Kevin Curry
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Devil's consultancy 56
🕑 Added 2025-12-22 15:00:12 +0000 UTCThe trip on the helicopter was rather illuminating as to the state of the city. Tanya counted seven fires, Poison Ivy was doing something at the park, Mr. Freeze had taken S.T.A.R. labs over again, and- oop, there’s Firefly. Eight fires.
Of course, for a lot of the League, it doesn’t take very long for- Mr. Freeze’s homegrown glacier shattered, a bright red cloth visible even at this distance. Glowing green fire extinguishers sprayed green mist that suppressed the fires even as the firebug was captured by more green constructs.
Tanya assumed other members of the League were already deployed, but that was what was visible from this distant vantage.
The helicopter arrived at The Powers Club, which was a mansion that was technically owned by the Cobblepot family but was deliberately left under the control of an independent trust (which was probably owned by the Court of Owls) and was rented out for parties, primarily. It was extremely popular as a place to throw galas, the ballroom was quite grand. Tanya could remember five of them off the top of her head that she’s attended here this year… although it’s close to the end of the year, so the true number was probably over twenty.
They landed the helicopter in the back, and while it was very strange to leave a helicopter while it was set properly on the ground, no one commented on her moment of vertigo and she was led inside.
There was a granite wall with an elaborately carved relief, but the lines of it started to glow lime green before opening up as Jacob gestured at it with his left hand, which held not only his wedding ring but an elaborate other ring that, while it didn’t exactly look a lot like an owl, it did kind of give that sort of impression if you were looking for it. A moment of focus and sharp inhale revealed that both the ring and the door were magical, and it smelled a little bit like the Talon’s ectoplasmic stench. Or it was just getting overwhelmed by the ghouls that were following them. As a secret society, it was entirely possible that it was just concealed from weak magical senses like she had in her mortal form somehow, and she’d need to assume demon form to be able to detect these doors in the future.
“Did you just sniff the door?” Jacob asked, his voice half-disbelieving.
“How’d you get it to glow?” Tanya asked, falling back on her ‘flighty’ persona. “Is it sour apple flavored?” She paused in their walking. “Maybe if I lick it…” She murmured.
“Do not.” Jacob said harshly as he pulled her along, his suspicions falling away to just general frustration. “I know you rarely leave the manor but surely you’ve been told to not lick random chemicals before.”
“So it’s not sour apple flavored?” Tanya said, doing her best to sound profoundly disappointed. “Do you have any candy? I want candy.”
“No.” He said, although with his body language… Tanya tripped, grabbing at his suit jacket to catch herself. “You’re not this childish, stop this nonsense.”
Butterscotch? Man, that’s old person candy. But candy is candy, so… “‘Kay.” Tanya said, popping the candy in her mouth. “Alfred didn’t-” She forgot how good these things tasted, yum. “- tell me to be on my best behavior this time.” She added, not bothering to conceal her enjoyment of the candy.
Jacob immediately checked his pocket. “You little thief!” He said, although he didn’t seem that angry about it. “Did that Jason boy teach you that?”
“Dick.” Tanya replied, both answering his question and insulting him for the assumption. “He always has candy, but never shares. It’s like a game.” It is, in fact, a literal game between the two of them. She stopped carrying those root beer hard candies he liked in her purse ever since he went to Jump, though. She held up one of the root beer candies, extracted from the pile of hundreds she had in her soul. Well, it was originally hundreds. She’ll run out eventually, she’s sure. “Want one?”
“It’s mine anyway.” He said, grabbing it before noticing that it was, in fact, not his candy. “If you had this already, why’d you take mine?”
“I don’t like that flavor.” Tanya said in an annoyingly obtuse manner.
They entered what appeared to be a freight elevator of some kind, and started to descend. “...How old is this candy?” Jacob asked, after presumably doing some mental math.
“I dunno.” Tanya said, “Years? It was in the bag.” She patted her emergency escape bag. “Right next to this spare diaper.” She said, taking one of her old spares that was absolutely not in the bag out to show him.
Making a disgusted sound, the ex-Colonel dropped the perfectly good root beer candy. Tanya cackled with laughter, putting it back into her soul space after moving it into the bag. “You think you’re funny, do you?” He growled.
“I’m hilarious.” Tanya insisted, “Magic makes me so good at prop comedy you don’t even know. That was just a pad.” She brought out the feminine hygiene product in question, because of course Alfred stocked the thing properly, and waved it around, laughing at her own cleverness. “I do card tricks, too.” She said, balling up the plastic between her hands and swapping it out for a deck of cards. Opening up her hands again, she splays out the cards. “See? Pick a card.” She couldn’t do real sleight of hand, that took way more practice than she was willing to put in, but real magic could fake it well enough. That way, she only needed to practice enough to be able to handle the cards without spilling them all over the floor.
The elevator was kind of slow, but it finally stopped, but the door didn’t open. Tanya put away the cards. Jacob pressed a hidden switch, which opened up a compartment where there were white owl masks. He handed one to her, and put the other on himself. It was rather big on Tanya, but she would make this cute by sheer force of will.
When the compartment closed, the door opened. Tanya decided that the thing to do with an owl mask like this was to make her head move a bit like an actual owl, staying mostly stable but moving oddly at times. So she started staring at random things, keeping her gaze trained on it for longer than was polite, as they walked down the hall to the Court of Owl’s hideout.
The architecture here was old, reminding her of the old Gotham storm sewer system; this was probably built off of said system. One of the ubiquitous fancy grates opened up, and a more feral Talon crawled out of the large pipe, even if it was large enough that crawling was unnecessary.
Jacob disregarded the Talon, though, and the ghoul did not attack. Idly, Tanya wondered about the differences between what appeared to be varying qualities of ghouls. Was this one some kind of failure, or was the method of creation inferior somehow? The ones that Jacob brought with him were indistinguishable from the alive, if not for the magical stench of ectoplasm.
Although… she supposed they could be technically alive still? Ra’s Al Ghul smelled a bit different than the Talons, but his Lazarus pit was just magically attenuated ectoplasm mixed with a mineral water pool, she’s had people experimenting on the pure, not-tainted-by-Gotham stuff for a while in an attempt to create a superior product for a while… The regenerative compound they did manage still had extremely nasty mental side effects, to the point that Arkham had… shit. Those test subjects were probably loose now, weren’t they? Depending on the matchup, there may be some injuries. Ah well, the madmen who were collectively known to the Gotham Villain community as Revenant, Dullahan, and Grim were dangerous by Gotham standards, but in the grand scheme of things they weren’t. Bruce assured her that she wasn’t the only one who was responsible for the creation of a few villains, and that beating herself up over it was counterproductive. Yet another example of Bruce failing to listen to his own advice.
Finally, they arrived at a place with other people. It was an ampitheatre, with richly appointed viewing boxes filled with people in suits, nice dresses, and owl masks. Unlike her own, which came with basically zero adornments, each box had at least one member with a mask that had a few extra flourishes, clearly a sign of rank.
Tanya was halted when she was in the central performer’s spot, and he stood in front of her, tapping something on his lapel, probably a microphone. “Thank you all for coming.” He began, “While the Church of Crime continues to harass and sap at Gotham’s grand walls, it is in times of chaos such as this that we are free to prove our superiority over the rabble, taking advantage and furthering our positions, both individually and collectively. But there is one injury to our power that that evil god’s cult struck once that has never healed, and today is the day we recover from that wound, once and for all. Those of you who were here the last time know what I speak of.” There were solemn nods exchanged between the ones with fancier masks.
Hm? Do the Court of Owls have some additional insight on the Religion of Crime? It could just be that Jacob is speaking ignorantly with confidence, but… well, while there does appear to be some kind of magical barrier, it shouldn’t stop her from teleporting out if she wants, it’s oriented towards keeping things out instead of in, so she can afford to play along for the intel.
Jacob continued his long-winded, roundabout speech, never once saying something actionably illegal, every word cloaked in deniable innuendo. It was easy enough to follow despite this, although she’d be completely lost if she hadn’t already spoken with Simon Dark on the subject of the Court.
Still, it was pretty interesting to know that Bruce’s parents were members of the Court. Or at least one of them? Tanya wasn’t sure if she was interpreting his double-speak correctly there.
“-so I now present to the Court, our newest initiate.” Jacob finished, stepping aside.
After a beat, Tanya figured out that she was expected to speak. Instead, she used a bird call, one of the barn owl. It was what the mask looked like, and Batman had invented a bird call system of signaling in the event of comms being down in the field, so they all learned how to do a few different ones, although like most of the weirder training, she only participated because she’d never spend time with both Bruce and Richard simultaneously if she didn’t. The barn owl hoot was to indicate having found a corpse or otherwise signal that people have died. Quite a few of the masked aristocrats understood the joke, and there were a few scattered chuckles.
Jacob sighed in frustration, and left the stage. “Now what?” Tanya asked, tilting her head in what she hoped was an owl-like manner. She held her hands straight behind her back, forcing her posture to lean a little forward and also be a bit more bird-like.
“Now,” Said the one with a fancier mask, an older woman whose voice, wheelchair, and adorably ugly dog prickled Tanya’s memory: Constance Cobblepot, mother of Oswald and also the one who is actually in control over the Cobblepot investment portfolio. They no longer controlled their ancestral steel industry ever since Carnegie shoved them out and they never succeeded in any other industries; conservative investors that managed to not lose their massive wealth in the over one hundred years since then, which was an accomplishment worth noting. “-it is time for the initiation.”
The last and only time she saw Constance up close, Tanya distinctly recalled the woman trying to act grandmotherly, introducing her grandson through her daughter, the cute and very funny Barry Wycliffe. He was the youngest of her high society suitors, and had a similar sense of humor, an irreverent prankster who was willing to look stupid in pursuit of laughs.
Still, if there was obligatory hazing, she’ll play along or cheat. “Bring it on!” Tanya said challengingly, arrogantly. “I can handle anything you guys can dish out.” Whatever it is, she’s only eleven, and they wanted her to join; it couldn’t be that bad.
“Arrogance.” Constance said, clearly annoyed at her lack of deference. “The Court demands little of its members, but what is demanded must be obeyed without hesitation, or the Talons will turn against your throat. Control over Gotham is not for the weak of heart.”
Tanya had a few guesses as to what the hazing was with that lead-in. So nothing painful, just more of a blackmail situation. “Bring it on.” Tanya repeated.
A man was dragged onto the stage with the Talons. They looked very close to Richard, but blurred a bit, a sniff of the magic confirmed that he was a fake, a Talon in disguise magic that she could partially see through. Constance didn’t comment on the sharp inhale, probably mistaking it for shock. “The Grayson child does not belong among us, he is only fit to act and die at the whims of those who matter.” Constance said, “To join our society, earn your place among the Court of Owls, he must die.”
Tanya shrugged uncaringly, taking out her Atlantean combat wand and using it to create a whip of water, which she used to cut open the throat of the Talon, sending blood spraying far enough that a few droplets of it got on her face and dress. “Done!” She chirped, keeping the wand in hand. Idly, she formed the water weapon into a fencing saber, keeping it ready in case the Talons attacked.
After a moment, the fake Richard regenerated, as she did nothing to stop it. “...Very good.” Constance said, “The Voice of the Court will be pleased.”
Another man with a more elaborate mask grunted. “She knew it was fake.” He said grumpily. If she had to guess… Maxwell Powers? He was Gene's grandfather.
Tanya shrugged. “It was pretty obvious.”
“Ah, but she still didn’t hesitate to take a life.” Constance said, “Even if she knew it wasn’t Grayson.”
“You were supposed to order the Talons to kill him, by the way.” Said another, younger member of the Court sarcastically. This one had a plain mask, and… Tanya couldn’t quite pin the twenty-ish girl on so little. “That was ice cold, though.”
“I didn’t freeze it, though…” Tanya said, deliberately missing the point. She froze the water saber with a flex of magic through the Atlantean combat wand while giving her best battle maniac grin, although it was hidden behind the mask. “Okay, I’ll be cold this time.” The funny thing was that these ghouls would have a hard time restoring themselves from being frozen and shattered.
“That won’t be necessary.” Jacob said, arriving in one of the boxes with the fanciest mask: it was made mostly of gold. He had actually put some effort into disguising his voice, and changed his suit, but she could, with a little focus, identify him through any disguise via blood magic, due to being a blood relative, albeit a somewhat distant one. “Although your enthusiasm for our cause is noted.”
“Cool mask.” Tanya said, pretending not to notice his identity. “What’s your title? Grand Wizard? Prime Warlock? This place drips of magic, it’s gotta be something like that.” She did know from when Constance said it earlier, but she clearly wasn’t paying attention.
“Be respectful to the Voice of the Court.” Hissed another member, one with a low ranking mask. Nothing really distinguished them…
“So what now?” Tanya asked, allowing her gaze to drift as she attempted to identify the members of the Court through visual cues. No one the right age to be one of her suitors was here, so she was probably just recruited so early due to opportunity instead of it being normal at this age.
“We retire to the meeting room, and discuss matters of import.” Jacob said grandly, “The Talons will guide you.”
Sweet, she impressed them enough.
-----------------------
[Morgan Edge, leader of Intergang]
The plan was going so well! Earth’s glut of magical power was a prize worth taking, and to do that properly, there were only three places that could possibly act for the plan: Atlantis, London, and Gotham. No other place had the right combination of urban development and magic to open the way.
Of the three, Gotham was the best option: Atlantis had more magic, but it was far less controllable to him than a normal city. London had less magic, and was about the same difficulty to control.
But Gotham also had a better culture, already used to knuckling under the boots of the powerful. Yes, the Batman was a concern, but his existence was a symptom of a much greater rot that the Dark Faith would flourish in. Recruits were plentiful, and the shows of the Dark Faith’s strength and subsequent wealth has drawn many of the weak-willed to his banner.
But his further attempts to spread chaos, showing the truth to the world about the necessity of his Master’s work… it didn’t go to plan. Batman did the one thing that Morgan had never even considered that he’d be willing to do: he called in the Justice League.
Even now, criminals riding high on the power of his master and with the assurance that The Batman would be far too busy to deal with them… found themselves facing Superman. Or Wonder Woman. Or Martian Manhunter. Or the Flash. Or the dozens of knockoffs and sidekicks that came with them!
Sure, they were proving him right… but He will not be pleased. Or maybe he will. It was not his place to predict the Master’s moods. So while he hasn’t yet lost… there wasn’t much time left until the League closes in.
All in. Morgan went to his vault, and started opening it up. The security systems on this one were elaborate, and like most of them, destroyed the contents if not opened precisely correctly. There was always a moment of fear, when he accessed these things. His Lord was not forgiving of the one Sin that truly matters: failure.
But his fear was baseless: the vault opened and revealed a bounty of technology; but the only one that truly mattered was the one he extracted: The Mother Box. An interstellar, interdimensional communication device, able to handle the bandwidth of a small Boom Tube on its own, but with the systems back on Apokolips handling the other end… With his Lord personally exerting himself… armies could be transported.
Hopefully, his Master would do so. Because the window was closing, and it would take decades to rebuild Intergang’s strength.
With shaking hands, he started the Mother Box’s boot-up sequence, opening up the communication channel to the quantumly entangled receiver back on Apokolips. A holographic image lit up after two minutes of waiting. Orion, the son of Darkseid, answered his call.
Morgan distinctly did not wince or cringe at this outcome. He sure wanted to, though. Orion was seen as an extremely conservative commander, not really inclined to take risks. Most thought it because of his inferior education with the New Gods of New Genesis. However, he had been sanctioned in the past for a risky assault that had completely failed, practically self-sabotaged, and had overcompensated. He would never approve of his request for the attack to commence early.
“Report.” Orion commanded.
“As per my previous report,” Morgan began, “-my cell has taken action to destabilize the weak systems and force authority to crack down or break up.”
“Your previous timeline had your completion in two more local days.” Orion said, frowning.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid there has been a complication.” Morgan said, sweating bullets. “The Justice League has responded-”
“Who?” Orion asked, his helmet disguising any change in his expression.
“They’re the nascent planetary military.” Morgan explained, “They have the strength, but lack the wisdom of Darkseid and subordinate themselves to the weak structures of power that allow chaos to thrive.”
“But they’re imposing Order?” Orion asked, sounding intrigued.
“Now, yes.” Morgan agreed. “But this means our timetable has accelerated. If we are to impose the will of Darkseid, it will not be long until the ideal moment, and the window will close, as the Justice League will release the reins quickly.” It would also be a less ideal moment than initially planned, but it’s either now or never.
Orion took a long moment, letting Morgan stew in his own nervousness. “They would oppose Darkseid?” He asked.
“Yes sir.” Morgan said immediately. “The Justice League has fought off two other invasions. None with the power of Apokolips, of course, but their opposition to our Lord is certain. They have many powerful members, including a Green Lantern, a Lord of Order-” Well, no one’s seen Dr. Fate in a while, but the Lords of Order have long opposed Darkseid, jealous of his superior ability to manage Chaos. If anything would bring the ancient being out of hiding, it would be this. “-and a Kryptonian warrior.”
Orion’s frown deepened. “How much time do we have?” He asked. “These are not foes one engages half-prepared.”
“Maybe a day.” Morgan replied, “If we do not move now… They know that Intergang has backing from off-planet, we cannot simply start over. We may never be able to achieve more favorable circumstances.”
“So you have failed us.” Orion said, his frown vanishing. Nothing pleased Orion more than to see another draw his father’s ire instead of him.
“It is not failure!” Morgan insisted, “The conditions are right! The Justice League will be weary, and the Mother Box is tapped into the most suitable location on the planet, just as I was ordered! Sixty years of build-up, to prepare Earth for Darkseid! It is time!” Wait… “S-sir!”
Before Orion could condemn him, the image vanished, instead being replaced with… Darkseid himself. Morgan’s knees buckled as he prostrated himself before his God. “Earth?” Was Darkseid’s only question.
“Yes, M’lord!” Morgan said, heart pounding. “I have been doing my duty, as assigned! Earth is as ready for conquest as it will ever be. The defenders are weary from my actions, and they do not know the magnitude of what awaits them!”
Darkseid… smiled.
Comments
irregularGremlin
What! Orion working for his father? That's an interesting change? I wonder what brought upon it
