The Battle Begins

Chapter 1

 

It was a desolate spot, perched atop the highest peak of the Colorado Mountains.  Bare of trees or any other vegetation, the rocky summit was the prefect place for the memorial.

It had taken Kara a matter of minutes to carve the basic shape of the monument out of the rock and leveling the surrounding area so that it stood out, easily visible from the air for miles around.  For the next few days, she and Mon El and labored to enhance the monument.  Polishing and re-polishing the granite, using a combination of heat vision and intense friction they had worked the stone until it took on vivid colors of red and yellow.

And now…now they all stood beside the finished product.  Mon El, his arm snaked around the waist of his fiancée, Jennifer Walters (Once known as the She-Hulk and now Otherverse’s First, and thus far only, Green Lantern), stood quiet, tears filling his eyes. Nearby, Kara shining in her new red and gold costume, stood with her head raised to the sky in the manner of prayer normal to Kryptonians.  Though she appeared calm and collected, the white knuckled grip with which her right hand gripped the left hand of her lover belied her true feelings.  For her part, Rogue was finding it hard to reign in her own emotions.  Though she had never met the man, or any of his incarnations, She still retained a good portion of Kara’s memories.  A benefit, or curse depending on one’s point of view, of her old mutant absorption powers.  When she had absorbed Kara’s power, the power that had transformed her for all time from an Earth mutant to a Kryptonian, she had also absorbed Kara’s memories.  And now those memories threatened to swallow her as she felt what Kara must be feeling.

Standing off to the side, the twins clung to one another.  Kara had brought them to Otherverse for a visit and because she felt they should be here for this dedication.  Like Rogue, they had never met the man personally, but they had known of him, as had everyone from their respective Earths.  And like all those people, they would have mourned had he died.  And now, here they were, dedicating a monument to the Otherverse Superman.  It was as close as they ever wanted to come to contemplating the death of the greatest hero to ever exist…in any Probability!

Reaching down absently, Carrie softly scratched the ears of the one being in this small group that had actually known and loved the Otherverse Superman.  For his part, Krypto sat on his haunches, head held high as if quite aware of the solemn nature of the occasion and showing his approval.  Though he had seen his master both good and bad, the love that had existed was still there.

They stood in silence, knowing that far over head, in the orbital satellite that now housed the entire Kandorian population, all work had ceased as the last remnants of Kryptonian society paid it’s final respects to one that, though not of their world or Probability, was a Kryptonian, none-the less.  And, if truth be known, it was also a way to say good-bye to the Kal El they had known, though he had been gone for many years.  Zor El wept unashamedly as he held his wife.  They were tears of closure, tears for a beloved nephew and, by extension, tears for a bother and a family long gone.

An intrusive beeping sprang from Zor’s control panel, accompanying a red alarm signal.

Zor savagely stabbed at the receive key, his countenance promising harsh consequences to anyone disturbing him at this time unless it was the most dire of emergencies.  His eyes widened as the news gathered from the satellite’s sensors were fed to his screen, all anger forgotten.  Instead, near panic replaced anger.  He rechecked what the sensors were telling him and slammed his hand down on the alarm switch that would broadcast an alarm throughout the station and Kara’s fortress.

Jenny tensed as the alarm on her wrist-com sprang to life.  The Wrist units were an invention of Zor El and allowed all the heroes to stay in contact with each other and the computer back in the Fortress.  As she activated the small unit, shutting down the alarm so that it would not disturb the others, Jenny made a mental note that the twins would need to be given units as well.  Otherverse was not a place to wonder around without some means of communicating with some one. With her will, she focused her Lantern energy around herself, forming a tight bubble within which she could speak and listen without disturbing the others.  Though she understood the solemnity of the situation, unlike the others, Superman had only been a name to her, not something or some one real.

“This is Jenny.”  She voice activated the wrist unit. “What’s up?”

“Zor El here, Jenny.”  The Kandorian’s voice came through loud and clear and clearly agitated. “Sensors show a large force of possible hostiles moving in on your location.  Closer examinations show that the force consists of metas!”

“Got it.”  Jenny was instantly alert and expanded her bubble to enclose everyone in the area. The first to notice was Mon. 

“Trouble coming.”  She told him in answer to his questioning look. Then, raising her voice. “Heads up everyone.  We’re about to have company!”

“Company?”  Kara was instantly alert, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to Jenny. “What kind of company?”

“Metas.”  Was the reply.  “And according to your father, most likely hostile.”  Kara turned, taking stock of their situation, her gaze stopping and lingering on the Twins.

“We can take care of ourselves.”  Carrie answered the unspoken question, her fists balled at her sides.  Kara nodded, making a mental note to keep an eye on Carrie.  Carrie seemed to be the more hot headed of the two.  She caught Rogue’s slight smile and upraised eyebrow and knew that her lover had guessed what she was thinking and was silently questioning her.  She could almost hear the words.  “Like mother like daughter?”  She shook her head slightly and cut her eyes back to the twins and Rogue nodded.  She understood that it was now her job to keep an eye on the twins and to let someone know if they got in over their heads. 

Rogue looked down and noticed that Krypto was now standing in front of the twins, his hackles raised, growling at something as yet unseen in the west.  Activating her telescopic vision, Rogue could now see that a group of no less than twenty flying metas were arrowing through the sky in their direction.  A tap on the shoulder from Mon and a nod of his head towards the east brought her attention to another group, of equal or larger size moving fast across the ground from that direction.  She nodded.  The ground-based metas would be hampered in their ascent of the mountain.  The metas approaching via air travel would have no such problem.

“What now?”  Jenny asked, she was tensed for action and waiting for whatever was to come.

“We wait.”  Kara stated through thin lips. “We can’t very well attack them without knowing who they are or what they want.”

“We know who they are!”  Carrie piped up.

“We probably do.”  Rogue cut in. “But that is what separates us from them. We make sure we are not going against innocents.”  Carrie nodded her understanding even if her face showed her distaste.  She relaxed slightly at the wave of reassurance flowed over their empathic link from Karen.

The group moved into a tight circle, back to back as the metas arrived and began to surround them.

“Well well well,” one dirty looking meta, looking like a Mad Max movie reject, spoke up. “Looks like the Big Man was right.  One swinger and five slitties.”  He smiled, showing yellowed, rotting teeth and took a step forward.  His attention was on Mon.  “Boy, you got more than you can handle here.  What say you share a bit and we’ll take these little ladies and have some fun?”

“I don’t think so.”  Mon grated through clenched teeth.  He fought a natural urge to reach out and shove Jenny behind him for protection.

“Now that ain’t friendly.”  The punk shook his head and looked back at the men behind him. “He’s not being friendly, boys, is he?”

“Not friendly t’all, Screamer.” One of the group called back. “He’s got five and we ain’t got none.  At least he could give us those two young ‘uns.  I figure they be good for a couple of…”

“That’s enough!”  Kara stepped forward, anger plain on her face.  She stole a glance towards Rouge and the twins and noticed that the girls were straining against the hands Rogue had on their shoulders, their faces white with rage. “I think it’s time you left.”

“And if we don’t?”  The leader stood, crossing his arms, a smirk of derision on his face.  He had heard what the punk in the meeting had said about these so-called heroes, but, as with most of his kind, he was too stupid to realize that there really were those that were more powerful than he. He jerked his head.  “Take them!”  He told his men.  The metas sprang forward and met…pain!

The first meta to reach Kara screamed in agony as she back-handed him out of her way, her blow smashing his jaw and sending blood flying as he tumbled away.

Mon El jumped into the fray, leaping over the rushing metas to land before the leader.

“You’re mine!”  The enraged Daxamite snarled. He waded in and then grunted as the leader swung out, his fist catching Mon in the stomach.  Mon doubled up as the wind was knocked out of him. He looked up as the leader advanced toward him, a sneer on his face.  Mon squinted slightly and twin red beams of heat vision flashed from his eyes to strike the punk in the chest.  Though he stopped, the only damage Mon could see was to the punks outlandish clothes, burned away to reveal a massive, muscular chest.  Okay, so the guy was super strong and had at least some degree of invulnerability.  Mon gathered his feet under him and sprang forward, the top of his head catching the leader in the face.

The punk staggered backwards, his arms flailing.  Mon reached out and grabbed one arm and spun around and then pulled up and over.  The punk screamed as his shoulder was dislocated and continued to scream as he sailed up and over Mon’s shoulder to land head first in the granite at their feet.  Dust and gravel fountained up from the point of impact, covering everyone in a light dusting of gray.  As the leader feebly tried to rise, Mon grasped his dirty hair, pulling his head back.

“Nighty night, punk.”  Mon hissed.  He put all the force he had into slamming the punks face back into the rock.  Without a sound, the punk twitched once and then was still.

Jenny had watched Mon’s action with a small smile.  She was well aware that his rage had come from his feelings for her.  The knowledge sent a warm tingle down her spine.  Sighing, she turned her full attention back to the problem at hand.  Though it did not take all her attention as she willed bolt after bolt pure energy to lash out, slamming punks off the side of the mountain or surrounding them with globes of energy from which there was no escape.  It took enough attention, however, to keep her from noticing the punk that slipped up behind her.  With limbs that stretched and twined as the punk stretched himself in a manner reminiscent of Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four, the punk sprang on Jenny’s back, thinking to overpower her and take her out of the battle.  He soon realized the extent of his error.

“Now that was real stupid!”  Jenny admonished as she snatched the stretching punk off her back, pulling him down in front of her.  The punk had one brief glimpse of a giant green fist descending then…nothing.

Jenny straightened up and looked around, seeing what mischief she could get in now.

“I want you two.”  The Punk leered at Carrie and Karen as he approached.  Though he was well aware that his mates were getting tossed around like so many rag dolls, he had made up his mind that he would just snatch these two slitties and run as far as he could.  He was slobbering already as his deranged mind envisioned hours and hours of sexual depravations with these two beauties.

“Gross.”  Carrie wrinkled her nose in disgust and seemingly backed away.  The punk followed, unaware that he had just been maneuvered into a position between the two girls.  As the punk, unaware of his danger, continued his advance on Carrie, Rouge turned her attention to her own problems.  She had been keeping an eye on the twins but now felt they could handle themselves.

She herself faced two punks that were really starting to irritate her.  One, it seemed, possessed not only super strength, but the ability to turn his entire body into a gas at will and then reform into a solid being instantly.  And, it seemed, that he also possessed at least some degree of precognition.  As she swung, his body would dissolve into a gaseous form, allowing her swing to pass through harmlessly.  Then he would be solid again and striking back.  One such strike caught Rogue in the mouth and for the first time in a long time, Rogue actually felt physical pain and the taste of blood filled her mouth as her lip split.

The flow of blood stopped almost as soon as it started as her Kryptonian healing powers kicked in.  Her eyes narrowed in anger, Rogue thought of the best way to fight this foe.  Obviously some gleam in her eye showed for the punk grew suddenly wary.  He watched as she advanced, taking a deep breath as she swung once again.  And, true to form, his form dissolved into a gas.  Yet this time Rogue was ready.  She released the deep breath she had taken; using what Kara had told her was one of their more useless and silly powers.  Her super breath created an instant gale like force that swept into the gaseous punk, dispersing him to the four winds.  She was not afraid for the punk’s life.  It seemed most likely that, like other gaseous beings she had known, that he would eventually pull himself together enough to reform, but it would take a while.  For now, he was out of the fight.

Rogue felt a blow on the back of her neck, followed by a weird tingling feeling.  It was a sensation she had felt enough in her life so it was no effort for her to realize that who ever had struck her was now trying to absorb her powers!  Just as she, herself, had once absorbed the powers of others.  She turned slowly to look into the eyes of the punk and saw his eyes widening as he felt himself filled with more power than he had ever dreamed possible!  For a brief moment she wondered if this was what her own victims had felt when she had stole their powers and memories.  Fortunately for her, this punks power did not seem to be as strong as her own had been.  While Rogue could have drained a person temporarily within a matter of seconds, this punk, however, had just tapped into the surface of her powers when she broke away.

“I don’t think so, leech.”  She hissed, unknowingly pegging the punk’s nickname. The punk flinched as she grasped the front of his filthy tunic and swung him up over her head and then down, face first, into the rock at her feet.  She didn’t even give him a second glance as she turned, looking for the next threat.  There was no need.  For a little while, at least, Leech was enjoying an involuntary nap.

“Stand still!”  The punk hissed.  He stopped, wary when Carrie stopped and started smiling.  He never found out what the twins had planned, however.  Before he or they could make another move, a white streak sprang at the punk.  The dirty, depraved punk had time for one horrified scream that ended in a bubbling gurgle.  The twins looked on in disbelief as Krypto stood over the punk, his muzzle red with blood as the youth thrashed, hold hands to his torn throat, suffocating in his own blood.

The twins were shaken out of their state of shock when another meta, swooping down out of the sky, snatched Karen by the hair and hauled her up, shooting into the air.  Kryptonian or not, pulled hair hurts.  Karen screamed in pain and shock, her arms wind milling as she attempted to flail at her captor.  For a brief instant panic over took her, replaced quickly by a rage she would later conclude was a combination of her own rage and that of Carrie felt through the empathic link.

“You bastard!”  She screamed.  “You want to fly?  Let’s fly!”  With that, she focused her mind, blocking out the pain from her scalp and shot skyward at a velocity that her attacker could never have matched.  Within seconds, they were traveling through the thin upper atmosphere.  She felt his fingers slacken as he struggled for breath.  She yanked her head and winced at the sharp pain.  It was enough, however, to free her from his grasp.  She spun in the air and brought her left foot up against the left side of his head.  Then, with out a backward glance, she dove back down to where the others were still battling.  She met a concerned Carrie halfway there and smiled a grim smile.  Together the twins went back to the battle.  Behind them, forgotten, the punk meta began his descent to earth.  Passed out from the lack of oxygen, his fall was completely out of control.  There were no witnesses as his body splattered onto the rocks of a far peak.

Rogue had seen the punk take off with Karen and had leapt to intercept them when she seemingly came up against a steel wall.  Clearing her eyes of stars, she looked around to see a smallish punk smiling at her.  He raised his hands but whatever he had planned was cut off by a shriek of pain as Krypto took him from behind, sinking his razor sharp teeth deep into the little man’s calf.

Rogue turned her attention elsewhere, seeing that Krypto had that one under control.  A quick check with telescopic vision showed Karen and Carrie rapidly returning to the fray.  There was no sign of Karen’s attacker.  Satisfied, Rogue cast around for another punk and found herself face to face with a punk wielding flaming hands.

“Burn, Bitch!”  The punk snarled.  Fire, blue with heat, sprang from his hands, engulfing Rogue.  For a full minute he kept it up.  Then, smirking knowingly, he allowed the fire to die, confident of what he would find.  His confidence was shaken when he met the angry glare of a totally nude Rogue.  As far as he could see, his fire had only burnt off her clothes and done no real damage.

“You twerp!”  Rogue raged, closing on him.  “Do you know how hard it was to get that costume?”  She raised her hand and then stopped, bewildered as the punk fainted…out of sheer terror of the pain she was sure to inflict upon him.  Crossing her arms below her breast, she looked down at the punk with disgust.  It was only then that she noticed that the sounds of battle had faded.  Looking around, she saw that everyone was looking at her.  Mon whistled and then grunted an ooof when Jenny’s elbow buried itself in his mid-section.  He doubled over, a smile on his face.

Rogue looked over at Kara with a totally disgusted look on her face.

“Well shit.”  She summed up her feelings.  That was all it took.  The battle tension broke as everyone doubled over laughing.  Only Krypto kept alert and soon his barking reminded them all that they still had another group of metas to deal with.

Headquarters - Borger, Texas

 

Rebel Territory!  From a point in the panhandle, near Lake Meridith, it spread out. Going as far as the Texas / Oklahoma border to the north, to the Oklahoman city of Cheyenne to the east, almost reaching Lubbock Texas to the south and far enough west to encompass the New Mexico city of Glenrio.  There were no big cities in Rebel Territory.  The largest city had been Amarillo but Buddy, taking a lesson from his father, had leveled the city to the ground.  In this day and age, cities were no longer the center of civilization, but rather the breeding grounds for disease and human trash.  And, as Buddy had discovered to his distaste, these cities were no different than the cities in his own reality:  Their sewers and lower levels had become the bastions of the cannibalistic Night People. Or, as most Rebels called them, Creepies.   Human trash that had taken to existing on the flesh of others…usually cut from the victim while the victim was still alive!

 

When the 506th Brigade had rolled through the fog into this new world, they had been lost, not knowing what had happened to them or how they had ended up where they did.  Yet the training and the discipline of the Rebels had held them together, getting them through day by day until they realized that the world they now found themselves in was really no better off than the one they had come from.  And they realized something else…. they were needed!   Punks and thugs roamed the countryside, preying on the weak, gathering in the cities, working hand in hand with the Creepies (often trading them hapless victims in exchange for their own safety…no one liked the thought of being eaten) setting up feudal estates of which they were lords and masters and the law-abiding citizens their virtual slaves.

 

Here, as in their own world, man had been taught from early ages that it was wrong to protect ones self and ones property.  They had been taught that victims’ rights were less than those of the punks and criminals.  They had been taught to never, no never, shoot anyone trying to harm them or steal from them with one of those nasty ol guns.  Buddy and the 506^th  had jumped right into the fray.  It did not take long for the punks to learn one hard lesson…man, you just don’t screw with them Rebels. They’ll kill ya dead and not blink a friggin eye!

 

The 506^th had swept through the area they now controlled like a wild fire.  A full Rebel brigade, they had numbered over eight thousand personnel.  Unlike traditional brigades of armies past, a Rebel brigade was virtually self contained.  Each of the four battalions maintained a sizable infantry and more than enough field artillery to get the job done.  Each battalion also had a sizable complement of tanks and MBT’s (main battle tanks) and numerous other fighting vehicles.  And where ever a battalion or even a company of Rebels went, small communities sprang up as people gathered together, each vowing that no punks would bother them again…not and live to tell about it.  They all vowed, to a person, that no government would ever take their guns again!

 

There were, of course, those living in the territory that had no use for the Rebel philosophy.  These people either learned to cope or, as was the case most of the times, left….quickly.  It soon became known what sorts of people were and were not desired in Rebel territory.  If you wanted to lay up on your backside and collect welfare, then carry your ass on.  If you believed in hard work, weren’t looking for a free ride, able to mind your own business and allow your neighbor to do the same, then….welcome!  If you were one of those that blamed society for making young men and boys become punks, then you would probably not make it in Rebel territory. If you were one of those that sincerely believed in the claptrap spewed for years by a liberal held government (“Lock  your car and take the keys…Don’t let a good boy go bad!”  Horseshit…good boys don’t steal cars…Punks and thugs steal cars.) then you would be offended by the Rebel’s idea of swift, hard justice.  If you believed that a person that violated the rights of a law-abiding citizen lost his or her own rights, then you would be at home with the Rebels.

 

All in all, things were peaceful in the territory held by the Rebels.  But the Rebels had been lucky.  They had years of experience in warfare behind them, but never had they faced…metas!

 

 

Colonel Buddy Raines ran a hand across his face as he paused from wading through the mountain of paper work on his makeshift desk.

 

“Problems, Boss?”  He looked up to see Rita, his aide / bodyguard smiling at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

 

“Now I know why dad never wanted this head ache.”  He sighed.  “Sometimes I wish I was back running the Rat Pack.”

 

“Sometimes, hell!”  Rita snorted.  “You’re always bitchin about that.”  The Rat Pack had been Buddy’s first assignment with the Rebels.   Just because his father was the over-all commander didn’t mean he was cut any slack.  Everything he had gained in the Rebels had been due to his own hard work and abilities.  The Rat Pack had been the first step that had eventually led to command of the 506^th.   There, as Captain Raines, Buddy had led his hand picked men and women into some of the dirtiest, hardest situations.  The soldiers of the Rat Pack were the Elite of the 506^th.  A combination of men and women trained by Ex-Green Berets, Marine Force Recon personnel, and Navy Seals.   Each member was a one man (or woman) killing machine, experts in small squad tactics, explosives, guerrilla warfare, and survival.  And they were, each and every one, totally devoted to Buddy Raines and the Rebel movement initiated by his father, Ben Raines!

 

“Yeah, well, at least I wouldn’t be sitting behind this desk!”  He pushed away and stood, wincing and rubbing his lower back.

 

“Yeah, I can see it’s making you soft.”

 

“Soft hell!”   Buddy glared at her. “There’s not a damned thing soft about me!”

 

“Can I check?”  Rita took a provocative step forward, her lips curving into a smile as she let her eyes travel up and down his hard, muscular body.  A blatant sexual look that caused Buddy to blush slightly.  He was saved from having to come up with a reply as the door flew open.

 

“Boss, we got a problem.”  Betsy, Buddy’s personal Communications tech, rushed in and, without waiting for a response, moved towards the map that covered a full wall of his CP (Command Post).  “Bravo Company, 3^rd Battalion, has hit a snag.”  She traced her finger upward on the map from Borger until she found what she wanted.   A red pin was then put in place…squarely over a tiny circle representing the Oklahoma town of Woodward.  Just outside the lines of the territory claimed by the Rebels.  “A gang of punks is entrenched here.”

 

“Civilian situation?”  Buddy demanded, the playful banter with Rita forgotten.

 

“Not good.”   Betsy shook her head.  “Forced slave labor for the men and older women.”  Her face tightened, her cheeks reddening with suppressed anger, “Forced prostitution for the younger women and girls...and sometimes the boys.”

 

“Okay, so why come to me with it?”  Buddy asked, “ Who’s in command of Bravo Company?  Why didn’t he go through his Batt. Comm? Does he want permission to cross our lines and take them out?  He’s got it…though I’m surprised he’s even asking.”

 

“That’s not it, Boss.”  Betsy again shook her head.  “He took the initiative and moved on the town.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have accurate Intel.”  She shrugged.  “The punks have Metas with them and, to put it mildly, Bravo Company got their asses handed to them.  Finally the Commander called them out.  They’ve pulled back a full fifty miles and are licking their wounds. Twenty dead and over fifty wounded.”  This last brought a stunned silence.  That was the most casualties any Rebel Brigade, not to mention Company, had suffered in years. “The rest of 3^rd Battalion is spread out on patrol. 2^nd Battalion is out of pocket as well, they are in Route to the Air Base in Ft. Worth.”

 

“Okay.”  Buddy paced, his fingers pulling at his chin as he thought things out.  “Damned good thing Dad didn’t have to worry about Metas.”  He murmured.  He straightened and looked at the tech.  “Okay, call up 1^st Batt and get them geared up.”

 

“They can be underway in about 5 hours.”  Betsy confirmed, after consulting a clipboard.

 

  “Good, They can go relieve Bravo and 2^nd Batt can remain here as home guard.”  Buddy turned to Rita.  “Get the rest of my team together and draw rations for a week…. we’re taking a trip to Oklahoma.”

 

“Like hell you are!”  “No way!”  Both Rita and Betsy blurted at the same time.  They looked at each other in surprise and then turned back to Buddy, both of them letting him know, quite loudly and colorfully, what they thought of the idea.  He listened to them for a full five minutes before raising a hand.

 

“Get 1^st Batt. moving, Betsy.”  He told the comm. tech.  He turned to Rita as the tech reluctantly left to carry out her orders. “Let me take a wild guess.  You have a problem with me going?”  His voice was dripping with sarcasm, as if he had not heard a thing the two women had been saying.

 

“Dammit, Buddy!”  Rita stormed.  “You have no business going out there.  You’re the commanding officer of the Rebels….we can’t risk you!”

 

“Correction.”  Buddy’s face had turned stern.  “I am the Commander of the 506^th Brigade.  My father is the commanding officer of the Rebels.”

 

“Buddy, face it.  We’ve been here for a year and a half.  And no one, not one person, can tell us how we got here, much less how to get back.  We are stuck here.  General Ben Raines may be the CG of the Rebels back home, but we are here and whether you like it or not, you’re the man!”

 

Buddy turned and paced towards a window and stood glaring out.  He knew Rita was right, but he didn’t have to like it.  His face melted into a slow smile as he recalled the many times he and the other brigade commanders had tried to keep his father out of the field…and how often they had failed.

 

“Okay.”  He turned and Rita frowned, seeing the smile.  “You want me to be like my father…I will be.”  He walked over to a rack and picked up his battle harness and shrugged into it. “Let’s go!”  He didn’t wait for an answer as he picked up the old Thompson that had become as much his trademark as it was his father’s and headed out the door.

 

“Wait!”  Rita hollered, her fists clenched at her sides as the door closed behind him.  The door opened back up and Buddy stuck his head back in.

 

“Coming?”

 

“Oh you’re like your father alright you thick headed….” Her voice trailed down as she continued to mutter under her breath.  She slung her M-16 and slammed the office door shut behind her as she followed.

 

“You said something?”  Buddy asked, smiling his best sickly sweet smile.

 

“No!”  Rita’s tone was sulky.

 

Buddy’s departure was delayed, though not through any actions on the part of either Rita or Betsy.  He had stepped out of his CP, almost running into his Brigade Sergeant Major and the battalion commanders of 1st and 2^nd Battalions.

 

“Something on your mind, Gentlemen?”  He demanded.  What he got was not at all what he expected.

 

“Just what do you think you are up to, you young punk?”  Sergeant Major Paul Anderson demanded.  He was one of the older Rebels, having been with the movement since the Great War in the late eighties in their own world.  One of the few that could recall with clarity the way the world was before.  Buddy had been about 8 or 9 (he wasn’t quite sure) when the balloon went up and like many his age, had blocked out the memories of those first few years afterwards.

 

“Paul?”  Buddy was surprised by the fierce tone in the Sgt. Major’s voice.

 

“Stand easy, short stuff!”  The Batt Comm of 1^st Battalion ordered Rita, seeing her shift her M16 slightly.  Ever since they had found themselves stuck in this strange world, she had appointed herself as Buddy’s bodyguard, much as that feisty little Apache, Jersey, had appointed herself to the position of Ben Raines’ bodyguard.  And, like Jersey, Rita would follow her commander through the gates of hell, armed only with a mouthful of spit, if he ordered it.

 

Paul Anderson poked a thick finger in the center of Buddy’s barrel chest.

 

“Betsy just relayed your orders.”  He told his commanding officer. “And if you think we are going to allow you to just wander off you’ve got another think coming.”

 

“I thought this was an army, not a debating society, Sgt. Major.”  Buddy growled.

 

“Yes sir, it is.”  Lt. Col. Jamison, Batt Comm of 2^nd battalion and Buddy’s Executive Officer spoke up.  “And we will follow your orders, sir.  But we will not allow you to risk yourself needlessly.  If we ever get back home, we are not going to stand up before Gen Raines and tell him we let his son get himself killed.”

 

“Face it, son.”  Anderson’s tone had softened. “You know good and well your father was grooming you to take over the Rebel Army should anything happen to him.  Now that burden is going to fall on Tina’s shoulders, or maybe even Anna’s.”   Buddy nodded.  Both Tina and Anna were his sisters.  Tina adopted by Ben long before Buddy had found his father.   Anna was the Romanian girl Ben had adopted a few years earlier when the Rebels had made their second excursion over seas.

 

“They’ll have to do it because chances are we won’t be going home.”  The Batt Comm of 1^st battalion said. “Hell Buddy, this is our home now.  Like it or not.  And like it or not, it’s time you started accepting the fact that you are more than just a brigade commander.  Brigade hell!  DO you realize that since we’ve been here, just from this small area, we’ve picked up enough people to form two more brigades?  As of right now, we can field over 24,000 personnel!”  He looked Jamison and, after receiving a nod, he nodded to the Sgt. Major.    The Sgt. Major grimaced and placed a small box in Buddy’s hand.  Mystified, Buddy opened the box and stared without comprehension at the small, silver stars.

 

“We’ve canvassed all the troops sir, even your own people, the decision was unanimous.  We know we are here to stay.  We want the Rebel movement to take root and grow here and we need you to do that.  We will follow your orders sir, but we reserve the right to keep you from getting your ass shot off.”

 

“Paul…I can’t …you can’t….”

 

“Oh yes we can.”  Anderson answered with a smile.  “How do you think your father was promoted to his position?” He stood back and did something Rebels very seldom did.  He came to attention and brought his right arm up in a perfect military salute, the Batt Comms following suit.  “The Rebels are ready for your orders…General Raines!”

 

 

“I am not a damned general.”  Buddy groused.  He was setting in the passenger seat of an armored HumVee (commonly called a hummer), glaring at the stars, still in the box, in his hands.  In the hummer with him was his personal team.  Rita – the bodyguard, Betsy – communications, and Scooter – his driver.

 

“Begging the General’s pardon.”  Scooter broke in on his thoughts.  He paused as he twisted the wheel of the hummer to avoid a large pothole.  Like the roads in the old world, as many of the Rebels were beginning to call their home reality, the roads in this new one were badly deteriorated.  Years of neglect were beginning to take their toll. “But you are.”  He finished.  In the back seat, Betsy was gripping her radio with white knuckled hands as Scooter crowded the ass end of an Abrams MBT (Main Battle Tank).   For her part, Rita was taking in the slowly passing scenery, her M-16, as always, in her hands.

 

Five hours after his sudden promotion, he had pulled out with the 1^st battalion of the newly designated 1^st Brigade.  They didn’t have time to wait, so Buddy had left Jamison in charge of forming up the two new Brigades Veterans of the old 506^th (renamed the 1^st) would be shifted around to make sure the two new brigades had seasoned soldiers.  Buddy was fairly certain that the 1^st Brigade, and especially the 1^st battalion of the 1^st Brigade, would still maintain a majority of the veterans since it was the brigade assigned to birddog him.

 

Though less than a hundred miles away, the condition of the roads would mean the brigade would not reach Bravo Company’s position until the next morning.  Buddy had already sent the Rat Pack, under the command of Captain Dianne (no last name…like many children after the war, she had no recollection of her parents or what her surname might have been.), out ahead to scout things out.  They had already made contact with Bravo Company and then passed on towards Woodward.  Knowing Dianne, she would get as close as possible and try to grab a prisoner.  Dianne was one of the best at silent ops Buddy had under his command.  Better, in his opinion, than he was himself!

 Captain Dianne made a motion with a hand and instantly the members of her Rat Pack became one with their surroundings.

 

They had slowed their approach, removing or taping down any equipment that might jingle or jangle for silent movement, when the point man had signaled contact.  No one moved and Dianne kept her eyes on the point man, waiting for him to either signal the all clear or give some indication of what the situation was.  Finally the point man held up a hand, showing one finger.  He then made a few more gestures and Dianne nodded her understanding.  A single unknown had been spotted. Sneaking up on the enemy position.  Dianne was not one of those that believed ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’.  Until she discovered otherwise, any unknown would be treated as a potential hostile.

 

She caught the eyes of three of her team and made a snatching motion.  The soldiers nodded their understanding and faded into the underbrush.  They would move around and try a silent grab.  Only if they were sure of failure would they resort to killing the unknown.

 

Gathering the remainder of her team, Dianne then backed off to wait for her snatchers to return. 

 

“Captain Dianne on the horn, Boss.”  Betsy called from the hummer.  At the moment, Buddy was cursing the roads that had slowed his battalion even more.   So bad were the conditions, one of the MBT’s had thrown a track.  The convoy was halted until the vehicle could be repaired and made ready to move on. “Rat pack has a prisoner.”  Betsy filled him in as he returned to his Hummer and reached for the mic.

 

“This Little Eagle, whatcha got chickie?”   He drawled, depressing the button to speak.  Betsy shook her head at the Boss’s complete lack of radio protocol.

 

 

 “They just pulled out, Sir.”

 

Buddy was standing outside a small camp set up by the forward unit, talking to the Company Commander of Bravo Company.

 

“Everyone?”  Buddy gave the commander his full attention, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

 

“No sir,” The Captain shook his head. “Just the Metas.  The rest of the punks are still holed up in the town.  They’ve threatened to start killing off their slaves if we move on them.”

 

“Any idea….”

 

“They moved towards the north and are making quick time towards Colorado.”  Betsy broke in, anticipating Buddy’s question.  “They’ve linked up with other groups but the people we have trailing them insist that they are heading full speed towards Colorado.”

 

“The person your Rat Pack snatched seems to collaborate that, sir.”  The Captain confirmed.

 

“And where is this person and what was he doing when he was snatched?”

 

“It’s a female, sir, and from what Captain Dianne has told me, she was there on her own, getting Intel.”

 

“I wonder who she’s working for.”  Buddy mused.  He motioned for the Captain to lead the way. “Let’s go talk to this female.”

 

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not the self-assured woman standing in the middle of a tent set up by Bravo Company as Buddy’s temporary CP.

 

Buddy took a long look at the woman while she returned the scrutiny and then moved behind the makeshift desk.  He unhooked his web belt and slung it across the desk, making sure the flap oh the pistol holster was open, granting ready access to the colt .45 nestled there.  He decided to take a page from his father’s book.  Seating himself, he gazed at the woman, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

 

“So, what’s your sob story?”  He barked, suddenly.  To her credit, the woman didn’t even flinch.  In fact, she did not look the slightest bit concerned.

 

“Sob story?”  She cocked her head slightly, giving him a look that spoke volumes of her self-confidence.   She shook her head.  “No story. None, that would interest you, I am sure.  I must admit, however, that you surprise me.”

 

“Surprise?  How so?”

 

“Well, for one, punks like you aren’t usually so clean nor so well organized.”  There was no scorn in her voice, yet Buddy knew that she had pegged the Rebels as nothing more than a punk gang.

 

“Well,”  he consulted a pad that had been placed on the desk.  According to what Captain Dianne’s preliminary interrogation had discovered, the woman’s name was Sherri Penison and claimed to be an ex-policewoman from Kansas City. “Tell me what a Kansas City cop is doing in Oklahoma.”

 

“Obviously you haven’t been to what is left of Kansas City, lately.”  The reply was dryly given.  She paused and sighed.  She indicated a chair and gave Buddy an inquisitive look. At his nod, she placed the fold-up chair in front of the desk and took a seat. “Look, I may be making a mistake here, but I have a feeling we are on the same side.  Frankly, you don’t strike me as a punk.”

 

“Gee thanks.”  Buddy drawled. “As far as us being on the same side, which side might that be?”

 

“The side that wants to rid this land of punks and crud and crap like the scum in that town.”

 

“The metas?”

 

“Them too.”  Sherri nodded.  “Though not all metas are bad…”

 

“And just how do you figure that, Ms. Penison?”  Buddy cut in, jumping all over her statement. “From all the we have heard, there are no such things as good metas.”

 

“At one time, that was true.”  Sherri hedged.  “Things have changed.”

 

“You work for Supergirl!”  It was a statement, not a question.

 

“You know….”Sherri trailed off, realizing she had been suckered.

 

“No.”  Buddy shook his head.  “I suspected.”

 

“Well, no. I don’t work for K…Supergirl.  Not directly, anyway.”  Sherri seemed slightly unsettled for the first time. “She doesn’t even know where I am or what I am doing.”

 

“And what exactly is it your are doing?”

 

“Gathering information.”  She paused. “Look, I don’t know where you came from, but I know enough to realize that your people are not from this world.  If you had been, I would have learned of you long ago.”

 

“Actually, we’ve been here for about a year and a half, but your are essentially correct.  Go on.”

 

“I’m going to tell you a story and it is going to take a while.”  Sherri said, after a moments thought.

 

“We have time.”  Buddy nodded.

 

 

“So Supergirl and the others neutralized this artifact.”  Buddy mused when Sherri finished her story.  It made sense. And, if what Sherri said was correct, it also meant that they were indeed stranded in this reality forever. “And now the metas are after her.”

 

“Yes.  And now they are organized.  At least to some degree.”  Sherri agreed.

 

“This Lex Luthor you mentioned.”  Buddy nodded.  “What, exactly does he get out of it?”

 

“Power.”  She paused and reached a hand into the breast pocket of her fatigues.  She pulled out a small, paper wrapped object and tossed it. On the desk before Buddy.  Looking her in the eyes, Buddy slowly unwrapped the package and then took a sharp breath…the paper had come away to reveal the much tarnish emblem of a bygone era.

 

“Lex Luthor is wanting nothing less than the restoration of the Third Reich!”  Sherri announced, reaching over to tap a fingernail on the swastika Buddy held in his hands!

 

 

In the end, it was decided that 1^st Brigade would bypass the punk infested town.

 

“Your company is assigned to 3^rd Battalion, 2^nd Brigade.”  Buddy told the Bravo Company commander.  ‘You’ll stay behind and stay low while we’re pulling out.  With any luck, the punks in the town will assume that you are pulling out with us.  They should relax their guard and allow you to take them out with a minimal of civilian casualties.  I’ll leave Capt. Dianne and the Rat pack here to help out.”

 

“I appreciate it, sir.” The Company Commander nodded.  He didn’t salute.  No Rebels saluted another in the field.  It was one sure way of pointing out officers to any enemy eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it, general.”

 

Buddy glowered at the smiling commander and cut his eyes to his personal team, wondering who had spilled the beans about his ‘promotion’.

 

“Okay, Betsy.”  He sighed. “Get everyone mounted and let’s get moving.  We’ve got a Supergirl to meet.”

 

It was clear after the first few hours on the road that they were not going to be able to catch up with the metas so long as they were restricted to the speed of the tracked vehicles and towed artillery.

 

“Leave them.”  Buddy ordered.  “Let them come on at their own speed.  Leave enough infantry to protect them.  The rest are to move at maximum speed allowable by the roads.”

 

So it was that the light infantry and wheeled battle vehicles moved out, pushing their vehicles to the max.

 

For two days the Rebels bird-dogged the metas, stopping when they stopped, moving when they moved.

 

“We think we got a good idea where they’re going.”  A tired looking Betsy came to Buddy with the information.  She stepped up on the front grill of the hummer and spread a map out over the hood.  She looked it over for a moment and then stuck her finger down on a spot to the north west of Boulder. “They’re heading up through here.  For some reason, they seem to be heading right up into the mountains.”

 

“They obviously believe Supergirl is up there somewhere.”  Sherri offered.

 

“And why should they think that?”  Buddy asked.  Sherri merely shrugged. “Okay, let’s assume they’re right.  Supergirl is up there.  So what do we do about it?  We are not going to catch them before they reach her.  Not at the rate we’re going.”

 

“Actually, we can not only catch them, we can flank them and get ahead of them.”  Betsy offered.  “They are taking this route.”  She traced her finger along a path on the map.  “However, if we take this route,” now her finger followed another path, “then we can get ahead of them and be waiting for them when they reach this point.”  She poked her finger down on a spot.   Buddy thought for a moment and then nodded.

 

“Let’s do it.  Get a team of scouts out and have them scope the area.”  He said.  “We can’t wait for their report, however.  We’ll have to already be moving.”  He frowned. “This is going to be a hairy one.  We’ve only got light arms and mortars.”  He shook his head. “Can’t be helped.  Let’s get em moving.”

 

“Scooter, if you hit one more pot hole I’m going to shove this M-16 right up your…”

 

“Rita, leave Scooter alone.”  Betsy complained.  “He has to use both those brain cells of his to drive.”

 

“Boss, tell them to leave me alone.”  Scooter whined in a fake nasal tone as he swerved to miss a large pot hole…only to hit a smaller one.

 

“We’ve been lucky so far.”  Buddy was telling Sherri, ignoring the playful banter of his team. “No one has taken a shot at us during the past few days.”

 

“The metas.”  Sherri said, confirming Buddy’s thoughts.  “ Every one has gone into hiding until they are well past.  The only people that are even likely to be around are friends of the metas.  Punks, outlaws, and that crap.”

 

“Exactly.”  Buddy mused.  “So why haven’t we had any encounters?”  He paused and then turned to Betsy.  “Get on the horn to the scouts.  Have them slow down and be on the look out for signs of an ambush.  After you finish that, have the column halt.  I have a bad feeling we just walked into a trap.”

 

The words had barely left his mouth before a round slammed into the windshield, spidering the shatterproof glass.

 

“Speak of the devil.”  Scooter muttered, cutting the steering wheel hard to the right.  In an instant the vehicle had stopped and everyone was piling out as weapon fire from both sides of the road ripped into the column.

 

“Betsy, get mortar teams set up.”  Buddy ordered as he hit the ground.  He jacked a round into the chamber of the old .45 Thompson and searched the tree line. “Return fire!”  He yelled out, putting action to his words.  His weapon chucked out it .45 song of death, stitching one punk from left hip to right shoulder and throwing him backwards several feet.  In an instant Buddy was on his feet, rushing the tree line, his Thompson belching lead death as he advanced.

 

“Damnit General, would you please get your ass down and back?”  A frustrated Lieutenant called as Buddy’s personal guard moved into to surround him.  His personal team, with Sherri in tow, moved in beside him.  He raised his eyes at the weapon Sherri carried.

 

“What the hell is that?”  He demanded.  He looked over at Rita.  The bodyguard shrugged.

 

“It’s the weapon she was carrying when she was captured, Boss.”  She said. “We figured if she wasn’t a prisoner, then she could have it back.”  Her eyes widened as Sherri brought the weapon to her shoulder and fire off several three round burst…of pure energy!  A punk caught in the path of the fire screamed as each energy round exploded on contact.

 

“Overkill on these.”  Sherri called out over the roar of gunfire. “But just barely enough to handle most metas.  One of the resistance forces in Missouri developed them.  When we get out of here, I’ll make sure you get a coups so your people back at your base Camp can replicate them.”

 

“Gee thanks.”  Buddy growled.  His mind was racing.  If that was the type of weapon required to take out the meats they were chasing, then he had made a huge tactical blunder by leaving behind the tanks and artillery.  “Let’s wrap this up.  We got some miles to cover!”  He fired off a few more rounds and then turned to Betsy. “And make sure we get one prisoner.”

 

“How does he plan to handle prisoners?”  Sherri asked Rita.

 

“What prisoners?  Didn’t you hear what he said?”  Rita sighted in and put three rounds of .226 death through a punk’s heart.

 

“He said to get prisoners.”  Sherri said, confused.

 

“No.  He said A prisoner.  Singular.  One and only one!”

 

One hour later the rebels were moving once again.  Behind them they left the dead punks and crud where they had fallen.  When asked by Sherri if the Rebels were going to bury them, Buddy had given her a hard stare.

 

“Animals got to eat too.”  Was his only reply.

 

One prisoner had been taken.  Enough to confirm that the punks were in league with the metas and were, like the metas, in the employ of one Lex Luthor.  He had no knowledge of anything dealing with Nazism.  He was exactly what he appeared to be...a dirty punk.

 

‘Hey man, I gots rights ya know!”  The punk had hollered at Buddy when he was brought in.  His face turned pure white when Buddy jacked back the hammer on his .45 and stuck the muzzle under the punk’s chin.

 

“You got nothing, punk.”  Buddy told him in an even voice.  “What you will get is a bullet if you raise your voice to me again or if I think your are even thinking about lying to me.  Do you understand me?”  The punk had nodded and then began answering any question Buddy put to him.  After a few moments, the punk relaxed and even began scratching at the back of his neck.  After about the fourth time the punk had reached back to scratch his neck, Buddy had smiled.

 

“You’ll never make it.”  Buddy told him.

 

“Make what?”  The punk was all apparent wide-eyed innocent as he reached a bit farther back.  He brought his hand forward and was slammed backward, bloods spitting from a small hole in his chest and splashing from a larger, messy exit hole in his back.

 

“What the hell?”  Sherri looked in shock at the smoking .45 in Buddy’s hands.

 

“Look in his hand.”  Buddy ordered, waving the weapon to the rapidly cooling corpse.  Rita bent over and pried the punk’s fingers open, revealing a small .22 Derringer.

 

“Damn.”  The bodyguard scowled, looking down at the miniature firearm. “I thought he was going for a knife!”

 

“How did you know?”  Sherri demanded.  Buddy only shrugged and holstered the .45.  He called for a couple of soldiers to removed the punk. “Toss him in the woods for the animals.”

 

“If they’ll touch him.”  One soldier grumbled.  “He stinks so bad a skunk would smell good.  Don’t these punks ever bathe?”

 

“Not if they can help it.”  Rita told him.  “Not if they can help it.”

 

“Okay. What have we got?”  Buddy brought everybody’s attention back to the problem at hand.  “This little ambush has cost us time.  Can we still reach our designated target before the metas get there?”

 

“Only if we are very lucky.”  Betsy answered.  “Even then, we will have to move as quickly as possible and that means going all out.   Some of the slower vehicles will be left behind.”

 

“Slower vehicles being the Bradleys and troop trucks.”  Buddy frowned and shook his head.  “I guess there is no help for it.   We have to get there.  Okay, Betsy, get everyone mounted again and let’s get moving.”

 

The rebels moved out, the slower vehicles pulling off to the side so that the faster ones could pass them by and race towards the target area.

 

Three hours later, Buddy’s Hummer pulled up, Scooter skillfully guiding the vehicle into a stand of trees for camouflage.

 “We’re here, but I’ll be damned if I know what we’re going to do.”  Buddy muttered, looking over the scant few vehicles that had been able to make the mad dash. “We have few than three hundred personnel and virtually no heavy weapons.”   Though he did not sow it, Buddy was extremely worried.  If it came down to it, he would call off the attack.  There was just no way that he would order his people into a battle they were bound to loose.

 

“Sir!”  Betsy held out the radio mic to him.  “Scouts report the metas in site.   Long eyes also reports a small battle in progress up on that peak.”  She pointed. “and base camp is on the horn….they say they have a surprise for you.”

 

“This is Buddy, go ahead base.”  Buddy acknowledged, thumbing the mic.   As usual, Betsy winced, reminding herself for the thousandth time to have a talk with the boss concerning radio protocol.

 

“Eagle, this is Eagle’s Nest.”  Base camp came back properly.  This time it was Buddy that winced.  Eagle had been his father’s code name. “We got a present for you coming up from the south.  Be advised that they will be running low on fuel and will need a landing area soon.”

 

“What the hell are you sending me, Nest?”  Buddy was perplexed.

 

“Five puffs.  Enjoy.  Nest out.”

 

“Puffs!  I’ll be damned!”  Buddy tossed the mic back to Betsy and then turned to see a highly confused Sherri Penison.  “Stick around, Ms. Penison.  You are about to get a first hand look at how the Rebels wage war.”

 

It was not long before they could hear the steady thrum of approaching prop driven aircraft.

 

 “I got the Squadron commander on the horn Boss.”   Betsy called out.  “He wants to know what you want them to do…He says they have the Metas in site.”

 

“Tell them to take the metas out.”  Buddy ordered, a hard gleam in his eyes. “Tell them to lighten their load!”

 

“Will do.”

 

On the peak above, the heroes had rounded up the survivors of the first meta attack.  Surprisingly, there had only been three fatalities.  Of course, no one knew what had become of the meta that had snatched Karen during the battle.

 

Two of the fatalities could plainly be attributed to the sharp fangs of Krypto.  Kara had studied the animal that, though it bore the same name and powers as the Krypto she had known during her life, bore little resemblance to that Kryptonian animal.  This Krypto resembled Terran Wolves more than it did any animal evolved on the planet Krypton.  Zor El had explained that this was due to the forced devolution caused by the Lantern Shard Jenny had neutralized.

 

“We can’t know what changes the Shard caused in him.”  Zor had said.  “True, he devolved into his species predecessor, but this was done on Earth, not Krypton.  While we worked to reverse the process, we noted some subtle differences.”

 

It was, it seemed, not only his outward appearance that had been changed.  While there was no doubt he was loyal to Ma Kent and, to some degree, the twins, he was also far more ferocious.  His attacks now were not to subdue.  He was an alpha male and his attacks, to protect those under his care, were meant to eliminate any threat.  When Krypto attacked, his objective was to destroy the enemy, to kill.

 

The other fatality was, oddly enough, pure accident.  The meta, knocked unconscious during the battle, had fallen and, as chance would have it, had tumbled down the peak, breaking his neck.

 

“So what do we do with them?”  Rogue had asked, looking down at the stunned and sullen prisoners.  She was, for the time being, clothed in a suit fashioned of Lantern energy by Jenny.  It was the same energy that now bound and enclosed the beaten metas. 

 

“I have a couple of suggestions.”  Mon drawled, his eyes hard.  Several of the metas had grown pale at that, anticipating the worst.

 

“Rogue, do you think you could get the girls back the otherside and back to school?”  Kara had watched the girls, seeing how they dealt with the violence and the ensuing deaths.  Though pale, they both seemed to be standing up to it well.”

 

“No problem.”  Rogue answered slowly. As if reluctant  “Why?  What are you three going to do?”

 

“I think we need to make a trip to Metropolis.”  Kara was looking towards the east. They had questioned a few of the metas as they rounded them up.  Not in-depth, but enough to know that the brains behind the metas was none other than Lex Luthor.

 

Rogue sighed.  She knew that Kara’s hatred of Lex knew no bounds.  For that matter, she hated Lex herself, and for the same reason, but not like Kara.  Kara had grown up in a world in which Lex and her cousin had been mortal enemies.  She had run up against him many times, herself.  But now tit was more personal.  Lex had once before tried to kill the twins and it had only been the intervention of Lara Night that had kept Kara from killing him then.  Now this.  Rogue shook her head.  Even Lara would not be able to stop Kara this time.  She didn’t ask if Kara thought she, Mon, and Jenny could handle the metas approaching from below.  If the ones they had just trounced were any indication, it would be a breeze

 

“Right.  Okay, I’ll get the twins back to school.  Besides, I need some more clothes.  I don’t trust this energy of Jenny’s and I would hate for her to hurt Mon if his eyes get big again.”  Jenny laughed and Mon blushed, as Rouge got ready to take off.  “I’ll try to get back before you get to Metropolis, but if I don’t you watch your ass.  And you watch out for that Lara.”

 

“The twins like her.”  Kara responded in a distant manner.  “Personally, I don’t like her.  She’s got a goddess complex.”  She had smiled slightly.  “But then, I don’t recall it ever saying in the heroes handbook that one had to like all one’s allies.”

 

“Mom?”  Kara turned to see the twins regarding her with eyes that seemed to alternate between pleading and rebellion.   “We would rather stay.  We can help.”

 

“Yes, I know.”  Kara took both their hands in hers.  “And it’s not you I am worried about, it’s me.”

 

“You?”  Though both girls looked confused, it was Carrie that had spoken.

 

“Me.”  Kara nodded.  “I know myself well enough to realize that if I took you with me into Metropolis, I would be more concerned with your safety than I would be on getting the job done.  And when dealing with Lex, I need to have all my attention focused on him and what he has waiting to throw at me.”  She shook her head.  “Don’t worry about it for now.  Right now I need to know that you are back at school and getting the education and the training you need.”  She smiled. “Believe me, the day is coming when you will be here in Otherverse full time.  When that time comes, you’ll probably wish you were still back at school.”

 

So, though still sullen the girl followed Rogue, first to the Fortress where the equipment needed to transfer between Otherverse and the Fantastic Four HQ resided, and then from the FFHQ back to Xavier’s School.

 

“Okay.  My turn to ask.”  Jenny spoke up after Rogue and the twins had disappeared from site. “What do we do with these scum?”

 

“Find a big lake and dump them in?”  Mon suggested. “They need it.  Sheesh, I could smell them a mile away.”

 

One of the bundled punks growled and opened his mouth to make a comment, his confidence raised with the departure of the three maids of might. The confidence faded as Krypto growled low, his lips pulled back to reveal red stained fangs.

 

“They could use a bath, that’s for sure.”  Jenny agreed.  She was standing over the trussed up metas, hands on her hips, her nose scrunched up as if smelling something disagreeable.

 

“Are those energy bonds of your going to hold while we take care of that other group of metas?”  Kara demanded.

 

“They’ll hold.”   Jenny attested.  “Now how, exactly are we going to deal with these other metas?  We’re going to be a bit short handed.” 

 

“We may not have to worry about it.”  Mon announced.  He had taken a moment to use his telescopic vision to check on the approaching metas.  “There’s another group down there and I think they are about to attack the metas.”

 

 

The Puffs were not, by any stretch of the imagination, pretty aircraft.  But then, they were not meant to be.  The Puffs, relics from the Vietnam War, didn’t have the sleek design of the newer aircraft.  They were designed to be exactly what they were…flying instruments of massive destruction.  Their squat stubby appearance had literally sent terror through the hearts and souls of the enemy in that almost forgotten war.  The slow. Lumbering plans, skimming along over the treetops could unleash enough firepower to completely destroy an area the size of three football fields.  Circling slowly, their cannons and guns and rockets would turn such an area into an inferno of instant death.

 

As the five puffs approached, the metas paused, bewildered.  For the most part, most were to young to remember these death dealing monsters of the air.  Those with a bit more knowledge or old enough to have seen the clips of the Puffs in action had, for so long had no serious opposition that the notion that death had come calling did not even cross their minds.

 

The puffs took up position with a precision that seemed impossible for such ungainly craft, and then, as if on signal, all five began to tremble and shake as they began singing their songs of death.  Door gunners gritted their teeth as their cannons rattled off thousands of rounds per second.  Explosions began to blow when their assistants, freed for a moment, began pumping round after round of 40mm grenades into the target zone.

 

On the ground, panic reigned.  Within seconds a full half of the metas were blown and blasted, riddled by the cannons and guns and shrapnel that turned their world into a vision of hell.

 

Form her position next to Buddy, Sherri slowly lowered the binoculars Buddy had given her, no longer able to watch the carnage.  She cast a glance at Buddy.  The commander of the Rebels did not look gleeful, or even happy about what was happening, but he did look satisfied.

 

“It doesn’t bother you.”  It wasn’t a question.  “All the death and killing does not bother you.”

 

“That’s where you are wrong, Mr. Penison.”  Buddy responded.  “The death of those innocents at the hands of these crud does bother me.  It bothers me because we were not here to rid this world of scum like this before now.  Now if you are saying that the death of that scum does not bother me, then you are quite correct.  It does not bother me in the slightest.”  He fixed Sherri with a hard look. “The rebels are good at their jobs, Ms. Penison, and that job just happens to be war.  We are not mercenaries, we are builders.  It is our desire to build a nation free of scum and punks and others that feel it is their right to prey upon the innocent.  If you wish, you could consider us the ultimate in hard assed cops.”

 

He paused to look back at the circling Puffs.

 

“In the old world, the rebels swept across the United States at least four times and around the world twice, just to rid the world of scum.”  He shook his head.  “Finally my father said to hell with it and we consolidated our power in the Southern States and formed the Southern United States of America.”  He smiled and shook his head as Sherri started to speak.  “No, Mr. Penison.  The SUSA was in no way connected to the Old Confederate States of America.  The term Rebel was given to those groups that, before the Great War, were ready to revolt against the increasingly corrupt liberal government. It had nothing to do with slavery except insomuch as it inferred that we were Rebelling against the eventual enslavement of the American people by a government that no longer even pretended to care for the rights of the people.”

 

Sherri was sure Buddy would have continued had his attention not been jerked back to the Puffs.  Somewhere within the killing field in which the metas were trapped, someone had finally decided on a plan of action.  A bolt of plasma sprang from the ground, flashing towards one of the circling Puffs.  Who ever had fired the bolt had acted with care, leading the target so that the plasma bolt would strike the Puff amidships.

 

Buddy had caught his breath and then released it with amazement when the bolt seemingly splashed harmlessly one some object between the ground and the Puff.  Whipping up his binocs, he trained them on the spot and pointed.

 

“Ms Penison,” His normally calm voice was now hardly more than a whisper. “Who in the hell is THAT?”

 

Sherri raised her own binoculars and found the area in the sky Buddy was indicating.  Even as she focused, the plasma bolt was dissipating and she could see a small figure, dressed in red and gold, floating in mid air.  Without waiting for an answer, Buddy had called Betsy to him.

 

“Betsy, get on the horn to those pilots.”  He snapped.  “Tell them we may have friendlies in the sky.  Until further notice or until attacked, no action is to be taken against any flying meta.”

 

“Got it, Boss.”  Betsy responded, already cranking up the radio.

 

“Ms. Penison?”

 

“I’m not sure.”  Sherri shook her head.  “That is not Ka….Supergirl,  at least not she’s changed her costume.  Or it could be one of her daughters.”

 

“Supergirl has daughters?”  Buddy lifted the binocs again and watched as a second, and then a third figure appeared. 

 

“Boss, the pilots are reporting a light green glow around all the planes.”  Betsy called out. “It’s not causing any harm and is still allowing them to fire on the scum.”  She paused.  “That’s confirmed sir.  It is a shield of some sort.  Some small arms fire was directed at the Puffs from the ground and the glow deflected the rounds.”

 

“That would be She-Hulk.”  Sherri informed Buddy.  “She’s a Green Lantern and that energy is a manifestation of her energy.” 

 

“That would be the big green female.”  Buddy stated.  “And that one?”  He pointed.  “The male with the red suit and cheesy blue cape?”

 

“That would be Mon El.”  Sherri told him.  She hesitated and then went on. “He is every bit as powerful as Supergirl.”  She looked around in the sky. “I don’t see Rogue or the twins, so I am supposing that the one in red and gold up there is Supergirl.”

 

The sudden silence was deafening and halted all further discussion.

 

“The Puffs all report out of ammo, Boss.” Betsy called out. “They also report low on fuel.  They are going to have to set down soon.”

 

“Have the scouts try to find a landing zone.”  Buddy said. “Tell the pilots to set down if they find a spot, otherwise wait for the scouts.”  He paused. “Tell them to wait to the last moment then jump.  I don’t want them going down with the planes.”  He turned his attention back to the now quiet killing zone. “Okay, people.  Time to earn our pay.  Move out and mop up.”  And, suiting action to words, he was off and running, thumbing the safety off his Thompson.

 

There was no real need to hurry, Buddy realized as he broke into the blood splattered clearing that had been the focus of the Puffs’ fury.  Those metas left alive were neatly trussed in green energy bands in the center of the clearing.  Standing before them, and between them and the advancing Rebels, were the three metas that he had observed in the air.

 

The stood as if in loose formation, the green giantess and the dark haired male standing slightly behind and to either side of the Red and gold clad blonde.  A fourth figure, seemingly a white wolf, stood proudly at her side.

 

Buddy ordered the rebels to hold their fire and their ground and, accompanied only by his personal team and Sherri, he stepped forward.

 

“Supergirl, I presume?”  He asked in his most polite tone.

 

“Actually it is Starfire now.”  The blonde replied.  “One of my daughters has taken the name of Supergirl.”  She paused and looked just to Buddy’s left.  “It’s good to see you again, Sherri.  We wondered where you had taken off to.”

 

“I was afraid that you all would leave once you took care of the Artifact.”  Sherri replied softly. “But I knew it would be over here.”  She indicated Buddy and the Rebels. “This is the only force I know of that could have a hope in hell of helping us.”

 

“We aren’t gone, Sherri.  And we aren’t going anywhere.”  Kara turned her attention back to Buddy and waited.  For a moment, no one moved and then Buddy stepped forward and, ignoring the soft growl from the white wolf-like animal, held out an empty hand.

 

“Buddy Raines and Raines’ Rebels, ma’am.”  He told her.  “At your service.”

 

 

“He’s not here!”  Kara scowled and shoved a desk out of her way, inadvertently sending it crashing through one of the walls of the building.

 

She was stalking through the offices of Lex Luthor’s Lexcorps offices in downtown Metropolis.   Behind her, Buddy, his personal team, Sherri, Mon and Jenny trailed.  Buddy and his team were a bit shaky, having been flown to metropolis in one of Jenny’s green bubbles. 

 

Sherri had filled Kara in on all she knew of Lex and, after Mon, Jenny and Kara had cleared a landing strip for the still circling Puffs, they had headed to Metropolis.

 

They had met no resistance from Lex Corps employees.  Indeed, to all appearances, the building had been abandoned for at least a week.

 

“Where the hell is he?”  Kara demanded.

 

“I think I know.”  Mon stooped and snatched up a scrap of paper.  At first it appeared to be nothing more than a page of doodling.  Closer examination, however, allowed the heroes to recognize what they were seeing. “Remember that Lex as attuned to the Shard.”  He went on.  “He knew exactly what it was and where it came from.”  He poked a finger at the doodles. “These three circles represent different probabilities.  The first circle probably represents this probability.  The second one, with the Fantastic Four emblem, is most likely the one you come from, Jenny.  And this one…” his finger rested on a small S emblem that was like, but slightly different, the emblem Kara had worn. “I would venture to guess that this is Linda’s probability.”  I would bet that this is where he’s gone.”

 

“Oh god.”  Jenny breathed. “Can Linda handle him?”

 

“Probably.  None of us really know the extent of her powers.”  Kara mused. “But I don’t think that’s all of it.”  She shook her head and walked to a window.  “He isn’t gone for good.  He’s gone to Linda’s world for some specific reason, and when he discovers what he’s looking for, then may Rao help us.”  She turned back to the others. “I think we’re going to need it!”

 

End of  “The Battle Begins – Chapter One”

This story continues in Jason Froikins Story “Raiders of the Lost”.

Please read that and The Twins Chapter Two before going on to

The Battle Begins – Chapter 2

 

-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2000 by Dylan Clearbrook, and may not be

-- reprinted without permission. 

-- Karen and Carrie are original creations of Dylan Clearbrook

-- Supergirl and some other characters are property of D.C. Comics

-- Certain characters are property of Marvel Comics