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#1
OCT 11 |
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The Nation of Pokolistan
Bordering the Czech Republic, Poland and Germany
There must’ve been thousands of them…slimly, sickly white monstrosities that swarmed over each other like ants in an orgy as they crashed through the border of the tiny country of Pokolistan. Without warning and with the force of a tsunami they came, leaving a growing wake of destruction in their path as they moved toward the center of the nation’s capital at abnormal speed. They were drawn, normally, to places of great religious reverence that held items of adoration and worship. In the case of Pokolistan they were drawn to the massive Bohemian castle that overlooked the nation for another reason entirely, but the feelings of devotion, obedience and idolization were just as strong and so like what these demon’s were dedicated to destroying that they couldn’t help their attraction to the nation at the sake of ignoring the larger targets around it.
The ancient stone two story buildings that lined the square in front of the castle lay in rubble and ruin, thick wooden beams were cracked and obliterated into splinters and massive black plumes of smoke billowed from their burning frames. Blood stained the cobblestone streets as their gnarled toenails scraped tiny trenches into the smooth, aged surface. Several of them climbed and clawed at the tall crystal statue of the country’s leader while several hundred more danced in the flames of the fires they lit as still others desecrated the gray flags that staked his rule of Pokolistan with acidic urine.
They were so excitedly focused on their task of annihilation that they didn’t notice the appearance of a red armored figure that hovered in the air above them. The edges of his eyes shriveled in disgust at the sheer site of these demonic abominations, as if their very existence was an affront to his own, and it took every bit of his solar spawned strength to keep the bile from rising to his throat. He didn’t know what they were or what they wanted but it was if, he surmised as he observed them, the horde had simply appeared out of nowhere to defile his land and violate the symbols that marked his claim to it.
His lips pulled apart in a wild sneer as he snarled in defiance to these grotesque creatures. They had viciously torn at his nation with their yellowed claws with neither care nor concern to the authority of the man who ruled it and he knew they would dare try to do the same to him if they could. They had challenged his power and offended him with their life and General Dru-Zod was all too willing to show them the error of their ways. These monsters deserved nothing less than to be put down. Violently.
“You dare pollute my land with your gross, perverse presence?!” Zod roared as he crashed to the ground with the power of a large bomb. The force of the shockwave from impact sent several dozen Lilin into the air where they scattered about like discarded trash before brutally landing back on to the ground in a broken, tangled mess of body parts. Those directly underneath of him were reduced to nothing more than black goo, smashed like an ant by an asteroid.
At the sound of the blast all of the Lilin snapped their heads up from whatever brutality they were performing to look at the man that knelt alone in the center of the sizeable crater. Zod slowly rose to his impressive full height with the red Kryptonian battle armor adding to his already imposing posture and his flowing red cape to his regality. He silently cast his gaze through green tinted lenses upon the horde of demons as he proclaimed boldly, “Well, foul beasts, what are you waiting for? Come, meet your death at the hands of Zod!”
Eager to accept the General’s invitation the Lilin charged, their calloused feet digging into the ground in anticipation of feeling the alien’s blood on their tongues. Zod met them head on and disappeared from the crater in an instant as his body broke the sound barrier, cutting through the mass of monsters like a scythe, his hands dealing out merciless death as promised. Zod’s armored hand squeezed the neck of a Lilin and tore its head free from his body as if it were wet tissue paper and, with the full extent of his strength, he threw the freshly decapitated head through the chest of a demon and several of those in the direct path of the head behind it.
Zod reached back and pulled a Lilin that had jumped on his back off and tossed it away from him. It had sailed over a hundred yards in the air before twin blasts of red hot fury exploded the demon upon contact and showered the others below with gray blood. With sadistic delight several of the creatures lapped with black tongues the fresh cold blood off their distorted appendages.
It had been several centuries since the day Dru-Zod had joined the Kryptonian Military and never in that immense time span had he ever been involved in such a brutal battle as this. Mainly because Krypton’s last war had been almost one hundred and fifty thousand years before he was born at the twilight of the sixth age, but also because of the genetic locks placed on his people he couldn’t leave Krypton to battle the alien cultures around him. As the remaining few hundred swarmed him General Zod grinned with a twisted joy at finally being able to take out all of those years of pent up aggression on these offensive creatures.
The Empty Space
Superman’s eyes fluttered open, weakly, for the third time in God only knows how long it had been since the overwhelming pain he was constantly being subjected to had taken his consciousness away from him the first time*. He lay, as he had for what could be countless hours or untold days, unmoving in a tangled mess of broken limbs and in a pool of blood, sweat, bile and other bodily fluids preferably left unmentioned. It was difficult for him to feel that familiar bite of cold that he had felt when he first arrived here as his body had grown too numb to even feel the uncomfortable rock underneath his molted skin.
*Crisis ad Infinitum #3 - EF
There just wasn’t any sort of measurable strength left in his battered and abused body. He didn’t even have the will to move a single toe on his bare foot, not that he would even know if he did move it to make it worth it to do it. His gaze was straight up into black nothingness. There might’ve been a source of light somewhere outside of his line of sight to make what he could see possible, but he couldn’t turn his head to see it. Not that his mind was working that well begin with as it struggled to process and forget the violation and torture he had endured for what could’ve been a week straight.
A single wet tear had puddled in the corner of his eye before it swelled and ran down the side of his head. An image of his wife and lover, Lois Lane, had formed in his head, likely the only reason he had left for why he had held on to life for as long as he had. Whatever part of him that felt it easier to let go and die to move beyond this humiliation had been beaten back by the determination to return home to feel her embrace and erase the filth he felt covered in.
A sick film had formed and dried on his lips from her tongue, the tongue of the Demon Mother known as Lilith…the first woman ever created that had returned to exact her revenge on all of creation had wanted to bolster her demon army with others that shared in his power. She had effortlessly taken everything from Superman that she had needed, including his pride.
From the other corner of his eye he saw something, a silhouette of what could have been another figure, shift slightly. Superman fought to recall from his damaged psyche if there was something or somebody down here with him. He just couldn’t remember anymore. A soft purple light began to glow from what turned out to be the shaking fist of the other hero that had been discarded like so much used trash on the ground next to him.
Icon sucked in a painful breath of stale air as he pushed himself up with his other hand. His alien physique was naturally tough and it didn’t depend on other outside sources to fuel it like his counterpart next to him. Sooner or later Icon’s body would pull itself together and repair the damage inflicted upon it with whatever latent and native shape shifting abilities he controlled.
Not that the hero from Dakota was confident that he would return to full strength any time soon. Something here had drained nearly every bit of power from him, from his power of flight to invulnerability. And that was evident from what he could see by the light weakly generated by his right hand. His red costume was torn to nearly nothing and left almost none of his dignity covered. Dried blood scabbed over the hundreds of lacerations that decorated his coffee-colored skin.
When he looked over at Superman he could tell that his friend was in even worse shape: every limb was broken, snapped and bent in ways they shouldn’t be pointed in. His left leg was in the worse shape of all as bone protruded from his torn calf muscle. He would have feared that the Kryptonian was dead...if not for the very faint rising and falling of his barreled chest.
There was an odd chill in the air and a weird humming that vibrated through his bones. With caution, Icon found the will to power his energized fist a little more and, with the increased illumination, Icon’s heart nearly stopped dead in his chest as he saw all around him weird, massive insect like creatures chattering mere feet from the pair.
Icon muttered softly, “Oh, well this ain’t good...”
With a continuous blast of heat vision, Zod cut a wedge into the herd that incinerated a dozen or more demons and bubbled the sinewy skin of others within feet of the scorching heat. Lilin screamed in pain as their flesh burned, the stench filling the air and the several hundred corpses covered the ancient European ground nearly three deep with piles of others scattered about.
Zod’s armor had taken quite the beating over the course of the past ten minutes or so, but the alien metal forged under the castle from matter skimmed from the Phantom Zone held up to the bashing it endured well enough to continue protecting the Kryptonian underneath. The cape was all but torn free from the armor and one of the green lenses had managed to get shattered, but compared to the scene around him Zod fared well. His fingers gripped a demon under its distorted jawbone and he hurled it over two hundred yards into the stone side of the castle.
“You animals fight well, but not out of skill or finesse,” Zod stated as his fist connected with the chest of a Lilin that rushed him from the side; the impact caved the creatures bones in. “What you lack in strategy and art will be your undoing.”
His hands clamped onto the arms off of the next demon destined for death. The Lilin’s hands struggled to remove the General’s unyielding grip but, before Zod could tear the limbs free from its body, he felt the creature’s struggles slacken and it’s black gaze distracted by something in the sky. That didn’t stop Zod from following through on his intent as he tore the arms off in a display of sheer brutality before he looked around and noticed that all of the Lilin were looking to the sky.
Zod turned and he, like his enemies, cast his eyes upward to see two figures slowly descending upon them: one was the Martian Manhunter – a figure that Zod had little personal experience with but he was familiar with his kind – and a woman that Zod had never seen before or had ever heard of, whose face was half covered by a white mask though, from what was exposed, Zod could tell that she was relatively attractive. She wore dark blue battle armor with a sword hanging off her hip, and from the way she carried herself it was apparent that she was skilled and eager to use it.
They settled softly onto the stained ground and the woman stepped forward and cast her gaze across the battlefield with piercing and judgmental eyes. The Kryptonian may not have known who this woman was but it was obvious that the Lilin did, as her name was whispered from their split, scabby lips.
“Mazikeen...”
They were drawing back away from her as she walked towards them almost as if she were physically repelling them like two magnets with the same pole facing each other.
“You will leave here immediately! Or those that stay will not die by his hand, but by mine!” she warned with an odd strength in her voice that projected it evenly and farther than humanly possible. And it wasn’t a warning that needed to be issued twice as the remaining few hundred had disappeared from the country faster than they had appeared. An odd silence had fallen over the area as the General watched the woman known as Mazikeen step through the now empty square toward his castle.
He motioned to protest and challenge the newcomer when a hand on his shoulder interrupted his motion. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Martian Manhunter warned. “She’s not in the mood to suffer fools.”
“Why are you here, Ma’aleca’andraian?” Zod asked.
If J’Onn were surprised by the General’s use of his specie’s proper name then he hid it well; now wasn’t the time for the Martian Manhunter to be interested in what the Kryptonian knew of his world. “We have need of your technology,” the Martian Manhunter hesitated, uncomfortable with the words he would speak next, “if we wish to see Superman alive again.”
Elsewhere
They dug for what felt like miles with no ending to their hurried task yet near. They didn’t tire, they couldn’t afford too, as they rushed to reach their destination. They didn’t honestly know why they dug or what called to their instinct to bury themselves in the ground, but they just knew they had to. Maybe some sort of ancient intuition had awoken itself in this strange time, much like how most animals just know when it’s time to migrate from one continent to another.
To the one in the lead of the pack she could feel a weird sense tingling in the front of her mind, directing her and the others toward where they needed to be. Whatever it was, she could feel it pulling on her more and so she dug faster, pulling away from the others behind her.
“I had noticed that Superman was missing when I joined the rest of the League over Paris Island, but the events leading to the Islands destruction passed by too quickly before I could address my concern,” the Martian Manhunter explained as he descended the stone stairs that lead deeper into the bowels of Zod’s castle. They trailed behind the determined Mazikeen, who had strode through the castle with an air of ownership that had the General glaring at her back with anger at being lead through his residence as if he were a stranger to it.
“We helplessly watched Paris Island be destroyed,” J’Onn continued, “and, as the explosion engulfed us, Mazikeen had seized the moment to steal me away.”
“For what purpose?” the General asked, his own interest forced him to jump in even when he knew the Martian would have explained without the question.
“She required my aid in finding a way to enter her mother’s realm, which requires a measure of science that even exceeds that of the Watchtower. And, since our goals intersected, I have agreed to help her in her cause.”
“What goal was that?”
J’Onn turned his head and looked at Zod with a grim expression. “Her mother had kidnapped Superman.”
Zod nodded in understanding, his motions unimpeded by the armor as it had been retracted into the various pocket dimensions housed inside the glowing electric blue geometric shapes that ran down the length of his black covered arms. “A partnership of convenience.”
J’Onn looked at Mazikeen, who was about five stairs ahead of the pair, with concern. “Not the most ideal of circumstances, I know, but it’s the best I have in front of me.”
“How did I come to play a role in your grand plan? I strongly doubt I’m at the top of the Justice League’s contact list to call in case of emergencies.”
Despite himself J’Onn cracked a small smile. “I believe your technology is the only means available to finding her mother and Superman, especially once we lost contact with New Genesis and now that – as Mazikeen succinctly put it to me – now that Heaven and Hell are locked up tighter than Eve’s nether region on the Sabbath.”
Zod raised a curious eyebrow. “Who is Eve? And what does a ‘Sabbath’ have to do with anything?”
J’Onn shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Several seconds of silence passed between the pair as they stepped down the narrow staircase before it suddenly opened up around them to reveal the massive former dungeon that spanned the entirety of the expansive castle above it. Thick stone pillars rose up to the domed ceiling that was supported by grand arcs of mortar and rock. As J’Onn’s red eyes scanned what had been converted from a dark, dank room of brutality and confinement into a laboratory that was significantly more advanced than anything he had ever seen in the past century on this planet or even in the immediate galactic neighborhood, a confidence swelled in his chest that they could achieve their objective.
Protruding from the center of the high domed ceiling was a massive crystal stalagmite ringed by metal that shone with a soft blue radiance that made the need for other sources of light unnecessary. Sleek white computer terminals evenly lined the perimeter of the room, hovering independent from any support or external power sources as they were powered wirelessly from the zero point energy generated inside the crystal stalagmite. Holographic images and glyphs written in Zod’s native language projected up from their glass-like touch screen surface. Built into the cells was other powerful machinery that J’Onn couldn’t readily identify.
Attending these multiple computers were several small metallic blue robots that bustled, hovering about from terminal to terminal, checking and maintaining approximately fifty-four experiments and analyses ranging from cloning, patching the hole in the ozone layer, weather control, eugenics and several other things that were necessary for Zod to turn this primitive ball of mud into the utopia that was once Krypton at the dawn of the third age. It was certainly a sight to behold.
Mazikeen looked around with a hint of disgust in her eyes and with a scoff she muttered. “I guess this’ll do.”
Zod titled his head, his boiling point having been long since reached. Who was she to dismiss what was surely the finest display of science and technology in the known universe?
“I will need to make the proper modifications to your equipment if we wish to start our journey,” J’Onn said as he produced a small rectangle-like object from somewhere inside his billowing blue cape. “Do you mind if I use one of your stations?”
Zod motioned to the closest station in a silent agreement to J’Onn’s intentions. He spied the object the Martian held and his excitement was immediately piqued. The Martian was in possession of a Mother Box. “What exactly are these modifications you wish to make?”
J’Onn gazed the dead Mother Box with hope that the energy in the room could revive the sentient computer after it had exhausted the last of its energy to protect Superman in his battle against Doomsday. “We need to enter the Bleed.”
A look of alarm flashed on Zod’s face at the mention of the Bleed. His planet had had a near catastrophic experience with the extra dimensional realm, and if it hadn’t been for the timely intervention of the residents of Vathlo Island the entirety of Argo City would have been destroyed nearly four centuries ago. “No!” He went to reach for the Martian to prevent him from further action when the sharp point of Mazikeen’s sword found itself poking into the soft flesh of the General’s neck. Zod immediately froze in mid-motion and his steel gaze fell upon the woman who held the blade at him. He could feel the sword had drawn blood. “You are going to destroy us all!” Zod snarled.
Mazikeen sneered at the humbled General. “Don’t take this personal, General Dru-Zod, but your arrogant culture had barely begun to explore the universe it occupied and your primitive sensors cannot pierce the dimensional veil and scan deep enough into the fabric of the universe as they need to.” She pulled the sword from the General’s throat and returned the sword to the scabbard. “Your technology may make the rest of this galaxy’s look like a chisel and tablet, but entering the Bleed is like swimming through the arteries of God and it requires an understanding you do not have. Only those of the Fourth World or older can do it with success.”
Zod took a step back, his eyes smoldering with pent up energy. The soft pinging and beeps from the Mother Box in J’Onn’s hand broke the tension…it had been re-energized. J’Onn placed the Mother Box on the Kryptonian computer and wordlessly instructed the machine on what he needed it to do. In seconds the computer began to compute equations that were far beyond what they’d ever crunched and, before Zod’s eyes, he could see the readings and telemetry form. The Mother Box was now searching for the next predicted Bleep ripple and in moments it found it in the Arctic Circle. It was going to flare open in six minutes.
“We cannot forget the crystals we need, Mazikeen.” J’Onn reminded the female lilin. “We will require them to create the doorway we need once we enter the Bleed.”
Mazikeen’s eyes never wavered from Zod’s own unyielding glare. “Yes, you are right, Manhunter. Their flawless surface should be enough to create the reflections we need.”
Zod’s mind put the puzzle pieces together instantly, learning minutes ago to expect the unexpected. “An actuality trap performed inside the myriad of colliding universal afterimages?”
“Yes. We had better get going,” Mazikeen declared as J’Onn pulled the Mother Box off the terminal. She had spun toward the stairs and began to make long strides to them, but she had stopped in mid-step half way there and she turned back to Zod. “I’d recommend that you put your armor back on…if you wish to survive where we’re going.”
The Empty Space
The flat, endless desert stretched on impossibly far around them – his telescoping vision saw for hundreds of miles and still saw no end in sight – and no matter how long the trio walked it seemed like they never seemed to move from the same spot…like they were walking in place. Yet, as the General observed, it didn’t stop Mazikeen from striding forward in some direction that he failed to figure out, as if she knew exactly where to go. What made it tough for the General to tell just how far they had walked and for how long was that it didn’t appear as if the almost pure white sun above them had moved. Their shadows remained as a constant angle and the heat remained stuck at an unusually cold temperature.
It wasn’t something the General could explain as he examined the sun through green lenses and knew there was something odd about the ball of flame.
Unlike the demon, both the Martian Manhunter and the General had elected to hover above rather than dig their feet into the coarse sand. Mazikeen had warned with some sort of foreknowledge that the Empty Space could drain the General of his powers, but even she couldn’t have known that he had prepared for instances such as this and had installed solar generators on the interior of his armor. She might have thought him weak and ill prepared, but he was far from it.
In contrast to the regal red armor-clad Kryptonian, J’Onn was clad from the neck down in the traditional blue body suit of the peacekeepers, complete with the signature crisscrossing red bands across his chest. Zod noticed that despite the warning he had received that J’Onn didn’t get a warning of potentially losing his powers, but the General deduced that the Mother Box strapped around his bicep was likely responsible for allowing the Martian to retain his strength.
“How much further?” the General finally asked after what felt like hours of silence. He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he’d receive but it wasn’t what he got.
Mazikeen paused. She could feel the shift coming. Pretty soon it wouldn’t be safe for any of them. “We are here,” she announced at the very moment the brightness turned into a near impenetrable darkness, and that wasn’t the only change that took place. The scene around the three shifted and they realized a cobblestone-like ground had replaced the sand as an old green afterglow hung in the air.
“Kal…” the Manhunter whispered as Superman’s prone form was revealed and the Martian was taken aback. He had seen Superman in rough shape before, even counting the time he was beaten to death by the monster Doomsday, but every time before had paled to right now. His limbs were disjointed, bone protruding from flesh that was decorated in bruises and gouges, and his iconic blue costume was in ribbons and decorated in filth.
Zod had already reacted and was by his brethren’s side in a split second. He had removed his red cape and wrapped it around Superman’s body carefully, while disregarding the other being that lay near the hero.
“Icon?” the Manhunter asked as he settled next to the hero from Dakota. He appeared to be in almost the same awful shape as his friend, but Icon at least had the use of his limbs. “What happened?”
Icon pushed himself up, supporting as much of himself as he could on a rock. “It was the demon mother,” his voice was weak, but he spoke with strength that J’Onn wondered where Icon managed to muster it. J’Onn tended to Icon’s injuries we he could while the hero continued to reveal what had transpired to himself and to Superman at the cruel hands of the sadistic Lilith.
“And that’s not even the worse of it,” Icon said.
“What is it?” J’Onn asked.
Icon held up a trembling arm and his fist developed a cornea of purple light and grew in brilliance until it was bright enough to reveal the swarm of monstrous insects that surrounded the unexpected newcomers.
Only Mazikeen seemed to be unsurprised by the hissing beasts that threatened to devour the meat from their bones. “You both owe your continued lives to Lilith, otherwise you’d both have been killed nearly instantly,” the demon informed.
“And why do you say that?!” the disgust perfectly clear in Icon’s defiant voice.
“Her stench that permeates you repels them.”
Mazikeen rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and looked at J’Onn. “You have what you came for. It’s up to you to get to New Genesis.”
J’Onn nodded in understanding and Mazikeen disappeared into the darkness beyond Icon’s power.
She had forgotten about the fools nearly immediately after leaving them behind; now that she was where she needed she had little use for them anymore, their purpose was served. It didn’t take long for her to approach a tall, ancient stone tower that she knew had been built before the universe itself was born. She could feel the pull of her mother’s influence stronger now that she could before; Lilith was inside.
“I knew it was a matter of time before you came, Mazikeen,” a voice declared from the darkness of the sunken entrance to the tower that served as Lilith’s birthing chamber where, at this very moment, she was spawning thousands of demonic offspring.
Mazikeen grinned. “And I knew you would be waiting for me, ever subservient at the feet of my mother like an obedient dog.”
Stepping from the darkness was a man with skin of the darkest obsidian, adorned with a golden armor and a golden leaf crown on his bald head. “You should turn around now,” he warned as he expanded the massive black wings on his back to their fullest spread in an instinctive effort to intimidate his foe.
“Come now, Hurmizah, you know I didn’t come all this way to be denied by you,” Mazikeen mocked. “I’ll offer you the same opportunity: turn around now or I guarantee you I will go through your dismembered corpse. Now is not the time to piss me off.”
Hurmizah shook his head as he pulled a large golden blade from the scabbard that hung on his hip. “You are Mazikeen. You were born eternally pissed off.”
Mazikeen tilted her head slightly to ponder the demons words to her. “In this, Hurmizah, I cannot disagree,” she said as she too pulled her blade that was desperately aching to be satisfied of its violent hunger and she held it pointed down to the ground, then twisted it in anticipation of battle.
No further words were needed as they charged forward, their swords clashed and their contact shook the ground they fought on. Joy filled Mazikeen’s black heart in the heat of their fierce duel as her blade moved in a blur; a deadly ballet of hostility that she knew would end in her favor.
Hurmizah struggled to keep up with Mazikeen’s relentless fury, though swordplay wasn’t nearly at top of his forte; causing plagues and mass death was. A fist struck his nose, dazing him, and his sandaled foot stumbled on the cobblestone. It was all the opening Mazikeen needed to bring her sword up and, with a motion that would have been hard pressed for even the Flash to catch, she brought it down and buried the tip two inches into the stone.
The black-winged demon stood still for half a second before he split apart, having been cut in twain from his head down, and fell to the ground in a soft thud. Mazikeen pulled her sword free and held it firm in her grip as she stepped toward the tower’s door. She reached forward and pushed the thick wooden door open and was accosted by a cacophony of horrific howling that came from the litter of babies that lined the floor, twisting and turning in their new life.
In the middle of the pandemonium lay a naked woman, sweat decorated her brow and her legs were spread to allow her children to enter the world. Lilith looked up and saw one of her eldest daughters approach her.
Mazikeen returned her glare and, with a serene calmness, she spoke. “Hello, Mother.”
Zod was at a loss in how to attend to Superman’s many injuries in this savage environment. There was a degree of pity in the General’s eyes, but there was also a measure of respect too in knowing that any one of these injuries would have killed a weaker man, let alone the combination of wounds and compound fractures he suffered.
“How do you intend to get us to New Genesis?” Zod asked the Martian Manhunter.
J’Onn looked down at the Mother Box and knew that the fragile computer was too weak to open a boom tube to deliver them where they needed to be. “I do not know,” he answered honestly. No matter how strongly willed Superman and Icon were, if they continued to be left unattended, they would perish.
The Martian cast his gaze at the horde of monsters surrounding them and wondered how long they had left before the sun above returned light to the land to repel the creatures. They were also stuck as long as these things remained. It was then that the ground below them began to vibrate. Not quite as powerful as an earthquake, but enough to cause alarm to the two men who were healthy and conscious enough to feel it.
“What now?” Zod asked.
A figure burst free from the ground and stood to full height. Even in the darkness, the figure’s white armor glimmered and the Martian recognized the new arrival moments before the General was about to launch his attack. “Zod, No!”
The General paused, trusting of the Martian enough to pay heed to the alien’s outburst. “You know this being?”
J’Onn nodded as Forager stepped closer; the monsters seemed to part and move away from her as she moved. She turned to the beasts and, with a guttural grunt, she spat and the beasts moved away and disappeared. With the threat gone she turned to the Manhunter who had moved to meet her. “We need to get you out of here,” Forager said to the Manhunter.
“You need to get us to New Genesis immediately.”
“Don’t you already know? You’re in New Genesis.”
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To Be Concluded in Crisis ad Infinitum #6
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