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To the attention of the readers who enjoy reading an intelligent main character like Miles will definitely like my original story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Metropolis
Beckett Residence
She didn't know how long she was gazing at the ceiling. Her blurry vision slowly cleared up, as did her sluggish mind. She pushed herself up and almost fell out of the bed. The usual weight of the restraints wasn't there.
She wasn't alone in the room.
The Big Guy, Snow White, Old Man, and Blondie were there too, each sleeping in their beds.
"Hey, hey, wake up," she said, shaking the Old Man first. He grunted something unintelligible first. When she resorted to slapping him lightly, he finally opened his eyes. They were unfocused, but seeing her face, he rose to his feet.
"What's happening? Where are we?" he asked, examining the room. It certainly wasn't a cell. Unless the sick bastards came up with a new experiment.
She shook her head. "I don't know. Quick, we need to get the others up and leave this place."
"Yeah, you're right."
One by one, they shook the remaining members awake. There wasn't time to explain anything, not that they knew what was happening. Rather than the door, they decided to take the window. Big Guy was about to get out first when the door opened.
A girl, one whose bored, gloomy face would match hers, floated there. The five of them froze at the sight.
"You guys are awake? Good. Come down, we are having breakfast," she said and turned around, leaving. It caught them off guard. A metahuman that roamed this place freely?
Where the heck had they woken up?
"Uhhh, should we?" Snow White asked, rubbing her growling stomach.
The Big Guy's nose twitched, a faint smell of something sweet and appetizing in the air. "I mean, she is like us, right? Maybe we can hear her out."
"What the heck? Why not?" Old Man said, creating a ball of fire over his hand. "Since we don't have those damn cuffs, we can fight our way out."
He walked out first. Seeing nothing wrong with his reasoning, they followed him down.
—
"Good morning. Hungry? Take a seat, they'll be ready any second," a light brown-haired man asked, barely turning around to greet them before he was flipping a pancake.
The Old Man took a step forward as the self-proclaimed leader. "Who are you guys?"
"Right, introductions," he said, wiping his hands on his apron. "I am Miles; these are Claire, Baraka, Zalika, and Raven," he said, pointing at each person in the room. There was a "Yo" from Baraka and a "Good Morning" from Zalika while Claire gave a quick nod.
"Where are we?" the youngest member of the group asked. She was playing with the chair but didn't sit.
"In Metropolis. We snatched you out of the plane on its way to Alaska," he said, taking another pancake off the pan, letting the red haired woman pour another ladle full.
Blondie slapped a hand to his head, memories of their latest ordeal rushing to his mind. "I remember now. We were being transported." They were drugged, cuffed, and loaded onto a plane. They knew nothing about Alaska, though.
"Yes. The Director of Cadmus thought it would be safer to imprison you in Alaska after we intervened in her business more than once."
Snow White raised her hands, motioning at him to stop. "You freed us? Why?"
"To free five people held prisoners due to the government's illicit affairs and screw up that manatee, of course."
"That's it?" Snow White asked, crossing her arms. That sounded like total bullshit.
Their host smirked, putting down another plate on the table. "Yes."
Big Guy shook his head, wiping the droll of the side of his lips. "Listen, I don't know what you are playing at but I am not buying it."
Miles put the last plate on the table, pointing at the door behind them. "Sure. The door's there. Just don't cause any trouble outside. The government is looking for you everywhere."
She tilted her head, eyes half-lidded. "You are letting us go?"
"You are not prisoners here. You just needed a place to sleep off the drugs."
"This is sooo weird," she said, turning back at her friends. The Old Man frowned but agreed.
He took his seat, thanking the gothic metahuman as she poured them freshly squeezed fruit juice. "If you guys agree to stay for breakfast, I am sure I can clear this up for you."
She sat down, reaching for the pancakes. She remembered eating them when she was younger, much younger. Her fellow metahumans sat down as well, still watching the man cooking up a storm.
The first butter-and-honey-covered bite had tears welling up in her eyes.
—
There wasn't much to explain to them. Cadmus, a shadowy government organization led by Amanda Waller, wanted to make weapons out of them. His self determined job was to sabotage the efforts of people such as Waller. They boarded the plane, knocked everyone out and escaped without leaving a clue behind.
"Why aren't you afraid of us? " Ace, or rather, Angelica, asked. He had discovered their names before Cadmus reduced them to Test Subjects One to Five.
"Why should I be?" he asked, crossing his legs.
"We are metahumans. Most people, even our parents, were scared of us," Angelica said, looking down.
Claire lit up flames over her palm, Baraka absorbed it, creating the rainbow effect on his hand. Zalika was content to access the TV, projecting herself on the screen. "The three of us are metahumans too," Claire said.
Timothy, the would be self proclaimed leader of the Royal Flush Gang, turned to Raven. "What about her?"
"I am a half-demon. My father is a devil who has conquered and enslaved thousands of words and wants to do the same to Earth," Raven said in that bored tone of hers, displaying some of her more demonic traits as proof.
Their gazes turned blank. What could they say to that?
"My parents sent me to a facility to control my powers. The government snatched me to turn me into a weapon," Claire said, flames dancing between her fingers, and a blaze burning in her eyes.
Zalika brought the Korogocho slums to the screen. "We were being forced to work for a gang. Would have died if it wasn't for him."
"And you? What are you?" Jack, the only member whose name was also his codename, asked. His narrowed eyes showed he still was suspicious.
He shrugged. "A baseline human. No powers except for my mind and some tricks up my sleeve." Of course, his tricks involved manipulating cosmic entities, but it was neither here nor there.
Orlando sat down next to Angelica. "What now?"
"You are free to go and try your luck outside. Alternatively, I can offer the five of you a job," he said. It was time for the next step of Ivy's work. The main reasons for the famines in Africa weren't because they couldn't grow crops. It was because of economic mismanagements, poor policy and policymakers and most importantly, conflicts. He would start a new movement to restructure the poor, war ridden countries in the continent into functioning nations. It would be through infrastructural investments and putting an end to the conflicts.
The five metahumans before him would protect Ivy's efforts in the region as she would lead a team to solve the famine. Both on the field and on the table.
"We want revenge first, not a job," the white-haired ferrokinetic said, her lips set in a snarl. Monica would be more difficult to convince than the others.
He regarded her with a short glance. "Amanda Waller will get what she deserves, but it'll be at the right time. Until then, you'll need a source of income to survive."
"Why not just kill her and be done with it?" For so long, Timothy wanted to put a name to the target of their fury. Now that they had, they couldn't kill her.
"Because she is replaceable. I know her, which makes it easier to counter her movements. If she suddenly ended up with a bullet in her head, someone else just as lacking in morals would take her place the next day. Then I would be dealing with the devil I don't know."
He slammed his foot on the ground, growling like a raging animal. He hated that he was right.
"The job is simple. You will be protecting my overseas assets, specifically in Africa. Two hundred thousand dollars a year each, in addition to having all your basic needs covered. When the time comes, you'll also take your piece of Waller's hide," he said, pitching his offer. Better to work for him than to be Joker's minions.
"Or I can find each of you a job in whatever field you are interested in," he added. He wasn't going to treat them as weapons, but if they didn't want to fight, they wouldn't.
Baraka raised a finger, winking at Claire. "Or you can try your hand at robbing a bank," he said, remembering Miles' reasoning behind why it was so illogical.
Claire clicked her tongue. "I wouldn't recommend it. Superman would be on your neck before you guys could leave the bank," she said. They were strong, stronger than her on average. It still wouldn't stop the Boy Scout. He was already unbeatable to most without taking it seriously.
When he did take it seriously, there was a reason Miles said why Darkseid was specifically targeting him.
"Why are you so nice to us?" Angelica asked. She didn't remember the last time anyone except her friends treated her with kindness. It was nice, like standing out in the open after being caged for so long.
His gaze wavered for the first time as he saw her vulnerable look. She would need to see a geneticist to prevent her death. "I want to create a world where a government can't and won't take children to turn them into weapons because of a system of exploitation based on fear."
"Nice sales pitch," Jack snorted. That was straight out of a fairytale book.
There was a knock on the door. Claire left to answer, returning with a thick brown envelope.
Miles shook his head. "I am not selling anything. I can't give you your stolen years back. I can only make sure the one responsible for it faces you. "Take my offer or leave it," he said. Claire opened the envelope, holding five cards out.
"Your IDs. I am simply returning what is yours," he said before they could ask for an explanation.
They took them with hesitation. "Give us a minute," Orlando said, gathering his friends together. They returned to the kitchen, glancing back as they did.
"Take your time," he called out.
There was a notification sound from Zalika's laptop. She got up, checked it, and cursed. "The monitoring system caught Joker near Vegas. He is traveling incognito in a rented car."
He sighed, imagining wrangling the clown's neck. He called Batman, waiting for him to answer. When he did, the sound of fighting was clear in the background. "I can call later."
"You wouldn't have if it wasn't important. What happened?"
"Joker, he is approaching Vegas," he said, turning to Zalika for details. "He's creating a shell company for some reason. We are tracking him, let me know when you are free."
To break the metahumans out and prepare his groundwork for his sick games in Vegas, Joker would need time. He would have to be in Vegas weeks before the episode took place.
There were no indications from Batman, but by the sound of the crunching bone, he wasn't pleased. "I'll get to him as soon as we are done here. Keep me posted."
"On it, good luck and say hi to Robin."
"Thanks."
"Why can't we go and bust that bastard's bones?" Baraka asked. If there was anyone on Earth that deserved the same treatment as Vandal Savage, it was the Joker.
His face was blank as he answered. "Because if I see his stupid grin one more time, I'll throw him in a wood chipper."
Baraka shuddered, imagining the sight for a second.
Their guests returned from the kitchen. Timothy approached first, speaking for everyone. "Alright, we are in. When can we get to Waller though?"
"In a year, a month or two after the elections," he said. Amanda would find herself out of a job soon after Robert was the next POTUS.
Tim shrugged. It would do for now.
"First of all, we'll need to get you to a specialist for a checkup," he said. Whether Ace's evolution and eventual death were a natural evolutionary result of DNA or Cadmus' interference, she needed help. The sooner the better.
Monica frowned at the thought of more medical research involving them. Her friends weren't any better. "What? Why?"
"I guarantee you, with the kind of people Waller employs and the experiments they carried out on you, There is bound to be something wrong with your bodies that isn't apparent yet," he said. It was a valid concern beyond Angelica's fate.
Orlando sighed."I don't want to admit it but he can be right." They survived the numerous vials injected into their veins. It didn't change the fact that pain was involved.
A lot of it.
"Please, I am always right," he said, already dialing Michael's number.
—
Las Vegas
He waited outside the motel room Joker was renting.
Not only had he escaped Arkham, again, he had decided to leave Gotham. While everyone searched for him in the city, he would have been free to act as he wished. Unfortunately for the Clown Prince of Crime, his little trip was about to reach its end.
He knocked on the door, listening. Footsteps, almost silent, walked closer and closer until they stopped. He kicked the door in, sending it and the Joker flying inside. He walked in, jaw tight, eyes narrowed.
"Batman?! How did you?" Joker asked, his stupid grin gone. His eyes were wide open and he was slow to act.
He answered the question with a kick so hard, Joker's head bounced off the ground once. The hit had knocked him out and he allowed a rare smile to cross his lips. Damn if it didn't feel good to get the drop on Joker like this. Jim had already contacted the local authorities and he could hear the sirens approaching.
He searched the Clown, taking his gadgets and weapons away, restraining him with plenty of Batrope. Once certain there would be no escape, he went further inside, searching for clues. Unraveling Joker's plan was as vital as capturing him.
Fortunately, by the sight of the explosive components laying around, he had arrived early. There was a recurring number on the Clown's phone. A quick search showed it belonged to a television network executive. The shell company was most likely a way to appear as a legitimate entity to stream his latest crime on live television.
He breathed out long and slow.
—
In the next chapter:
"What's the deal with them?" Michael whispered, reading the results of the scans. A late-night message from Miles and an early-morning arrival at his lab for a full medical checkup were unexpected. He was worried something had happened to the man.
It was worse.
The five metahumans had foreign chemicals and organic agents in their bodies. Most were attempts to increase their power levels. There was more than one sample consistent with chemical brainwashing methods. The data he pulled out suggested they were meant to make the subject more malleable to subliminal suggestions.
Someone was trying to make these five into weapons from a very young age.
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