|Lima, Peru
|December 24, 2009, 11:30 PM PET
|Downtown Lima, Rooftop of an Abandoned Building
The Lima night was a mixture of humidity and the distant clamor of the city. After a forced and chaotic flight from the airport, utilizing Cherub's superspeed and the flight of Wonder Boy and Warhawk, guided by Sebastian's levitation, they finally arrived in downtown Lima. The lights of the buildings stretched to the horizon, a labyrinth of concrete and glass.
"Here," Sebastian gasped, landing with a thud on the rooftop of an abandoned apartment building, the three clones descending beside him. The strain of maintaining the mental connection, guiding the others, and flying all over the city had taken its toll. The civilian clothes they'd gotten at the airport were no longer enough to hide the sweat and exhaustion.
Wonder Boy looked around, his eyes, no longer reflecting confusion but a budding rebellion, scanning the surroundings. "A hiding place? For how long, Sebastian? And what about the people down below? Didn't they see us fly?"
"We're probably on the news already," Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, knowing secrecy had flown out the window at the airport. "Some weird version of the Justice League or 'metahumans in Lima.' But this building will do for now. It's big, old, and no one uses it. It'll give us a break."
With a collective groan, the four pushed their way through a rusty metal door leading to the stairs and into the dilapidated building. The interior was dark and dusty, the air stale with the smell of mold and neglect.
Once inside, in what appeared to be an ancient hall, Sebastian took a few steps away from the clones, a look of regret crossing his face. Wonder Boy, Warhawk, and Cherub watched him, their eyes expectant. They had accepted his guidance so far, a truce forced by desperation.
"So," Wonder Boy asked, his voice laden with defiance. "What now, Sebastian? What's your big plan? Is this 'Strange' going to solve our lives?"
Warhawk nodded with a frown. "You told us you wouldn't put us to sleep again. You promised."
Sebastian looked at the three of them, a knot in his stomach. The decision he was about to make wasn't easy, but he considered it necessary. It was a calculated risk.
"I'm sorry," Sebastian said, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but with an underlying determination. His hand began to glow with a crimson light, Chaos magic pulsing strongly. "But this... this is necessary to keep them safe. For the plan to work."
Before the clones could react, Sebastian's crimson energy rapidly expanded, a wave of Chaos magic enveloping them. It wasn't an attack, but an imposition. Wonder Boy's eyes closed, his body relaxing. Warhawk fell to the ground with a sigh. Cherub, with her speed, barely had time to tense before the wave reached her, her eyes narrowing, and she fell unconscious.
Sebastian approached the three, his face marked by concern. With a pulse of his power, he gently floated them in the air, their bodies inert and serene.
"I'm sorry," he repeated to himself, his voice a whisper in the silence of the abandoned building. "I can't risk them waking up too early, or doing something that would jeopardize everything. I need all my concentration for this."
He looked at the clones, now suspended, a strange living canvas. Chaos Magic vibrated within him, the power he had felt upon awakening in this reality. He needed a beacon, a beacon for Strange. And the clones, with their unique genetics and the disruption they represented, would be his channeling point.
Sebastian held out his hands, crimson energy flowing from his palms into the bodies of Wonder Boy, Warhawk, and Cherub. The magic didn't affect them, didn't harm them, didn't wake them. Instead, it pooled around them, a shimmering, invisible layer, pulsing with a strange frequency. It was an echo, a call. An energetic signature that only a sensitive mystic like Gregorio de la Vega could sense. He was creating a magnet, an irresistible trail of Chaos Magic to draw the sorcerer to him. The stakes were high. If it worked, he would find the help they so desperately needed. If not... they would be at the mercy of Cadmus or a distrustful Justice League.
|The Sacrarium
|Somewhere Hidden in Lima, |Peru
|December 24, 2009, 11:35 PM PET
In the tranquil and mystical atmosphere of El Sacrarium, a dwelling constructed with a blend of pre-Columbian architecture and modern designs, Gregorio de la Vega found himself in his private study. He sat in the lotus position, his eyes closed, surrounded by incense candles and strange magical artifacts, meditating deeply. His mind, a finely tuned tool for the currents of reality, was in a state of perfect calm.
Suddenly, a disturbance. Not a simple spike of energy, but a buildup. A surge of Chaos magic. It was an unmistakable signature, like a gaping wound in the fabric of reality. And most disturbingly, it was potent, concentrated, and deliberate. Not the random outburst of an unskilled sorcerer, but something channeled, almost... inviting.
Gregor's eyes flew open, a golden glow igniting in his dark irises. The incense seemed to tremble in the air. It wasn't Klarion's usual trail, which left a stench of sulfur and muck in its wake. This was different. More subtle, but with a deeper resonance.
He stood up with surprising agility for his age. He quickly made his way through the quiet halls of the Sacrarium, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries and esoteric symbols, to the master bedroom.
Hugh Dawkins, aka the Tasmanian Devil, her husband, was reading peacefully in bed, the light from a soft lamp illuminating the pages of a book. His tanned skin and strong build were evident even under his pajamas. Beside him, 10-year-old Suri slept peacefully in her children's bed, her breathing soft and regular. Hugh, the hero from Australia who had moved to Lima for his family, looked up, instantly noticing the gravity in her husband's eyes. He put the book aside.
"What's wrong, my love?" Hugh asked, his voice deep and melodic, a contrast to the tension in the air. "You look... worried."
"I am," Gregorio replied, his eyes fixed on a distant point. "There's a buildup of energy. Chaos Magic. Powerful. It's forming in the center of Lima."
Hugh frowned. "Klarion? Here? That would be... unusual. And I don't smell his sulfur."
"I don't know," Gregor admitted. "It doesn't have his exact signature. It's... purer, but concentrated. It's a calling. A deliberate signal. Someone is trying to get my attention."
Hugh got out of bed, approaching him, his protective instinct already activated. "Be careful, Gregor. Chaos Magic is dangerous. And you know it."
"I know. But I can't ignore her. Not when she's so... insistent." Gregorio leaned down and gently kissed Suri's forehead, as she slept, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Take care of Suri while I'm gone. Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
"You always do," Hugh said, but there was an unspoken concern in his voice. His training as a hero told him this wasn't just any night.
Gregorio de la Vega nodded, his mind already on the street, following the invisible trail of energy. The night was young, and Lima was demanding answers. A new and strange threat, or perhaps a strange and desperate plea for help, had reached his city.
|Gotham City
|December 24, 2009, 8:00 PM EST
|Wayne Manor, Dining Room
The warmth of the fireplace crackled cheerfully in the Wayne Manor dining room, enveloping the scene in a cozy atmosphere. The large Christmas tree, resplendent with lights and ornaments, stood majestically in one corner. Alfred, in his impeccable waistcoat and with a friendly smile, served Christmas dinner, a traditional feast that filled the house with delicious aromas.
Bruce Wayne, dressed in a smart wool sweater that failed to hide the intensity in his eyes, watched Dick, who was excitedly unwrapping a carefully wrapped gift. Dick, as always, was the embodiment of vivacity, his blue eyes sparkling with Christmas excitement.
"Oh, this is so cool, Bruce!" Dick exclaimed, holding up a sophisticated, scaled-down reconnaissance drone, complete with multiple functions and a high-definition camera. His smile was infectious, and for a moment, Bruce allowed a rare, small smile to form on his own lips.
"I thought you'd like it," Bruce said, his voice soft, enjoying the rare moment of normality and joy.
Just then, Bruce's phone, a discreet but high-tech model, vibrated and emitted a barely audible alert. It was the same alert the Watchtower had received, now sent directly to his personal devices as a member of the League. Bruce, with a swiftness only a trained detective could possess, discreetly checked it, his thumb swiping across the screen.
His expression, which had briefly softened, returned to its usual stoicism, but with a barely perceptible tinge of frustration. The screen displayed energy data, a signal of mystical origin, a clear accumulation of Chaos Magic. And the location: Lima, Peru.
Bruce's brow furrowed imperceptibly. The same Chaos Magic Zatara had identified in the individual who escaped from Cadmus. The trail continued. But Peru... the same complicated jurisdiction he'd discussed at the Watchtower. He couldn't go. Not without UN approval, and that would take time. Time they didn't have. Helplessness gnawed at him.
Dick, always attentive to his adoptive "father," noticed the slight change in Bruce's expression. "All right, Bruce? Any problems?" he asked, his enthusiasm for the drone giving way to subtle concern.
Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket in one fluid motion. "It's nothing, Dick. Just... work. Boring company stuff. Don't worry about it." He tried hard to sound nonchalant, though the tension lingered in his jaw.
To divert attention, Bruce pulled out a small camera phone. "Come on, stand next to the tree with your new toy. I want a picture for the family albums, for Alfred."
Dick, with his optimistic nature, let the distraction take over. "Sure!" He smiled broadly, posing with his drone, the Christmas tree twinkling behind him.
Bruce took the photo, the flash illuminating the dining room for a moment. As he did so, his mind was already back in Lima, processing the implications of that Chaos Magic signal. He knew his fellow Justice League members would be working on it. But the frustration of distance and bureaucracy was a weight he carried as Christmas continued, oblivious to the mysteries unfolding on the other side of the world.
================================
|Star City
|December 24, 2009, 8:30 PM EST
|Wally West's House, Wally's Room
Controlled chaos reigned in Wally West's room. Torn gift boxes and shredded wrapping paper littered the floor like a Christmas battlefield. On his state-of-the-art television screen, the vibrant graphics of his new racing video game flickered at breakneck speed. Wally, a blur on the couch, moved his hands so fast they were barely visible, his thumbs flying over the controller, his eyes glued to the action. With his super speed, he'd eaten dinner in the blink of an eye and opened all his presents in the time it would take anyone else to pick one out.
"Yes! New record!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, as his character crossed the finish line.
Just then, his cell phone, carelessly tossed onto the bed, began to vibrate rhythmically. Wally, without taking his eyes off the screen, reached out and caught it in midair with sprinter-like precision.
"Hello? Who's the legend interrupting my moment of glory?" he said with his usual joviality, not bothering to look at the caller ID.
"Wally, it's me, Robin," his best friend's voice sounded on the other end of the line, his tone not his usual banter. There was an urgency, a seriousness that Wally recognized instantly, though he chose to ignore it.
"Rob! What's up? Celebrating Christmas in the Bat-Cave? What did Batman get you? Another Batsuit? Or maybe a peppermint-flavored Bat-belt?" Wally burst out laughing, trying to lighten the mood.
"Wally, listen to me," Robin's voice became more serious, cutting through Wally's teasing. "Batman just got an alert. It's about those Cadmus guys, the ones who left the Lima airport."
Wally's tone changed instantly. He sat up on the couch, his gaze losing its amusement and turning alert. "Wait, the clones? What happened? The League found them? Are they okay?"
"No, the League didn't find them," Robin continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if he were discussing a state secret. "But Batman got an alert. A massive buildup of Chaos Magic. In downtown Lima. And the energy trace indicates it's... close to those kids. It's the same magic the guy who took them out used."
Wally frowned, the game on the screen forgotten. "Chaos magic... Klarion's kind? And they're using it for... something? For what? An attack?"
"I don't know, Wally. That's what frustrates me," Robin said, his voice ringing with the same irritation Wally had noted earlier on the rooftop. "The League can't go. They don't have jurisdiction. And Batman's frustrated about that! But whatever's going on up there, it's big. And I think those kids are in danger. Or whoever uses magic is the danger. We can't wait for the League to sort out its bureaucratic problems."
A moment of silence fell. Wally processed the information, the gravity of the situation seeping through his usual nonchalant facade. Chaos Magic. Hero clones. No League oversight. It sounded like the kind of mess he and his friends would have to clean up.
"Uhm... okay, Robin, that's... serious," Wally finally said, his tone less joking than usual. Then, almost without thinking, he added, "But, uh... back to business... what were your Christmas presents, by the way?" The question came out of inertia, an almost reflexive attempt to return to normality, a way to deal with the tension.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Robin sighed, and Wally could imagine his friend rolling his eyes.
"Wally, can you be serious for a second?" Robin's voice was a mix of exasperation and the familiarity of a brother.
"I am, Rob," Wally insisted, though a small smile formed on his lips. He was the only one who could push Robin's buttons like that. "It's just... look, I know things are important. But it's Christmas! And you haven't told me what Santa brought you. That's crucial information!"
There was another pause, this time longer. Finally, Robin spoke again, her voice tinged with childish embarrassment that made Wally laugh.
"A state-of-the-art reconnaissance drone," Robin admitted, almost as if it pained him to say it. "And... and also a construction set for a... Bat-spaceship."
Wally burst out laughing. "Hahaha! A Bat-spaceship! Of course, Rob! That's excellent! And the drone? Is it like Batman's, but smaller?"
"It's better than Batman's," Robin grumbled, his pride wounded. "But... yeah, something like that. Now, are you in or not? Tomorrow at 5:00 AM at Star City Harbor, Pier 17. No more time for jokes."
"Of course I'm in!" Wally exclaimed, his enthusiasm back to full swing. The prospect of a secret mission, a trip to Peru, and maybe even a little action, revitalized him. "See you there, Rob! Don't be late! I've got a reputation for speed to uphold!"
Wally hung up the phone, his smile widening. A Christmas adventure, and one that promised to be very, very interesting. He returned to the TV screen, but the racing game no longer entertained him. His mind was already in Lima.
TO BE CONTINUED