Devil's consultancy 29

“So let me get this straight.” Amanda Waller said after their introductory explanation. “You, a global defense agency, want access to my comatose prisoner, that your people put him in even,” She glared at Gear, who was about to clarify, but he quieted at the withering look. “-so you can perform an ‘investigation’ based off of the astrophysics calculations of… him.” She said, gesturing to The Question, “A private detective with no physics education.”

“We ran the numbers ourselves, Ms. Waller. The Watchtower’s systems are the best on Earth for astrophysics problems. They check out.” Superman said patiently. “We even narrowed it down to a date and rough location, numbers in space don’t line up that neatly by accident. We came prepared to wrestle him back down if he somehow managed to recover in the short time we’re studying him, as well as anyone else that might escape.” 

“We came prepared, Ma’am.” Captain Atom contributed. 

Waller harumphed. “Well, nevertheless, it’s my prison, and information regarding his health is legally protected. You’re operating outside your mandate, Boy Scout.”

“Our mandate covers the distribution of information regarding alien technology, biotech included.” Batman said, prepared for this line of argumentation. “As was established as case law during the Quantum Vapor incidents, this extends to verifying whether or not something is, in fact, alien technology.” As it turned out, Quantum Vapor was indeed based off of a mutagenic substance looted from Earth’s first alien invasion. “We have evidence suggesting that Doomsday may not be as alien as was previously believed.”

“So you’re investigating alien technology because it might not be?” Waller asked, amused. “I wonder if a Judge would agree with your logic, applying their ruling in the opposite case…” At this point, Rhine was pretty sure Waller was just high on power. Unfortunately, that still leaves the possibility that she’d tell them to take a hike just to prove she can.  

“It’s absolutely alien technology, don’t put words in our mouth.” Superman said, less patiently. “But it might be alien technology wielded by human hands, which is why we want to trace his origins. We don’t need whatever protected records you have, we’ll do our own scans.” They’d want to verify the results anyway. 

“I’ve got Green Lantern’s alien database on this thing.” Gear bragged, holding up the tablet that had not left his hands for a second since they arrived. “Plus enough scanners on Track-Pack-” Which was the much less mobile cousin to his normal helper robot, Back-Pack, “-to count individual DNA strands for a comparison test.”

Waller scowled. “And yet, you’re using it for this.” She said, waving vaguely behind her where the complex proper was. 

“Waynetech’s still working on mass production.” Gear admitted, “Track-Pack’s scanners use certain materials that we can’t synthesize on Earth yet.” Rhine didn’t pretend to understand the science behind them, but it allowed for unparalleled reduction in noise, allowing for precise scans even in less than ideal circumstances. Lucius Fox was salivating to get the power of a full MRI scan, at cutting edge fidelities, in a handheld device that could be deployed in the field. Track-Pack’s scanners were a bit heftier than that, for even higher fidelity. 

“Mars isn’t willing to sell large enough quantities, and we don’t have anything that interstellar trade consortiums want that we haven’t taken off of alien ships.” Batman clarified, then his polite demeanor sharpened. “Stop playing games. We agreed to the communications blackout, but we have other responsibilities.”

“Now look who’s playing games.” Waller said, smirking. “You mean that Superman hasn’t been glancing towards Supergirl every ten seconds in case an emergency happens? She’s just floating in place, twenty miles away, watching her phone.” She jerked her thumb to the side. “That way.”

Superman took the lead again. “Look, Ms. Waller, I’ll level with you: I think Lex Luthor’s behind this. Staging a fake alien attack that he could defeat with his superweapon, that I still don’t know what it did, is exactly something he would do.” As it turned out, it was supposed to drain exotic energies, an application of Nth metal that was surprisingly advanced, although at the cost of breaking down the Nth metal into not only its component elements, but breaking those down into baser elements via nuclear fission. While in theory it could be used to depower Superman or other kinds of metahumans, Tanya thought those models were optimistic and it would likely just kill them instead. The odds of it being able to defeat Doomsday was very high. “So I’d like to see if I can find something that proves it.”

“He has means and motive.” The Question piped in, “Now we must examine the evidence.”

“Habeas Corpus is a right, we must put the body under light.” Rhine added. 

“If he did it once, he may do it again.” J’onn pointed out, “Knowledge of his methods, if that is what has happened, will help us when it does.”

Something in their argumentation, although The Wall’s face could be carved out of stone, seemed to pass whatever litmus test that Waller created for this meeting. “Alright, make your scans.” She said quietly. “That does sound like something Alexander would plan.” It was not a secret that Luthor’s done work for the U.S. government, and even a substantial amount of the technology in Belle Reve was of LexCorp make, but using his full first name indicated some familiarity… interesting. 

“Thank you.” Superman said, smiling warmly. He was the type to kill ‘em with kindness. 

Waller placed her finger on a sensor on her desk. “Prep the prisoner.” She commanded. 

-----------------------

Doomsday was wearing the same clothes as before; shorts in a green synthetic fabric, and sturdy boots that still reminded Rhine of professional wrestling garb. He was in thick restraints which actually covered up the boots, but Gear’s preliminary scan indicated their presence, if the wireframe hologram was accurate. 

“Okay, what do we do first?” Superman asked. Waller wasn’t present for this, but instead the on-staff medical director, one of the foremost authorities on metahuman biology, Dr. Hamilton was there to observe instead, on the basis that in the end, Doomsday was one of his patients. Xenobiology tended to get lumped in with metahuman biology in all of the academic fields, they had yet to speciate into distinct fields of study. 

“Rhine.” Batman said, “Is he alive?”

Dr. Hamilton looked affronted. “Of course he is!”

Nevertheless, Rhine emerged fully from Batman’s shadow and brought their face up to Doomsday’s bald head. The pattern of the hair was still mystifying, he didn’t seem to have hair anywhere except in this one place, and it was so long, in a shape so reminiscent of a balding man… Nothing on his face and arms… Rhine deeply inhaled, knowing a lot more about how to use this innate sense they had just for being a demon.  “...Yes, he does impress. His soul is strange, open to change.” Sweet, but how sweet? What undertones? Rage, lots of rage, torment, but… the flavor was simple, not complex. It wasn’t a very precise reading, but they could confidently state that this being had a soul that was less than fully mature. “Immature, not an adult, if grown in a lab, this is a result.” They nodded firmly and floated away from the prisoner, settling on Batman’s shoulders.

Dr. Hamilton’s face scrunched up into a complicated expression. “How does that work?” He asked, “She just… smells him?”

“Demons can smell souls.” Batman explained, “She’s not an expert in the skill, but it can corroborate other points.”

“Other explanations exist,” Rhine added, “His emotions are simple, is the gist.”

Dr. Hamilton grunted. “So he could just be a particularly stupid alien?”

Rhine scowled. No, that wasn’t… Argh. “My frustrations have reached a peak, release the geas, make me weak.” With a flare of hellfire, Rhine transformed into their mortal form; the adult one, that is. 

Tanya slid off of Batman’s back, clearing her throat. “Examining souls by smell is about as precise as wine tasting; that is to say, not very.” She explained, “But I can tell the difference between a child and an adult, and it’s not just a matter of intelligence. Every soul-defining trauma adds its own flavor, and Doomsday?” She waved dismissively. “He’s incredibly one-note. He’s angry, he hates, but there’s no… despair behind it. He doesn’t have a reason to hate, it’s just all he knows.”

“So?” Dr. Hamilton said, clearly unconvinced. 

“I was there during the attack, you know.” Tanya reminded him, “Doomsday spoke. He was articulate, he was on a mission. He was happy when the other Superman showed up, excited. It was all a big game to him. One he could win, until he didn’t.” Tanya turned towards Doomsday, the man with weathered features but a young soul. “...human-made or not, he is absolutely a bioweapon, created to destroy at the behest of his makers.” It was a sign of what could have been, if Mother had been given time to sink some of that blood magic hypnosis into Tanya’s mind long-term. 

Batman settled his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for your input.” He said softly, before turning to J’onn. “How’s his mind?” He said, returning to his usual harsh, commanding tone. 

“Completely absent.” J’onn supplied, “If he’ll ever recover from the Justice Lord’s lobotomy, it won’t be soon.” That was what the Injustice League called themselves. It was, admittedly, a pretty good name for a group running a fascist regime, but Tanya made sure to include an ‘aka: Injustice League’ in their case file, and filled in all of her nicknames for the members. She also decided to give not-Diana the nickname of ‘Evil Stepmother’ in the ‘other aliases’ section of her file, just for fun. 

“No brain activity at all?” Dr. Hamilton asked, surprised. He checked his own instruments. “His gray matter is regenerating…”

“No higher thought.” J’onn clarified, “Much like how you humans cannot hear once frequencies go higher or lower than a range of frequencies, I cannot hear thoughts below a certain level of complexity, even if I listen closely.”

Dr. Hamilton hummed. “Is that how that telepathy shielding technology works?” He asked thoughtfully. Mars had, as a peace offering, thrown in some telepathy shielding implant technology with the planetary shield that, while not cheap, did allow most government officials with high security clearances to not passively leak their secrets where J’onn could hear them. It didn’t render them completely immune, but it put them on the same playing field as Martians when it came to reading each other’s minds: They notice when other Martians touch their minds, and they don’t broadcast every thought so it can be picked up. 

“I don’t know.” J’onn replied, audibly annoyed like he always was when people tried to ask him questions about technology. 

“Okay, the scan’s finished.” Gear announced, “I’ll need to spend a while going over the data with a fine tooth comb, but Track-Pack’s programs did find a match in the alien database: Whatever Lex did to this thing, it was grown from Kryptonian DNA as a base. It’s been altered too much to tell for sure, but this guy probably started off as a Superman clone.”

Superman’s fists clenched. “You don’t say.” He said, his tone icy. 

“Anything that might indicate that Luthor’s responsible?” Batman asked. 

“Doubtful.” The Question said, “Lex Luthor is an egomaniac, but this ‘Doomsday’ was clearly a disposable pawn, he wouldn’t put his mark on a throwaway.”

“I’ll try and find something.” Gear assured them, “But it’s not like I have access to LexCorp’s biotech database to compare gene grafting techniques.”

The Question hummed at that idea. “I’ll see what I can do.” He said idly, “Academia is a very incestuous hive of collaborators, but they’re not very good at keeping secrets. The answer could be hiding in plain sight.” His mask, an illusion of not having a face, turned to Dr. Hamilton. “Isn’t that right, Professor?”

Tanya was eighty percent sure the Question was striking blindly with that inquisitive glance and pointed remark, but he seemed to strike a nerve. Dr. Hamilton seemed quite nervous. He quickly changed topics. “So you’re done with your scans?” He asked, “You can leave?”

“Good question.” Static said, drawing attention to himself now that tensions had risen. “Gear, you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, think so.” Gear replied, “ This isn’t exactly top priority, I’ll need months to find enough time to get through this. I might want some biopsy samples later, but I don’t need them now.”

“We did not agree to that.” Dr. Hamilton said quickly. “Non-invasive scans only.”

“Then yeah, I’m ready to go.” Gear said. 

“One more thing.” The Question pointed out, “We want a fabric sample.”

That confused Dr. Hamilton. “A what?”

Batman had already moved in, though, taking out a batarang and shearing off a sample from Doomsday’s shorts. “If he was made on Earth, his clothes likely were too.” He put the small cloth into an evidence bag, and put the bag and its new contents back into his utility belt. “This should be enough.”

Tanya took a moment to examine the prison. Wait a minute, why was he wearing the same shorts? “...Does he just not use the bathroom?” Tanya asked Dr. Hamilton. 

“Near as we can tell… no.” 

“I suppose that does explain why he was able to survive for five years in space…” Tanya said idly, tilting her head. “...Superman,”

“None of your business.” Superman said immediately, crossing his arms. 

Drat. Now she’ll never know if there are bathrooms in the Fortress of Solitude. Heh. 

-----------------------

The day was finally here: Richard was graduating from high school. Gotham Academy didn’t make a fuss over each and every graduation from one year to the other, or even moving from Gotham Academy’s subdivisions of ‘elementary’, ‘middle’, and ‘high’ schools, but they brought out all the stops for graduation from the entire institution. 

There were caps and gowns, they used a convention center to host it, there was a speech by an alumni (in this case, Senator Henry Knight), and each and every student got a handshake and photo with the Headmaster. Some luminary students gave their own speeches. 

It was rather surprising to find such familiar pageantry here; the energy levels were more typically American, but other than that, it wouldn’t have been out of place in Japan. 

“Stop it.” Richard protested as Alfred straightened his graduation robes. “It’s fine, Alfred. I don’t need help.”

“I supposed I’m just worried, Master Dick.” Alfred said, “It’s been so long, but I can remember when Master Bruce was in this position like it was yesterday.”

“What happened?” Tanya asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She probably shouldn’t have drank that coffee… But it was so good… 

Bruce laughed nervously. “Ah, they wanted me to make a speech.” He said, “I said I wasn’t going to make a speech. Then they got a Supreme Court Judge to introduce me. I had to improvise.” He took out a comb and corrected some minor flaw in Richard’s hair. “I made sure they wouldn’t do that to you, but you should still be presentable.”

“I would have been fine even if I was making a speech.” Richard insisted, waving off the comb. “That does explain why they didn’t ask, though.”

“Well, that and the fact that your extracurriculars weren’t school sanctioned, so you have no special status beyond ‘being a Wayne’.” Tanya pointed out. 

“I’m graduating two years early!” Richard protected, “That’s not special enough?”

Tanya smirked. “Apparently not.” 

“Alright, it’s time for you to wait in line.” Bruce said, “We’ll go take our seats.”

“Finally.” Richard said, exasperated at the parenting Bruce and Alfred were doing. “I’m gone.”

Once the boy was gone, Bruce turned to Alfred. “Do you have the thing?” He asked. 

Alfred produced another gown. “Yes, Master Bruce.”

-----------------------

Richard’s graduation was announced, his achievement was noted, the Headmaster said a few extra words, but they moved on. Gotham Academy may have been an expensive private school, but the class size was still large enough that they weren’t going to belabor every single student. 

After the main chunk of students, however… “Now, we honor the students that graduated from Gotham Academy’s correspondence program, for those who, for various reasons, cannot attend normal classes.” This program was pre-existing, surprisingly. As it was only available to those who required accommodations, this segment of the graduation ceremony was never long, or so they were told. 

The correspondence class this year was about ten students, and their names were called out; some of them only showed up via projector, as they were either bedridden or imprisoned (one particularly notable student was accepting their diploma from Arkham Asylum), others could manage to get to the stage, most but not all of them clearly having strained themselves. 

“And finally, the youngest graduate that Gotham Academy has ever had, Tanya Wayne.” The Headmaster announced, and as Tanya pranced onto the stage with her own cap and gown, sized for her, and struck a magical girl pose. “We’ve asked her to say a few words.” The crowd seemed to pick up in energy, interested. 

This was a bigger deal than it may have seemed. Tanya largely stayed away from the media, allowing herself to be seen, but saying very little. Yes, there were performances, both on the piano and in figure skating, some while singing, and a few isolated questions thrown her way when Bruce was the primary interviewer, but this would be the first instance of public speaking that Bruce Wayne’s daughter has ever done; and with such a bold claim of deserving a high school diploma to go with it? 

Well, it was interesting. “Hello everybody!” Tanya said cheerily, letting the sound system convery her words to the crowd. This was a great time to shape people’s perception of her public persona, this event marking the border between life phases the perfect place for some reinvention. Which was why she had her nails painted red with matching lipstick, the most respectable color. “Now, I’m sure at least some of you are thinking skeptical thoughts, on whether or not I truly deserve this diploma. I’m not going to try and persuade you otherwise, but do not make the mistake of assuming that the correspondence course wasn’t academically rigorous enough, and if you disrespect my fellow students, who have lives harder than I can even conceive of?” It really said something that even when Being X’s strategy was to inflict suffering until she gave in, he never resorted to crippling her. She faced that firing squad on her own two feet, even after all of the cruelties she had to withstand while awaiting that execution. “That would be a mistake.”

With that handled, establishing compassion towards those less fortunate, Tanya moved on to her next point. “For those of you who don’t obsess over celebrity gossip, I was born with a condition that accelerated my aging, stopped only by hormone blockers preventing me from undergoing puberty before my second birthday. So while I look only ten years old… I am, in fact, ten years old. I’ve just looked like this for the last eight years, which is also when I started the correspondence course. So the feat is not quite as impressive as it looks.” She had finally stopped taking them, but it would take at least a month, probably several months, before the blockers fully cleared her system. The current plan was to start college when she was physically college-aged, taking a gap year through the no-doubt extremely stressful growth period. Tanya was not looking forward to the transition, and a mature body was already seconds away at any given time, so there wasn’t even much to gain… but it was normal to want to resist any large changes in one’s life. 

Still, she needed to move on to her actual speech. Tanya deliberately cleared her throat and set her shoulders and expression, ensuring that everyone understood that she had been talking ‘off the cuff’ until now. “The World is changing, and you don’t need to be an adult to see it.” She began, “Superman was just the start; the rise of metahumans, the formation of the Justice League, the increased prominence of magic in the world, no longer hiding behind myth and legend.” She waved her hand and sprayed a few magical sparks, having worn a pair of magical catalysts on rings to do so without the demonic taint that was inevitable when she used magic without speaking. “We’ve taken a step on the galactic stage, and we must present a united front. We will be facing a world unlike anything seen before except in the most fantastical dreams of authors, and it is us, the next generation, that will be the ones who will need to face it directly.” 

Tanya surveyed the audience. Initially, they had largely had patronizing looks on their faces, seeing only her adorable face, but now there were a lot more serious expressions. They were listening to her words now. Good. “In the coming years and decades, there will be opportunities aplenty, and dangers abound. Despite this, we must make sure that we do not lose sight of what is right! Our history is, although not a straight line, a continual push towards a world of peace, of equality, and of progress! There will be demagogues, who seek to seize power and control by wielding their usual weapons; fear and ignorance. There will be fascists, who will insist that only they wield the intelligence and moral courage to, as they would put it, ‘do what needs to be done’, when humanities greatest advancements spring from collective effort and collaboration, not by lone geniuses who wield their intellect only in service of their ego, and greed.” See: Lex Luthor. “We must stand strong, so we can build up the foundations of an interplanetary society. If we want to remain relevant in the face of the rest of the galaxy, we must adapt. Thank you.” Tanya knew she was making a ton of assertions without a lot of actual details, but this wasn’t the proper platform for that kind of talk. The point was to establish herself as someone who could speak cogently on complex topics, setting the stage for her to be taken seriously down the line once she had grown up. 

After all, nothing lasts forever, and her happy, rich heiress childhood is no exception. Better put her best foot forward on what comes next.