Zatarra's POV
Spells leaped from my lips in near-garbled murmurs as I doused fires, calmed minds, restrained the erratic, and saved lives.
It was hard—sweat poured from my brow—but the League was with me at every step. The backup team had finally arrived, and Batman had even placed a call to Superman. He might not be able to fight Artisan head-on, but he was one of the more versatile members of the League.
Above me, Martian Manhunter floated in the air alongside Captain Atom and Red Tornado, ready to breach the building where the remainder of Alex's bodyguards holed up.
"They're up to something," Martian Manhunter warned. "But I cannot make out the pieces without closer proximity. They're shielding their minds somehow."
"Another telepath?" Canary wondered aloud.
"No," he clarified. "It's some kind of psychokinetic—and a strong one at that."
"Is that going to be a problem?" Batman asked from the hallway leading to the third floor. He stood with Canary, the freshly recovered Superboy, and Ms. Martian. The injured metas had been extracted during the chaos and were already sitting in the bio-ship, incapacitated and unconscious, thanks to a mental command from Martian Manhunter.
"It's nothing I can't deal with," Martian Manhunter answered smoothly.
"Then let's get to it," Batman said. "The street is mostly clear. Open it up and get ready to flank them."
"Copy," Martian Manhunter said, raising his hands.
He concentrated and pulled.
Stone splintered and shattered. Metal tore free. My durability spell destabilized.
Martian Manhunter was in complete control—
Until he wasn't.
The floating chunks of masonry and steel accelerated, fracturing and scattering like buckshot fired from a barrel the size of a small building. A frown creased across J'onn's immaculate features as he fought back against the telekinetic force pushing him, and I lent a hand, chanting quickly, transforming the stone into harmless bubbles. Some debris escaped our collective crasp, slicing through buildings, cracking asphalt, and crunching cars.
The League closed the distance immediately—Captain Atom and Red Tornado charged the building, only to be driven back by a wall of violet fists the size of sedans hurtling toward them. Neither sensed it before contact, and I was a fraction too slow to warn them.
The building across from us vanished in an explosion of stone, glass, and fire.
My ears rang, but my mind stayed surprisingly clear.
"Zatarra! Zatarra! Can you hear me?"
I coughed before answering. A barrier had enveloped me at the last moment, protecting me from most of the blowback. "Crystal clear."
"Then that's everybody," Batman said. "Casualty count?"
"None," Martian Manhunter supplied. "The building had been evacuated prior."
A gale from Red Tornado swept most of the debris away.
"We still have a problem," Captain Atom sent telepathically through the dust as Tornado pushed the rest aside, giving us a clear view of the apartment building. Captain Atom hadn't budged an inch. He hovered in the air, eyes locked on the sorcerer and his accomplice.
Ming and Kyle.
Both dangerous lowlifes remade into monsters.
Kyle was a white supremacist hick. Ming—well, she was the daughter of a former Yakuza crime boss, and it showed when she began to speak.
She had Alex's wife standing in front of her, shivering and teary-eyed, while she and Kyle stood behind the family like executioners.
"I will only speak once," she said. "Unblock the phone lines and let us call Artisan, or they die. You have thirty seconds."
"We already have Alexander and the teleporter. Shazam reports Julius has defeated Ade. You're outmatched," Captain Atom declared.
"And you'll hand them all over too," Kyle said, grinning, "because you have to. That's the thing about you spandex-wearing race traitors—you're too soft."
A knife whipped out of his sheath, twisting to Bianca's neck. It touched her skin, drawing a line of blood. Ming's face twitched. There was something between them, but because of the magic vow Artisan used to bind them, I knew it wouldn't be nearly enough to stay her hand.
"You can't make the hard choices," Kyle continued, "a city filled with terrified people versus a hot piece of ass and her two snot-nosed brats. Well—I know what I'd choose."
"And that's where we differ, Kyle," Batman said, stepping through the stairwell as the rest of the team followed up behind him. A news helicopter hovered overhead now, catching the entire confrontation live. "We don't have to choose."
I saw a streak of golden lightning shoot into the open floor. Ming and Kyle were flung into the air—
—and then pain.
A hand was sticking out of my chest.
My heart was in it.
"This is for your Germany, you old fuck," a familiar voice rasped into my ear. George. Artisan's right-hand man!
He pulled his hand free, and I toppled to the floor, my legs failing me. There was so much blood.
"No!" The screams came distorted through my straining telepathic bond.
A sudden gust whisked me away, depositing me in a corner. My vision doubled. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
Two Barry Allens stood over me, screaming, begging.
It was useless.
I was dying.
"Find Julius!" I heard Batman scream. "Maybe it's not too late!"
But it was. There wasn't enough time.
Muttering a spell sub-vocally, I summoned a golden helmet.
Our doomsday plan.
We'd been reluctant to crown a new Fate, but Nabu had made his interests plain.
I would be cosigning my eternity to him—becoming his slave, his soundless puppet—but it was the only chance I had.
I just hoped it would be enough.
The two Flashes looked down at me, eyes furrowed with worry.
"Tell my… daughter that I… love her."
Flash hesitated.
Then nodded.
The world went white as the helmet came down
Julius's POV
"Well, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be…" I trailed off, staring at a gravely wounded Ade.
I'd tortured him, bringing him to the edge with poison, cuts, my pain touches, and so much more, but the son-of-a-bitch kept on ticking.
"I've got to hand it to you, Ade," I said. "You're built different. I expected a fight, but this… this is just torture porn, and frankly, I don't have the taste for it."
Blood, discarded viscera, and half-regrown muscle sloshed beneath my boots. His healing factor had slowed at some point, forcing me to go even harder, but I'd gotten nothing but incoherent snarls and empty threats.
Torture has reached level 9.
One more level.
"Still, that doesn't mean I won't keep going," I said, meeting his one good eye.
"Artisan… will peel your skin off with a knife."
"She might," I admitted. "Won't save you, though. Not here. Not now."
I pressed a thumb to his shoulder and froze it solid with Ice Formation. For extra credit, I spiked my Pain Tolerance subskill.
Ade screamed so loud the air vibrated.
"Cut it out with the sonic attacks before I slit your vocal cords again," I warned.
I sipped a Capri-Sun from my inventory. It was easy calories, which means more stamina and more cursed energy.
With a flick of my finger, I applied Expanse with far more control than I'd managed earlier. Stress fractures spider-webbed through Ade's frozen hand before it shattered completely.
He screamed until his face turned blue.
So I followed through on my threat.
A Dismantle slit his vocal cords.
When he started gurgling blood and dying, I belatedly realized I'd nicked something important, forcing me to pump positive energy into the wound. I healed his hand while I was at it.
Because why not?
I was just going to break it again.
The entire process took seconds.
By the end, something had changed.
Ade looked shaken.
"First time getting your throat cut?" I laughed.
No response.
"I don't suppose you're finally ready to tell me about Sakura's mustache-twirling evil plan."
The mention of Artisan's real name earned me a sharp look.
I smirked.
Still no answers followed.
It would take more to break his vows. He had to fear me more than he feared dying.
Even with all my tools, I wasn't sure I could manage it...yet.
So I pivoted.
"Fine," I said, throwing up my hands in mock defeat. "Artisan's off limits. Why don't you tell me about yourself? You're not like Gina and the other reluctant bunch—you actually want to be in this little death cult."
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