FIC: JLA: "Necessary Force" Part 13 - "Parley" (1st Third)
JLA
"Necessary Force"
by Paxwolf
A.N.: This fanfiction story is set current to the (comic book version!) JLA lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. Therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.
Disclaimer:The Justice League of America and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story. Which really is quite a pity as not only am I far from wealthy, it would be oh so fun to be able to earn a living playing in DC’s grand ole Playground! (Lucky, lucky pro writers and artists!!) Original characters (OC's) do also exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)
Warnings: Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers’ Discretion is advised.
Beta Thanks To: My original beta readers from long ago, back when this Epic was begun: the encouraging kungfunurse in the S/B fandom, and the gracious gwilwilenathor, and the lovely Janet Coleman Sides, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (Stargate:SG-1 and Gatchaman respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe and provide helpful feedback.
Part XIII:
"Parley"
(A)
Kyle Rayner swallowed hard and tried to control the tremble in his hands as he stared at the monitor that Steel had set up in the shack, unable to to quite hide the anxiety eating him alive as he braced himself to see the face of the monster who had precipitated this entire unforgivable situation. He saw that everyone else around him had also immediately jumped to their feet and were crowding around the monitor, and at Steel’s wave, Aquaman and Wonder Woman resumed their positions in front of the new two-way visual communicator that Ray Palmer had just finished setting up.
He's answering, he's here, he's going to tell me where Janey is, or so help me God ...
Steel depressed a button and flashed a signal for the two spokespersons at Batman’s tense nod.
An image flickered to life on the monitor screen.
Oh, damnit, no.
To Kyle’s intense disappointment, it was immediately obvious that neither of the people who appeared on the screen could possibly be the cocky and arrogant bastard they'd been playing catch up with for the past several weeks. One was a compact, pale man wearing a military-styled uniform and a crew cut, and the other was a darker skinned woman in a sharply tailored business suit. Both stared out at the screen with identical haughty expressions. Neither looked familiar. The meta-powered red-head who had made the original televised demands to the world from the terrorized school bus nearly a week earlier was nowhere to be seen. Apparently Ayestrom kept more than one spokesman in his little army.
“Justice League,” the woman now pronounced in short greeting, gaze piercing the screen. “We represent the Lord Ayestrom. He has heard your message, and has decided in his magnanimity to condescend to speak with you.”
“This is Aquaman,” Arthur said perfunctorily, doing away now with his royal title and using his JLA one. “Where’s your master? We don't need his pack followers. We want to speak with him alone.”
The woman sneered. “The Lord Ayestrom does not sully himself in common discourse with the likes of you. You may speak with us, or no one at all." She lifted her head, ignoring Aquaman's scowl. "I am called Marcella Quintus." She indicated her companion. "He you may call Reynard Sextus.” The man did not nod but continued to stare at them levelly. “We are commanded to convey our lord's rightful will to your little ‘League of heroes’.” Her accent was distinctly European, although it was difficult to pin down any further. Her tone was distinctly contemptuous, and wasn't nearly as difficult to interpret. Her dark eyes flicked over Arthur and Diana. “Where is your leader?”
The man thinned his lips over his teeth in an approximation of a grin at Aquaman’s bristling and spoke for the first time. “It is fitting that we commence … how did you so quaintly phrase it … negotiations … only with the Superman.” His voice was thick with Czech inflections. He cocked his head to the side. “It is our lord’s wish. Produce him at once.”
“Predictable as pie,” Canary murmured, flashing a look at Batman.
Wonder Woman straightened on the platform. “We dislike your tone,” she said sharply, “Nor do we jump at your bidding.”
The woman tossed her lustrous mahogany hair disdainfully.
“Then it seems we have nothing further to discuss." She raised a thin brow. "The ... guests of Lord Ayestrom will no doubt find your ‘efforts’ on their behalf to be less than agreeab …”
“How dare you threaten the lives of helpless, innocent people!” Diana exclaimed in fury, fists clenched. “To dangle them in front of you as human shields is the ultimate act of degradation and dishonour. And of cowardice.”
Both of them looked at Diana, eyes narrowed.
“It is clear then, 'Princess', that you know little of degradation,” the man said softly. “And you should be aware that these hostages are deemed as less than nothing to our lord.” He shook his head. “Why he even bothers with you collection of self-righteous freaks and aliens, with your precious Kryptonian commander the worst of the lot, I will never comprehend.”
“Peace, Reynard,” the woman called Marcella said, shooting him a cool glance. “It is what the Ayestrom desires.” Reynard looked like he wanted to say more, but lapsed into silence. Marcella looked out at the screen with a lifted eyebrow. “Now, shall we be continuing with our ‘talks’, or shall we not?”
The four antagonists stared each other down for several seconds of angry tension. At last, Batman subtly cleared his throat and Aquaman gave a short, sharp nod of acknowledgement, though he looked none too happy about it.
“Very well,” he said in a remarkably controlled voice. “We, at least, wish to talk. Our … ‘precious Kryptonian’ has decided, in his magnanimity, that he will deign to speak to you. Unlike your master, we do not bother to classify varieties of dog. You will all be penned just the same in the end, alpha males and whelps alike.”
Reynard actually laughed. “I suppose the proof is in the pudding, as they say. Isn’t that so, ‘your majesty’?”
Kyle had to bite his lip hard to keep from rushing forward and interrupting then and there. With all the posturing going on, it seemed like they'd never get started on the talking. And he needed to know if the hostages - if Janey - was all right so very, very badly.
“I look forward to dealing out that proof,” Aquaman was saying with a hard smile of his own, as he stepped down from the platform. Diana and the woman locked gazes for a long moment before J’onn stepped into view of the camera, and the woman drew back a fraction as he appeared. Diana unclenched her fists as J’onn let Superman’s hand rest on her shoulder for a brief moment, and then she too, stepped down. J'onn turned to face the representatives, his borrowed features looking grim and entirely serious. And entirely Superman. Despite themselves, the two underlings had straightened at the sight of him.
“This is Superman,” J’onn said commandingly, with no trace of hesitation, his voice replicating his friend’s to the perfect deep pitch. “I’d like to speak with Ayestrom personally.”
The two did not respond right away, closely surveying the supposed Man of Steel and pausing as if listening to something else.
“Well?” J’onn demanded after a space, arching an eyebrow. “I'm a busy man, largely thanks to you people. I don’t exactly have all day.”
“Our Lord Ayestrom would like nothing better than to grant your request, alien,” Reynard replied, looking rather slyly at him. “Can we take that to mean that you are willing to rendezvous with us - in the flesh?”
In alarm, Batman opened his mouth, but J’onn simply raised a hand, not glancing away from the screen.
“Don’t be ludicrous,” he said calmly. “Your ‘lord’ knows as well as we do that, as in any war, generals don’t simply hand themselves over to the opposite side in negotiations. That wouldn’t be overly bright on our part, now would it? I may be no general, but no matter what Ayestrom may think of me, I believe he knows I’m no fool.” J’onn stretched his mouth into the high-voltage trademark Superman smile. “No, I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Sorry, you go right ahead and inform your master that I’m here, now, with this transmission alone, and willing to barter with him in good faith. And nothing more.”
“Ah. He will be most disappointed.”
J’onn nodded. “No doubt. But we can’t always get what we want, now, can we?” He lifted his chin casually. “So, is said leader going to tune in any time soon? Our private little network here has a limited airing contract. The UN and White House don’t exactly like being kept out of the loop, you know, and our cancellation date is fast approaching.”
Ayestrom’s two lieutenants exchanged a glance. The woman pursed her lips and looked at J’onn through lidded eyes. J’onn merely lifted one shoulder in a slight movement, and folded his arms across his S-emblazoned chest, looking for all the world as if he held every card in this encounter, and knew it.
Kyle had to admit to being quite impressed at J’onn’s keen mimicry. His very stance exuded Superman-ly attitude. The A.A.S.S.’s themselves (Ayestrom’s Army Super Stooges, as Kyle had begun to privately dub them) now looked almost non-plussed and unsure. Then they seemed to hear something none of the JLAers could and regained their superior demeanor, looking ‘Superman’ over with projected disdain.
“As we have said,” the woman Marcella reiterated, “we are authorized to speak the will of the Lord Ayestrom. Whatever you have to offer can be transmitted through us, his loyal and trusted speakers.”
J’onn shrugged. “I assume I’m expected to be insulted by his unwillingness to make a personal appearance. Truthfully, I’d much rather forgo the dubious pleasure of a direct conversation with him anyway. So feel free. Speak on up.”
Marcella and Reynard both looked annoyed. “You began this, Kryptonian,” Reynard huffed. “Make your offer now.”
“Huh. And here we were under the impression that it was YOU who was trying so desperately hard to attract our attention.” J’onn angled Superman’s head to gaze speculatively at them. “We asked for this particular discussion, true. But it’s your faction that did everything it could to shout out at us to begin with. You've certainly succeeded in gaining that attention. So, why don’t you now tell us plainly what Ayestrom has so clearly been dying to say?”
Marcella gave him a cold look. “You denigrate our lord at your peril, Superman. He is a powerful, influential, brilliant …”
“Utilizing such kindergarten tactics as having giant toys dig big holes in the Earth’s crust, or kidnapping ambassadors and little kids?” J’onn interrupted mildly. “Doesn’t exactly promote an overflowing respect for his ‘brilliance’ on my part.”
A united front of anger met his stare. “Your slight is to be expected, Leaguer,” said Reynard, as if mastering himself with difficulty. It was becoming clear why these two had been chosen to represent Ayestrom. They were intelligent, devoted, multi-lingual, and knew to keep their tempers in check. They knew to think out every word in advance. “But you shall learn better. You will learn a great deal at the hands of our lord.” The man smiled a singularly unpleasant smile. “And as for your assertion?”
“Of you grabbing our attention through such genius-level, above-board means?” J’onn said, a hint of sarcasm in Superman’s voice. “You certainly have managed that.”
Marcella inclined her head. “We have,” she said simply.
J’onn let out a breath and gave a brief nod of his own, conceding the point. “You did at that.”
She smiled. “So, you would like to have the hostages back.”
He smiled back. “Preferably alive.”
“Of course. Our lord is willing to listen to your words, unfathomable as that may be. Perhaps he finds you entertaining.” She looked at him. “What do you have to offer?”
“What do you want?” he countered.
And that was the crux of the matter, Kyle knew. The question that all of them had been wanting to ask the madman who had orchestrated this crisis from the beginning. They only thought they knew the answer, but maybe ... could there be more to it?
Could there be any chance that reason might possibly have a chance to work with this man?
Is there be any chance for Superman - uh, J'onn, I mean - and Batman to talk things out? Get a bargain going? And get those hostages out of there?
Kyle didn't know, and although he didn't seriously believe they had such a chance, in his heart of hearts he couldn't help but nourish a hope that this ploy would yield more than their simple objective of stalling for time and gleaning bits of further information on Ayestrom's organization. For one small hostage in particular, he couldn't help but hold on to that hope.
Please, please let this help her! Please!
He waited with heart hammering and palms sweating as Reynard opened his mouth to answer the question.
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To Be continued in the very next post right HERE --- read on, fair reader, read on!
And, hooray! Am finally getting my linking to work again! So here's one to the Main Table of Contents page for All previous parts (and eventually, Later parts too) to this ongoing Epic. :-) *relief*