Kyle could still hear the tick-tock, tick-tock of the final few minutes of the last day of school itching in his ears. Watching the clock had been agony during last period, but he was just glad that he could finally say good riddance to middle school! If they made a list of all of the incoming high schoolers in all of the world, he doubted any of them were about to have a summer that could compare.
Throughout the bus ride home, he agonized over what to text Alexandra and Terry. The former because she was probably the only reason he even enjoyed coming to school at all, the latter because Terry and Kyle had been friends for years and had been on the rocks for weeks now.
The people on the bus must have thought he was crazy, his knee shaking with a combination of excitement, nervous jitters, and a heck ton of other feelings he couldn't possibly maintain. An older lady shot him a pitying look, but he scowled at her and let his phone absorb his attention again.
"Alex! I won't be available to hang this summ-"
Nope. That sounded desperate.
"Hey. Wyd?"
Nopeeee. That was desperate in a whole other direction he was, admittedly, not ready for.
"Wassup? Me! If you need to chat with me, reach out. I'll check my phone again at the end of July."
Huh. That's unnecessarily vague.
He stared at that one for a long second and then erased it.
"I'm going out of town. No signal for a while, gonna be unplugged. I'll miss your smile."
No.
May as well die if he sent that one as it was.
Kyle erased the last sentence and then hit send. Anxiety built in his bones, but the read receipt didn't come for several seconds. Then another few. Then another.
He frowned, cursing his pathetic attitude and then stared at the empty message screen for Terry. Their last text had been three and a half weeks ago, when Kyle'd sent a shitty Naruto meme. Terry had opened it, which was more than he could say for Alexandra, but was it weird that this annoyed him more? He hadn't replied, and they'd known each other since they were six.
"Hey. School's out, and I'm out of town with Gabriel! Be back soon."
… No. It felt like he was rubbing salt in a wound he hadn't even known was an issue until all this started. So many things were going right for Kyle, and it was difficult to pull away from that feeling to think about Terry's situation.
He scrolled up to the last attempt he'd made to make things better, a message from what felt like ages ago, then felt too embarrassed to even read the message. He'd ended with the message with, "Hey, if I could find my dad after all these years, then surely ur dad will come around."
Terry had taken a half an hour to respond and just sent back, "You don't get it."
The chain of replies afterward were an ugly eyesore, and he ached to delete them just so that he didn't have to see them ever again. The damage had been done, and he cringed every single time he thought of them. Mom had said that he'd come around, but so far, it hadn't gotten any better.
One consolation prize to the whole thing was that he'd gotten marginally closer to Alexandra since he and Terry had begun their beef. It might have been even better, but his mind was swimming in hero outfits, advanced technology, and space stations.
He stared at an empty phone screen for nearly the rest of the bus ride. Alexandra never texted him back, but he considered it a resounding success when the little "Read" finally popped up beside it. Kyle had just about given up on Terry when a notification from him popped up.
"Hey. Have a good trip. Tell me about it when you get back."
He beamed. "Bro, how'd you know?"
"You aren't subtle at all. Like a damn firefly at night."
They hadn't talked for a long time, but Terry still knew he was going to be gone. Kyle laughed to himself, earning an odd look from the same old lady. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she shuffled to another seat, fuming.
"I'll be back at the end of July. Won't be able to talk, but keep me updated."
"On what?" Terry texted quickly.
"On your life, bro!" He sent back immediately. "Make sure you tell me all about the opening night of the Fate movie." They'd been looking forward to it for months, especially with ufotable involved.
"Dude - wru going that u won't be able to see it?"
He stepped off the bus and glanced upward, not at his mid-rise apartment complex but at the sky high above, past the clouds. "It's complicated, but Gabriel wants to surprise me. All I know is that I won't have a signal for a while."
"That's weird but all right."
He exited the stairwell leading to his apartment and put the phone away, admiring the complex's ratty crimson carpet that smelled mildly like cat pee. When he pushed the door open, he looked up, and then blinked.
His mom and Gabriel were definitely holding hands across the table from one another, and Kyle caught them pulling away. Matching coffee mugs still steamed, and the sunlight streamed into the quaint kitchen. It was a nice environment for a shared cup of Joe, and Kyle grinned.
She turned the shade of the hallway carpet outside, while Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's not what it looks like," Mom muttered, and Kyle just laughed.
"Mom, you're almost forty. I do not care."
Kyle did care. A part of him he had previously thought was immature for hoping wanted them to maybe tie the knot. A larger part of him knew that was impossible, given the duties of a Plumber might put Gabriel on the other side of the sector for months at a time.
"We get along well enough," she added.
"I see that. More power to you," he said, then turned to the man in question. "We are still leaving first thing in the morning?"
Gabriel shared a glance with her for a moment, holding her gaze. "That is the plan. Our plane tickets are ready. You have your passport?"
"Got it stored away with the rest of my bag, already packed."
It was quite easy to pack for a trip like this when you could use the fabricator on board the Sector House to easily create anything you might have forgotten, within reasonable limits. It couldn't make everything, but it had a wide array of uses. Clothing and other essentials were easy.
"If you don't bring back pics," his mother warned, "then you'll pay, young man."
Kyle grinned, promising to do his best to get some edited images of different landmarks around the world. Their basic itinerary was almost entirely fake, and they'd need to consider what stories to tell when it was all said and done.
"Pack your summer reading list books," Gabriel demanded.
Kyle scoffed. "All three of us know I'm not going to touch them."
His mom laughed. "You will absolutely bring them, and when you get back, you best be able to quote 1984."
He fought not to roll his eyes and then gestured toward the two of them. "I'm going to go to my room and put in headphones. Y'all do you."
The two of them burned crimson.
Kyle snickered as he slipped into his adjoining room to ready himself. When he finally returned to this room, he expected to be a new man entirely, with some of the Plumber-tech implants and meaningful experience. The summer was a trial run for the rest of his life, and he'd be damned if he let himself fail.
HOUSE OF MYSTERY
MAY 25, 19:33 UTC -7
TEAM YEAR ZERO
Jinx hadn't bothered to wear a glamour charm for the planned dinner, and it was just as well. The House of Mystery was not the kind of place that enjoyed paltry subterfuge, and it was far easier to attempt to remain truthful and honest within its walls, lest you anger its temperament.
A harp played itself lightly in the background, a lilting melody that was discordant compared to the clinking of cutlery against plates. The view outside the windows detailed nothing but Midwestern corn fields for miles. They'd ordered Chinese takeout, enough for everyone who wanted to partake. Kent picked at his food, while Jinx enjoyed every bite as a small boon of hospitality.
The assembled half dozen individuals within this room were among the world's top specialists in different fields of study, not of science but of magic. Jinx was the unlucky number seven, and it was the first time she was meeting any of her mentor's contemporaries. Needless to say, she felt out of place, even if she was the one who truly pushed for this meeting.
At the head of the table – and Arcane Master of the House of Mystery – rested a middle-aged man who apparently was older than Kent. Known by the title of Doctor Occult, Richard's skills lay prominently in divination and utilized them as a detective of supernatural cases. He studied the food on his plate in a clinical manner, picking out the pieces of meat from the rest.
Across from Kent sat a woman who was demure and downcast despite the beauty that existed within her features effortlessly. Jinx had difficulty not staring at the blonde elf-like woman who claimed to be Titania, queen of the land of Faerie. It surprised Jinx slightly that she had not demanded to sit at the head of the table, or at least across from Occult on the opposite side. More strangely, Kent had recently returned from a trip to Faerie – how closely connected were the two of them?
Next to her and trying desperately not to appear out of place was a pudgy man of little consequence. Jinx had yet to figure out if there was anything special about him in particular, apart from the phantom that possessed his body, Boston Brand. Regardless, the "Deadman" scarfed down food like he'd not eaten before, and Jinx supposed you might not have if you were in his shoes.
Sitting on her side of the table was the famed Jason Blood, perhaps second only in age to Titania. The redhead with a streak of white in his hair was notable for something bound to his soul – a rhyming demon called Etrigan. Jinx had long decided not to question Kent Nelson and his friends, and she wasn't sure if the fey creature or the half-demon scared her more.
The last member of the assembled troupe was one she knew well, if only by reputation. Kent had made it very clear that she should be wary of each person at the table, but perhaps none more so than the blond brit in a trench-coat, John Constantine. The man was the youngest of the lot, apart from herself, and she pegged him as barely a college graduate. He didn't eat but instead smoked a cigar, ignoring any japes.
Jinx tried to keep up with their small talk, but small talk to a group of magicians who dealt with otherworldly issues or were from other worlds often was anything but small. They'd discussed the weather across the realms, caught up with local and extralocal sports, and it was wild to hear.
"How goes the goblin market these days? I hear prices have become mixed."
Titania scoffed at Brand's question, the possessed man forced to puppet Deadman's wishes. "They'd always look that way to someone whose soul is so bound."
"Hey, bound is beautiful, baby. I'm worth a killin'."
They continued catching up, and Jinx leaned over to her mentor Kent and whispered, "Who all is missing?"
"I extended an invite to these and several others," the man whispered back. "I thought Giovanni was a shoe-in, but League business."
"I don't know why he bothers," Constantine interrupted, a wide cloud of smoke billowing in the air to form near perfect rings. "He should be focused on 'imself, not throwing prestidigitation around like it means something."
Jinx hummed in agreement. "What have any of them ever done for any of us?"
Kent bristled, and for a moment, the energy of the room stalled as each guest took in what she'd said. Jinx realized a half-second too late that this was the first comment she'd made to the whole group, and her cheeks burned hot.
"I used to think that," Brand suggested, "but then I realized that if I'm gonna move on, I gotta make up for all of my misdeeds."
"Trust the one without a heart to be a bleedin' one," Constantine taunted. "How far 'as that got ya?"
"Hey, John, lay off my ass. I'm getting closer! I can feel it!" The deadman declared, before gratefully shifting the attention back to Kent Nelson. "Speaking of closer, how about the ol' bucket?"
Jinx raised an eyebrow and caught Kent's eye. The man chuckled. "I will find a suitable replacement for Nabu."
Doctor Occult glanced toward Jinx and then gestured toward the rest. "In the interest of honesty, we are not on your short list, are we?"
The conversation halted as the assembled circle hung on Kent's next words carefully.
"No, I've narrowed all of you out of the equation for a multitude of reasons."
That satisfied, to different measures Jinx decided, the group, but she considered why.
Jinx thought of the Helmet of Fate, the physical medium through which a Lord of Order called Nabu would possess the body of its wearer and become the entity known as Doctor Fate. She didn't know all the details on how it worked, what it meant, nor had she even seen the artifact herself. All she really knew was that Kent had spent a considerable time in the past few months to find a suitable inheritor for the role as the Helmet's caretaker.
Deadman didn't have a head to wear the Helmet.
Jinx knew from reputation alone that Constantine would be too stubborn to accept the burden.
Titania did not have the temperament for an Orderly spirit to commune with her, if what Jinx had heard of the Fae was true.
Etrigan was the big obstacle for Jason Blood, because a Lord of Order could not possibly enjoy interacting with something so of Hell. Jinx knew the man collected items of powerful arcana, safeguarded them from prying eyes. Maybe if it was just going to continue to sit on a shelf, he might be a good fit as caretaker.
Doctor Occult could, maybe, handle it. She knew little about the man, but of those here, he was the safest option.
"Even the girl?"
Her eyes widened at Titania's interest.
"Oh, no, I couldn't-"
"Shouldn't, either," Constantine grumbled. "Girl's stuffed to the gills with chaos."
The girl couldn't quite believe what he'd said. To be so… reduced?
"Jinx is a student," Kent clarified, "not an heir."
"It is about time we get into the purpose of this gathering," Blood surmised. "Kent, taking on a student at this stage of your life is not advised."
Jinx frowned. "What? Everyone can't be blessed with eternal youth."
"Sure you can." Titania smirked. "Come to Faerie, dearheart, and I'll show you."
She tried and failed to hide her shudder. "I'll pass."
Though it did intrigue her. If Titania had a method to restore youth, why didn't Kent take it? If Occult were truly older, what had he done to stay not a day over forty-five? Even death didn't seem a deterrent, if Boston Brand proved anything.
She'd ask him later.
"I am the one who wanted to meet you all," Jinx suggested, earning an interesting look from each of them. "During my studies, I have had interesting… signs pointing me to something ancient. At first, I ignored them, but every time I practiced divining spells with Kent, there was at least a forty percent chance that the results would revolve around this."
She pulled a photograph from her pocket and slid it across the table. Brand, with his host's sticky fingers, grabbed for it first. It made its way around the table, each of them taking the time to glance over its details.
"I took this from an exhibit in London," she explained as the photograph returned to her hand. Depicted in as exacting detail as any camera might, the rune-stitched sash with five almost hexagonal places missing from its structure. "This is where my spells pointed me, but I have hit a dead end. I can't read the runes in the fabric, I can't figure out what should go in each of those slots, and the Tower doesn't listen to me to just give me what I want."
Kent held their gazes for a moment. "Jinx thought I should call on some of my contacts to see if you could illuminate her curiosities."
Blood's forehead creased with thought. "Kent, you called a meeting here to show off some paltry piece your student found?"
Titania agreed. "Seems rather strange. There are many pieces of Artifice in my vaults that I have never saw fit to share with you all, nor with anyone else."
"I'm not sharing," Jinx said simply. "Whatever this turns out to be, it's mine."
Constantine's smoke filled the space in front of him, twisting into hexagonal shapes before dissipating. "Be careful what you wish for, girlie. An old acquaintance kept getting these visions of an old blade every time he was knackered. Didn't have a lick of magic potential in him, but he kept seeing it while pukin' out his guts. When he finally found the sword, he's now nothing more than a drunk puppet for a seraphim."
Jinx raised an eyebrow, but Blood clarified. "An angel."
She didn't know what that had to do with anything.
Blood met her eyes as he continued. "The warning is a valid one. You may seek out the secrets of this sash only to find more than you expected on the other end. Bargaining with such risks can lead to any number of problems."
"It is often better to stick to what power you already have," Occult added. "I am by far the least powerful mage here, even compared to someone like yourself from the stories I've heard."
"What stories?" Jinx interrupted.
"I have spoken about your talents, Jinx," Kent explained. "Doctor Occult is right. Power and skill are two very different things. A novice skilled with ten weapons I fear less than a master of one. Richard is very good at what he does."
She considered her own abilities. An innate potential for both natural, elemental magic and chaos magic, as Constantine so eloquently put it. She could ignite fires, could command waves, could stir winds, could force someone to have a very unlucky day. She'd wanted to learn everything she could from Kent, a master of Order Magic with its codified rituals and rules. Her mentor could produce all of the same effects she did, but the methodology would be funneled through his special brand of Order magic.
Jinx had no specialty.
Commanding the elements was as easy as breathing, so long as she had bare feet on the ground and was in the right environment. She was powerless without an earthly connection, and far less accomplished within the heart of a city.
Comparatively, she could jinx anyone or anything at any time, hexing them to have worse luck she could sometimes exploit in her favor. She was not so limited with environment, but the scope and impact of her jinxes were far less than her elemental control.
"I should specialize."
Titania giggled. "Why limit yourself to only one branch? Given enough time, you could have roots in many such fields and be as strong and wide as a forest!" The photograph fluttered into the sylvan woman's long, immaculate fingers. "Seek out the sash and its secrets."
Brand's host nodded fervently, chopstick sticking from his lips and soy sauce dripping from his chin. "I think you should go for it. If fate's telling ya to find it, you don't wanna leave it unfinished."
"Bah. I'm surprised your student's already gone power-mad," Constantine huffed.
"I have not!" she shouted. "I don't even know what the sash is! You're all assuming it's something powerful. Because, because… because you have an idea what it is."
Jinx studied each of them in turn, not sure which of them knew the most. When no one said anything for several seconds, she angled her ire toward Kent. "Which of them knows and isn't saying?"
Blood cleared his throat. She whipped her head to her left so fast that it almost hurt. "There is much I cannot explain, promised to oaths that must be unbroken. What I can say, Jinx, is that those who have followed in the path to this power have invariably led to their own demise."
"Oaths to who?" She challenged. Blood wouldn't- couldn't- say. "This is just stupid. What's so important about a piece of cloth?"
She'd find whatever else she could about this thing, if only to prove they were overreacting.
WATCHTOWER
MAY 25, 22:16 UTC -7
TEAM YEAR ZERO
Diana settled into the conference room alongside several on-duty Leaguers and some in the civilian attire of Man's World. Barry Allen dressed as though he was late for work to his police precinct, while Shayera paced back and forth in little more than a loose yellow tracksuit. Lantern Stewart was a mere green light projection while off-world, while J'onn fiddled with the Oan device to ensure that the projection would hold, several extra arms helping him to manage its complex machinery. Bruce arranged a multitude of files onto the League's holographic computer display, to reveal all that they knew, while Clark leaned against the wall, clearly locked in thought while his eyes took in the Earth, rotating far below them.
Scattered headlines, eyewitness accounts, and summaries of their own proteges' encounters arranged in a mismatched pattern of different sources. Amidst the center of the display was the Daily Planet article, the best-compiled description of this new figure on the scene. It matched with what Diana had heard from her own sister.
"A pattern."
Diana followed Bruce's eyes and fingers as several key points began to highlight across the various screens. Red Arrow in Star City's attack from Plastisque. Aqualad's struggle against Trident in the Indian Ocean. Troia's encounter with the "Angle Man" in Europe.
Shayera tilted her head. "High-profile cases, each with a meta attached."
Bruce shook his head. "Not all of his thwarted crimes. A vast majority of them are street-level conflicts in and around Manhattan. Muggings, drug operations, car thefts."
The display expanded outward to include a collection of accounts and police reports detailing an unmasked blond teenager flying swiftly and methodically to respond to crises, big and small. His first case, or the earliest recorded case, involved a helicopter jacking in the streets of Manhattan.
"What do you notice?"
Bruce's question sends them into a flurry of speculation.
"The kid looks thirteen. Fifteen, max," Barry surmised.
"So young," the Martian suggested. "Too young to be operating alone."
"No uniform to speak of," Shayera added. "He's worn something different in each picture. Suggests he either doesn't have money to make something better, doesn't have contacts in the community to make a better suit, or doesn't want to make a splash. The last one worries me."
Diana frowned. "Why would that concern you?"
"C'mon, princess. He could be anywhere, any time. Bruiser has some flashy powers, but he could be hiding in plain sight doing plenty with just the strength. Plenty we don't see."
"My sister fought alongside him. Are you suggesting that it is wrong for her to trust him?"
"I'm not suggesting anything," Shayera barked. "We don't know where he came from. Bruce, any ideas? Is it technology or something else?"
Before Bruce could respond, Barry snickered. "If I didn't know any better, Clark, I'd say he's-"
"Not mine," Clark declared firmly. "If I had a son, you'd all know. He'd be my pride and joy."
Diana nodded at that, picturing it in her mind. The handful of visits to Smallville alone told her that the boy would have been in good hands, would have been raised right. Martha and Jonathan were good role models for Clark to follow.
"As for his abilities," Bruce surmised, pulling up a document for all to read, "I think it's highly likely to be biological in origin. My scanners do not indicate any tech. Giovanni suggested that it may be a result of sorcery, as the transmutation of his skin into different materials reminded him of alchemy, but he found no obvious signs of mystical power either."
"Kid looks like an alien to me."
Everyone glanced toward the projection of Lantern Stewart, who waved off the attention. "I'd have to scan him in person to check my databases, but you don't operate in the cosmos without picking up on the differences between humans and aliens. He's close to human, but his skin is a shade too pink and his arms and fingers are too long. There's also a ridge around his eyes, if you know what to look for."
Bruce managed the details on the screens until some of the photographs and video clips from phone cameras and news broadcasts highlighted the places Stewart mentioned. And, strangely enough, Diana could see the differences now that she knew what to see.
Clark shifted closer to stare for a long moment. "What planet, John?"
Stewart rubbed his chin. "Not one I'm familiar with, but space is huge. Call in Jordan, have him check it out."
Clark seemed satisfied with that, and then turned to the rest. "What's more concerning to me is that he slipped by us. How'd he land here without us noticing, and is he alone?"
"He seems friendly," Barry added. "If he isn't alone, maybe the rest of his pals are just as strong and just as friendly. We could use some more guys like him."
"I don't trust it," Shayera said simply. "Katar and I have dealt with well-meaning visitors before, on Thanagar. Sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. Even if he's alone, he's already proven to be incredibly fast, deadly tough, and can breathe air and water. We could be dealing with a serious issue."
"Or a potential ally," J'onn suggested. "Is it so wrong to hope?"
Diana shook her head. "No, but if he is an ally, he needs more guidance. The incident in India concerns me."
Bruce cleared his throat audibly. "More concerning to me is the pattern."
Diana and the others waited for the Batman to explain what he meant.
"Each minor incident involved typical police radio chatter beforehand," he began.
"Huh. That's how I started. The good old days." Barry chuckled.
"Those incidents are all concentrated in New York," Bruce continued.
Oh.
Diana put the pieces together in her mind. "And the incidents outside of New York each involved a protege." Or the equivalent, in Troia's case – the girl had not joined Diana in fighting crime, though she'd now had a taste.
Clark leaned forward. "He sought out the sidekicks. Why?"
Bruce tapped the screens to close the data displays, shifting the light in the conference room back to a deeper, natural color. "Unclear, but if we are to understand him better, perhaps there is a solution."87