubt it, Rose didn't know, but he left it at that.
XxX
Completely drained, Null stumbled across the remains of the mansion that had served as the battleground. He'd made it a point to try and avoid any of the dregs of The Society that were trying to crawl their way out of the area. Even if they were as bad off as him, or worse, he didn't have anything left to give in the fighting department.
After a fairly treacherous walk, he came across Catman kneeling over a heavily bleeding Deadshot in what was left of the garden. Catman had ripped off what was left of his cape to try and stop the blood loss as best as he could.
Great. That made three of them accounted for. Three, if Deadshot survived, that was.
Deadshot, mask off, lit cigarette in his mouth despite his state, saw Null first, "Hey. The kid's alive."
Null winced under his hood. The man sounded terrible and looked worse. Getting close enough to get a good look, he saw the five shots in his chest. There wasn't anything he could say. There wasn't anything he could do. Maybe if Deadshot's heart stopped beating, he could serve as a defibrillator (if he had enough electricity to do so), but until then he was useless.
Deadshot reached out and grasped Catman's arm tightly, "The cats, Blake. Sorry 'bout them cats," He apologized weakly.
"Save the apologies for when you're not about to die," Catman said.
Scandal and Rag Doll approached, with Knockout following along. Null tensed up, remembering the Apokoliptian woman from weeks earlier. But she wasn't beating down his teammates, or holding them hostage, so he simply kept an eye on her. If anything, she seemed to be doting on Scandal.
Scandal helped Catman check on Deadshot's health, "He'll live if he gets medical attention," She declared.
"Think we can get him to the plane?" Null asked, eager to help. Eager to put all of this behind them, "We're all here. If there was a time to get out of here, now would be it, don't you think?"
Rag Doll spoke up, "I believe Null has a point. There's no reason for us to linger here any longer."
Null trying to summon up his Gravboard earlier paid off, as he and Catman wound up setting Deadshot on it to use as a stretcher. It was a smoother ride than being carried would have been, which Deadshot silently appreciated.
The sight of The Six slogging their way to the airfield where the jet sat waiting was that of a weary, ragtag outfit. More six individuals randomly brought together than some kind of cohesive unit, and yet they lived.
Less than savory people forming a less than savory team for less than savory reasons.
Once they were onboard, Scandal climbed into the cockpit, "I can fly," She said. Knockout sat down in the co-pilot chair.
The others busied themselves with moving Deadshot off of the Gravboard and into a seat where he tried to keep himself awake. No one seemed to care that he was bleeding all over the upholstery.
A surprise awaited Scandal when she put the headset on as she prepared to take off. The moment she sighed into the microphone; a voice greeted her on the other end. One she knew very well.
"Hello, Scandal."
Scandal's heart leapt into her throat. She shivered in her seat and gripped the controls tightly, "Mockingbird," She hissed, getting Knockout's attention, "What do you want now?"
"To officially relieve you from your duty."
She shut her eyes, anticipating the worst. Had he secured the services of a specialist? An exterminator to clean up after them. Had he put explosives on the plane? Oh, God. They hadn't even thought to check before boarding.
But, no.
"There is no more use for the Secret Six. You and the others are free to go."
Scandal couldn't believe it. No attempts to needle one more task out of them, or anything, "What? But what about all of the blackmail you have over each of us?" He'd gotten to her mother, after all. Much in the same way he'd gotten to Cheshire's daughter.
Mockingbird chuckled in what one could have described as 'good-naturedly', "There never were any implants or bombs. Your families are safe. I'm a liar, not a child-killer."
She wasn't sure if that admission made her feel more relieved or angry. She wasn't given much time to process the thought, however.
"Mockingbird says you failed. But you live. Goodbye, Scandal," With that, the transmission closed.
Scandal lost contact with Mockingbird after that point and found herself unable to raise him again through their communications. After a moment of trying, she gave up and slumped back in her seat, staring off into space.
So, that was it? It was over?
Concerned at Scandal's demeanor and body language, Knockout reached out and put a hand on her lover's shoulder, "What's wrong?"
Scandal shook her head, uncertain of how to phrase her feelings. She peered back into the cabin of the jet, finding the other members of the team in various states.
Catman and Rag Doll sat, antsily awaiting takeoff for a semblance of security. Deadshot fought to keep his eyes open, holding the torn rag that was Catman's cape to his chest. Null was dead asleep, leaning to the side. His hood was off and his head was set against the cold window.
It was oddly peaceful to see.
"...I don't think anything is wrong," Scandal said, turning back around in her seat to begin takeoff procedures, "I think we're as well off as we're going to get."
XxX
(The Next Morning - Gotham City)
Null asked to be let off in Gotham City, while the rest of The Six went their own way. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, but it had been enlightening.
...Enlightening in the way that going underneath your house to see how many snakes lived down there was enlightening. Sure, you knew more than you did before about something that was important, but you were kind of happier before you knew.
There weren't a lot of people Max was keen on speaking to once he'd touched down in Gotham. But he called out one to meet him at a 24/7 dive of a restaurant near the oceanfront.
Max, dressed in whatever civs he could scrounge up, looked quite the sight for Kara as she sat down across from him in the booth. She was ecstatic to see that he was alive and in one piece, until she saw how tired her was. His face and arms were bruised, and a quick x-ray glimpse showed her that his entire body was much the same.
"Oh my God. What happened to you?" Kara asked, voice tinged with concern.
Max smiled back at her, "I'm not anywhere near the worst off. Don't worry about me."
Kara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She reached across the table and took Max's hands into hers, "How can I not worry about you? You up and vanished for two weeks. Where did you go? What were you doing?"
Max took a moment to savor the contact. It was the most pleasant physical interaction he'd had with anyone in weeks, "The Society," He said plainly.
That had been what Kara was afraid of all along, "Oh. So you were involved with them after all," She said regretfully, her eyes lowering away from him.
The whole 'dating a thief' thing was nerve-wracking. At any time, Max could decide to do something illegal, and if Kara had knowledge of it, it was her duty to do something about it.
She liked Null a lot, and didn't have any designs on breaking up with him for no reason, but falling in with supervillains bent on crushing superheroes and running roughshod over the world was a fantastic reason to dump someone.
To call their budding relationship a conflict of interest was underselling it.
The way she felt could be read across her face like a book. Max could clearly see how affected she was about his involvement with The Society.
'She thinks I got roped into joining them,' He thought to himself, amused.
She was half right, because, yes, he had been roped in, but not into joining The Society. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Max gave it a moment before assuaging her fears, "If by 'involved', you mean pitted against them by some mystery prick with a lot of resources and low moral fiber, then yes, I was involved," He smiled as warmly as he could as relief washed over Kara's face, "But we can get to me later. How have you been?"
"Well, I met Selina," Kara drawled, bringing up the awkward social call, "She's mad."
"I could guess," Max deadpanned.
He had told Selina he was back in town and would talk to her later, then turned off notifications so that he could put off her yelling at him. He hadn't so much as check to see if she'd messaged back in the interim. He at least needed a decent rest before dealing with that mess.
With Mockingbird having bluffed him into cooperating and risking his life, he knew that whatever explanation he had for Selina would be poor. With that in mind, when the time finally came, he resigned himself to getting his ear chewed off until she was finished.
Max clicked his tongue and took a drink of orange juice, wincing when the citrus burned the cuts inside of his mouth, "In the end, it was all for nothing. Well... not nothing, I guess. I learned a lot."
Kara raised an eyebrow in interest, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Max said in a faux upbeat voice, "I learned that the Justice League had a faction that was cool with magically lobotomizing criminals," Kara's mouth fell open in shock at the blunt declaration. This seemed to be news to her. That was good, "And that the bad guys were working on coming up with a way to do the same to heroes."
"They were?" Kara asked, still a tad shell-shocked at the first part of Max's statement.
"Okay, they still are," Max admitted, sliding a flash drive across the table to her.
Kara caught the tiny device when it flew off of the surface and into her grasp, "What's this?"
Max sighed and became more serious, "This is everything we took from The Society. We were still in the middle of decoding most of it, but I'd bet you have better people for the job than we had."
Scandal did well with what she had available to her, but she wasn't a top-notch hacker or computer programmer. There was only so much she could do, and only so quickly. They didn't have a lot of time between getting the intel and everything going pear-shaped.
It was fortunate that Max carried around all sorts of useful things in his satchel, like jump drives, just in case he came across a file or two that would be useful to have for himself. After all, information could be stolen just as easily and could be just as valuable as physical commodities. He'd managed to snag Scandal's work off of her laptop before they all split up to go fight.
Kara eyed the flash drive carefully. If what Max was telling her was true, there was a lot of sensitive information on it, "You're just going to give this to me?"
Max shrugged, "They didn't want me to. The team I was on, I mean. Catman was the only one who agreed at first. He helped me convince the others."
Apparently, Catman had been writing to Green Arrow about what had been happening, sending messages from their stops around the world when he had the chance. Who knew? It was entirely likely that Catman would have the same kind of meeting with Green Arrow that Max was having with Kara whenever he got the chance.
"The Society really do plan to mindwipe the heroes. Every last one of you. They'll probably do something worse too if they get the chance to recover."
And if something bad happened to superheroes in general, it would happen to Kara. Other than for self-preservation reasons, he didn't care about any of them.
"Then why give it to me? Why not..." One of the important superheroes? Kara wanted to say, but thought better of it, "...Why not someone else? You know how to get in touch with Batman."
Batman? Fuck Batman. At least, that was his initial reaction to hearing that he should go to that man for anything.
That aside, Max wasn't about to let Kara's ongoing battle with her sense of self-worth erode her confidence, even if it was slight, "Do you really think any of them would take what I have to say seriously?" He asked, "And I'm the most trustworthy person on my team. Think about that for a second."
Deadshot was a bad, bad dude that many of the Justice League had an axe to grind against. Catman was trying to remake himself from the ground up, but he used to be an absolute bottom-feeder. Rag Doll and Scandal were the children of known villains, and weren't the most pristine of souls themselves.
None of Max's Secret Six teammates were in a better position than him to be a trusted source of anything.
Max continued, "Besides, even if I do know a few heroes, I can't really trust any of them. I trust you."
Trusted her to what? To do the right thing? To believe him? To find a way to get the Justice League to take him seriously enough to use his intel?
Max knew he'd given her a lot to think about and then passed the buck to her, but it was the best he could do to help, "I told you before, I would rather heroes exist than not," He stood from his seat and walked over to Kara's side, leaning over to kiss her on the lips, "So use that, and keep doing your thing. Even though, I'm not technically on your side, I do support you."
"Mmm-hmm. Call me later?" Kara asked with a big grin, cheeks slightly red.
"For sure," Max agreed returning her expression, "I've got a lot of shit I need to unpack. Gonna have to bend your ear on this one."
The blonde Kryptonian nodded, "We'll make it a thing then."
"Sure. I'll make you dinner or something," Max offered as he headed for the door, "Make an evening of it."
That sounded great. The possibilities for how such an evening would unfold had Kara's mind racing until she caught sight of the glass and plate on the table, "Max, did you pay?"
Stopping at the open door, Max poked his head back inside and rolled his eyes, "Yes, Kara," He held up his receipt as evidence.
Seriously. If he was going to do something illegal, it was going to be for something more worthwhile than running out on an eight dollar Waffle House check. And he definitely wasn't going to do it in front of Supergirl of all people, even if they were dating. She might let him steal a kiss, but nothing else.
With his stomach filled, and his message passed on to the proper individual who could do something with the information, Max headed home. It wasn't a very long walk, which was good, because he was still badly fatigued.
When the thief made it back to his townhouse, he found a package sitting on his front stoop.
It was suspicious, as he hadn't been home in months to order anything online for himself. It looked like it hadn't been there for very long. A nondescript cardboard box that came up to his waist. Max used his powers to try and sense out any traps or oddities, finding none, except a sizable metal load inside.
There was a tag on the box that read, "From Mockingbird".
"And it's not a bomb?" Max said to himself, remembering how Scandal had assured them all on the plane that Mockingbird was cutting them loose, "Eh. Whatever. Should have died last night anyway."
Intrigued, he dragged the heavy package inside and sat down in his living room trying to get it open. It was a decent-sized safe with an electric lock on it, as though it weren't meant to be opened. Or at least, opened by a certain person.
Cracking the electric lock with his powers, Null watched the safe door open with a soft click, revealing an interior stacked with cash and old bearer bonds. With a small laugh to himself, Max quickly cleared space on his coffee table to start stacking and counting it all out.
By the end, he'd counted a $5.2 million value. And it was all real. It was real and in his hands. He could spend the cash today. He could cash in the bonds at his leisure.
Payment for suffering endured or services rendered, perhaps?
Max had figured from the moment he got involved that he would just take a bath on this little episode, leaving with nothing more than physical scarring and mental hardship. But, seeing as how his fortunes seemed to turn, he was perfectly willing to take the money from Mockingbird as a suitable substitute for the whole continent he'd been promised for a job well done. He kind of preferred it, actually.
"After all..." Max sighed in relief to himself as he leaned back on his couch to relax, "...What would a 17-year-old have done with Australia anyway?"
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