by Marv Wolfman
“I’m not your friend. I know what you are, and like me, you’re not supposed to be here.”
Enchantress frowned at his insolence. “Stop talking,” she ordered. “This should be simple. Are we friends or are we foes? And remember, we are not the ones who caged you.”
* * *
Deadshot stared. She was the face of the enemy and there was no way they would ever stand side by side.
“I’m a bad guy, yeah, but you, lady, you want to destroy my world,” he said. “You are evil.”
The others stood beside him. They were together in this.
Enchantress glanced up to the window. There was a glowing light in the distance.
“Brother, you were right. The pets won’t turn on their masters. So go ahead. Break their necks, but try not to disturb me. The machine requires my full attention now.” She turned back to finish working on her machine as Incubus appeared.
“You do what you need to, sister. I will destroy our enemies.”
“You are a dear, brother,” she replied, and she smiled. “Have fun.”
He marched to the colonnade, his magic armor fanning like a cobra hood. “I’ve been waiting for this for so very long.” His eyes glowed. A tentacle shot from his hands and slammed into the stone column, shattering it.
Flag hit his comm and screamed into it.
“GQ. You in position? GQ? Copy.”
They waited, but they heard nothing. Deadshot looked at Flag and shrugged.
“Your plan sucks. Just saying it.”
“Guys,” Harley shouted. “The big kahuna’s doing it again. Just letting you know.”
Incubus was powering up.
SIXTY-TWO
GQ was dressed in neoprene from head to toe, but he was still freezing as he swam through the flooded subway tunnels. His hood was firmly in place and he checked the collar of his wetsuit for leaks.
He felt cold splash against his neck. It was virtually impossible to create a perfect closure, but after nine years as a Navy SEAL, he was pretty sure he could deal with it.
The other SEALs followed behind. Gomez tapped his foot and pointed to the right. A half-dozen EAs were speeding toward them, knives held in crusted gnarled hands. The SEALs pulled out their own, and prepared for the fight.
Blades hacked and slashed, cutting through the neoprene. Through flesh. Through crusted skin and twisted bone.
GQ jerked back as an assailant’s knife tried to slice through his air line. He twisted until he was able to thrust his own blade up into the thing’s throat, lodging into its neck bone. GQ sawed the blade until he was able to yank it free, and watched as the EA fell back and floated off in a fountain of red.
Gomez wrestled with two EAs. GQ turned to assist, but before he could, one of the creatures thrust its knife into the soldier’s heart. His friend was dead before he could swim to help him.
Kowalski was fending off an attack. An EA clawed at his face, then ripped through his regulator. Streams of compressed air exploded from the hacked tube. The SEAL kept fighting, even as he ran out of air. Finally he went limp.
GQ dived at the thing that killed Kowalski, and stabbed it through its neck. In another time it might have been one of his men, someone he’d fight to protect, but that person was gone, and he desperately wanted to make certain his friends’ memories wouldn’t be sullied.
He cut at the creature, sawed through flesh and cartilage until its head fell from its neck and sank to the subway tracks below.
He was gasping for more air than his regulator would permit and he struggled to control his breathing. He closed his eyes and took long, steady, calming breaths. When he opened them again, he was alone, surrounded by broken combatants.
He wanted to swim to his men and carry their bodies back to the surface, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Now, or ever. The demo charge was still waiting for him, and if fortune was on their side, the blast would be powerful enough to destroy Incubus.
Which meant it would kill him, too.
SIXTY-THREE
Enchantress glanced up from the machine to watch Incubus, calmly firing his deadly energy at Flag and his Squad. His smile warmed her. He enjoyed playing with these children, firing his bolts closer and closer, but not yet hitting them. He’d kill them soon enough, but first he wanted to have some fun.
He’d been asleep for so long.
“Brother, enjoy yourself, but can you please be a bit quieter?” Enchantress asked. “This is a delicate instrument. I need to test it without you rattling the rafters. Maybe you should just kill them and be done with it.”
Incubus disagreed. “The humans no longer worship us as they once did. They even believe we are not gods. Sister, they have to pay for their affronts.”
“Fine,” she replied. “Hunt them down and torture them if it will make you happy—but for now, do it quietly.”
Incubus prepared to fire another tendril, but then decided not to. He was powerful enough that he didn’t need mystical incantations to destroy them. What he wanted now was a little physical exercise.
Enchantress stepped back and admired her machine. Giant black gears snapped into place, increasing the energy that fed the machine.
“It’s my turn now, brother. I am the power that empowers my machine. My life gives it its strength. Watch me and rejoice.” She smiled, then dropped her arms.
The machine opened its maw and swallowed its black smoke. Its gears kept turning and grinding and convulsing. Then, magical energy erupted from the machine and blew an outsized hole through the station roof.
“Brother, it has begun,” she cried. “This world will again be ours.” Bolts of lightning crackled through the shattered roof, angled toward the ring of street debris orbiting the station. Hurricane winds slammed the train station. They were now in the eye of a super storm.
Enchantress’s machine was a long-range weapons system, powered not by electricity, but by magic that had been forgotten millennia ago. Magic the modern world could no longer combat.
* * *
GQ swam to the surface and pulled himself up to the platform. He keyed in his comm.
“Rick? You up?”
Flag’s voice was loud and clear. “Yeah. We’re inside. You in position?”
“Negative,” GQ answered. “They’re down here. My guys are gone.”
“Hell. I’m sorry, man, but you gotta get to the southeast corner. We’ll drive him to you. Make it happen.”
“You got it, Flag. Take care.”
“Yeah. My thoughts are with you. Hell, the thoughts of everyone here are with you.”
GQ slipped his comm back into its case. This is happening now. If it works, it’ll soon be over. He hesitated a moment longer, then he took a deep breath and moved on. If he wanted to help save the world, he didn’t have any other choice. This was exactly what he had signed on for.
There was a heavy, thudding noise coming from behind him. Something was moving through the flooded tunnel.
Dammit. No. Not more of those monsters. His strength was mostly gone and he wasn’t sure he could fight anything else. He reached for his pistol and turned to face them. If he had to die he’d take out as many as he could.
A big hand grabbed him at his wrist. He felt its scales cut into him.
Croc.
GQ looked at him and opened fire. Not at Croc but at the EA surfacing behind him, shredding it. So many shots that his pistol was hot.
Croc pulled himself out of the water and looked at the corpse floating into the tunnel.
“Who else is dead?” Croc asked.
“I’m all that’s left. And you.”
“Sorry about that, man. This is all bad. Real bad.”
“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m glad you’re here. Can you help get me down this tunnel?”
“Follow me,” Croc answered. “And I’m glad you made it, too. C’mon.” He dived back into the tunnel. GQ followed. He wasn’t sure when his reality changed, but Croc had somehow become his brother-in-ar
ms, and he was damn happy about it.
SIXTY-FOUR
Diablo was in pain. His family was dead and nobody could bring them back. They’d never know if he was good or bad. They’d never know if he tried to save the world or condemned it to its own slow, painful death.
Deadshot was wrong. This wasn’t on them. This was on him. His wife and kids would never know what he did, and they’d never care—but he knew they’d want him to prove to himself that he wasn’t just the monster who slaughtered the only people who ever loved him.
He had to prove to himself that he was worth their love. Diablo looked at Deadshot and nodded.
“Thanks, brother. I got this.” He stepped into the light and walked up behind Incubus. “Hey, fool. You lookin’ for me? Well, I’m over here. So let’s do this.”
Incubus turned to face him. “You are right, burning man,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
Diablo’s arm shot out and whipped a blast of fire into Incubus’s face.
“That the best you have?” Incubus said, shrugging it off, grinning at his opponent. His armor rippled and dispersed the heat. “You are trying to fight a god, but there is no way you can survive, let alone be victorious.”
Incubus suddenly lunged and slammed Diablo into the station wall. The impact blinded him with pain. He yelped then slipped to the ground, unconscious.
Their most powerful warrior was downed even before he could throw the first punch.
“Well,” Harley said, looking lost and frightened. “No way that went well.”
Incubus turned to the others and gestured for them to come at him. He now had more toys with which to play, and he couldn’t wait. The battle was just beginning.
* * *
GQ was almost in position. He glanced to his side and saw Croc swimming next to him. Somehow it gave him the confidence to go on, and yet when he thought about it, SEAL and monster made for a crazy pairing.
He’d gotten used to the scales and spikes, but he still laughed at the crazy villain name and the wild images it conjured in his mind. For some reason super-villains adopted bizarre code names like Croc. Deadshot. Boomerang. Then again, the heroes did, too.
What was wrong with using real names? Maybe Tom, Dick, or Harry simply weren’t awe-inspiring for the heroes, or frightening enough for their foes. Either way, it was a strange custom, and stranger still to be thinking about it now.
GQ tried to remember if Croc had a real name. He was sure he saw it in the briefing book they gave him to read in the chopper on their way to Midway City. C’mon. What was it again? Then he remembered.
Jones. Croc’s real name was Waylon Jones, and he had been born with a strain of atavism that toughened his skin into spikes and ridges, turning him into a human reptile. Edwards could only imagine what it must have been like, growing up a monster in a world that feared anything that was even slightly different. It didn’t excuse all the horror Croc had caused, but he could understand how that could warp a man, even turn him against the rest of mankind. They were, after all, the ones who looked at him with disgust and revulsion.
GQ was suddenly ashamed that he had thought the same thing. When they first met, he wouldn’t have believed they would one day fight as allies, but now he couldn’t think of a soldier he’d rather fight beside. Whatever Jones might have done in the past—and Croc’s rap sheet was disturbingly long and twisted—he proved himself now, when the world needed him the most.
Edwards looked up ahead, and saw a light in the distance. They were close to where Enchantress had tossed the explosive. Just a few more seconds to get into position, he thought, then it would almost be over.
He sliced through the water. Croc was pulling ahead. Then he felt something brush past his leg.
Suddenly one of the creatures grabbed him. GQ tamped his panic and kicked at the thing, but it stubbornly held onto his leg. He slammed it again, smashing his foot into the thing’s face, cracking it open.
Still, the EA didn’t let go. It pulled itself up over GQ and reached for his face. As it did, Croc grabbed it and tore it off the SEAL. The EA turned to fight its new enemy, but Croc bear-hugged it and ripped its chest open, releasing everything that was inside.
Croc was ready to pull its head off, but the thing was already dead. He let it go and it floated away into the murk.
More of them swarmed in. Croc pushed GQ back and away and shot him a look that said, Go! Then the things came for him.
No one could survive that, GQ thought. He turned, and the way ahead was clear. Croc was right—he had to detonate the explosives. It was their only hope. He said a silent prayer and swam like hell toward the tunnel’s end.
SIXTY-FIVE
More than four thousand years ago, Incubus stood side by side with his sister against vast armies of trained warriors who swore they would destroy the two gods. Those warriors were now dead, while brother and sister stood strong, and more powerful than ever.
Now, as then, Incubus had to laugh at the pitiful humans who thought they would succeed where thousands before them had failed. They had no idea what they were fighting. Gods were meant to rule, and if he had to destroy all who challenged him to get those few who lived to serve his needs, he would.
His sister was wasting her time, doing whatever she was planning with those arcane machines. As he had repeatedly told her, they didn’t need machines to force the humans to their knees. They didn’t need anything but the natural powers they were born with.
Yet she let him have his fun. How could he not do the same for her? So Incubus held out his hands, both glowing with unbridled energy. Beams of light sizzled from his fingertips.
Amused, he watched the humans scatter as the beams smashed into the ground and ripped up the station platform. He enjoyed watching them run, like little mice in a maze, somehow believing they were the dominant species on Earth. It was so amazing, he thought. Humans hadn’t changed in all the thousands of years he’d known them. The sheep were still as stubbornly ignorant as ever, and he wasn’t sure they would ever accept their rightful place as faithful, mindless servants.
That was the best they could hope to achieve. So be it, he thought. It was time to destroy them. It was now time for the real fun to begin.
* * *
Diablo, having regained his senses, attacked with a geyser of flame while Harley fired her guns. As soon as she used up one mag, she slammed in another and kept up the attack. Incubus shrugged off these assaults.
They were little more than harmless diversions.
* * *
When Floyd Lawton joined this little coffee klatch, he’d fully expected he’d use his time either to plot his escape, or find a way to permanently end both Flag and Waller.
Somehow, between then and now, things had changed.
Sure, Flag acted like a jerk for far longer than he should have, but at some point in time Lawton realized that Colonel Stick-Up-His-Ass actually respected him. No way they’d ever play on the same rec league bowling team, but surprising as it was, they were able to work together. His talents were finally being used for something more important than just adding to his bank account. In the past, he’d never much cared what job he took. Long as it paid, a target was a target, and he never missed.
Katana was ready to fight. “Slice and dice,” Lawton shouted to her, laughing. Crouching next to her, Boomer launched his boomerangs at Incubus. There were two detonations as they slammed into his face and exploded.
Incubus stumbled back and roared, but quickly shook off the momentary pain and attacked again. Flag called to Deadshot and Diablo. GQ and Croc were almost in place. It was their turn now.
“Get him into the corner. That’s where the bomb’s gonna be.”
Incubus saw Boomer about to launch another explosive ’rang at him. He stepped back, breathed in deeply, and concentrated, forming a smoky tendril.
But Katana jumped at the giant and brought her sword down hard on his arm, slicing his hand off at the wrist. He fell back as his half-formed tendr
il shook and disappeared, smoky wisps dissipating into the air.
“You will suffer for that,” he shouted as he launched yet another tendril at Katana.
Incubus held out his bloodied wrist, pain etched across his face. He closed his eyes and screamed as the shattered stump of bone and flesh seemed to glow and extend, building a new forearm. Regenerating a new wrist. A new hand.
As he flexed his fingers, pleased to see he could still control them, Incubus turned to Deadshot and smiled. “The woman did that to me, but you commanded her,” he roared. “So you will die first, then I will take my time and kill her, too. It will be a wonderful, agonizing death. Then, when you are all dead, the rest of humanity, with no one left to fight for them, will follow.”
The giant lunged for Lawton and slammed him in the chest. Deadshot helplessly skidded across the floor and crashed into a wall. Incubus stalked toward him, his hands beginning to glow again with renewed energy.
Suddenly Harley jumped onto his back, and rode him like a bucking bronco. Her fingers clawed into his neck as she tried to strangle him.
“Have fun trying to breathe, gruesome.”
He stood up and shrugged her off. He then picked her up by the head and casually flipped her across the tracks.
“I’ll come back for you soon enough, little girl,” he said, “I have priorities, and you are low on the list.”
Boomerang tried to pull Deadshot to safety. Incubus shook his head, then grabbed the Aussie and held him high so he could look the man in his eyes.
“Do you really want to fight me before I’ve slaughtered Flag? If so, I will be more than happy to oblige.” He tossed him off the platform, and watched him bounce onto the tracks.
He turned again to Deadshot, still on the ground, weak and leaning against a station column. His face was smeared with blood, and it looked as if he’d been dead for at least a week. Weak as he was, however, he raised his arms and aimed his wrist magnums, already set to full auto.
Incubus grinned and leapt.
“When are you humans ever going to learn?”
