DUNGEONS AND DRAG QUEENS

“Yes Scott, I am sure. Now, don’t take too long, if he says no...come right back here.”

“I know I just...I have to ask.”

“I know”

She holds her golden mace out extended and the Mother Box inside it activates with its trademark ring.

PING PING PING.

BOOM.

A swirling portal of light opens up in front of Barda and she steps forward, to Metropolis, to join the fighting.

The Boom-Tube closes and I look around our apartment one last time…

"Sigh….Alright, Scott, it's time, time to give em all a show."

I Activate my own Mother Box, a standard model, a small handheld cube with glowing windows on every side.

BOOM.

I step forward, onto the brilliant floating city of…

NEW GENESIS.

It’s even more beautiful than I remember, brilliant vistas of every color imaginable and some I still can't place. Growing up on Apokolips you become used to the only two colors being red and orange, it can make New Genesis’s startling beauty overwhelming.

So overwhelming that I don't realize I am being surrounded. A group of platinum armored royal-guards encircles me. I smirk and begin to identify possible routes out of here, there are 27 that won't harm anyone involved, 32 that will and 15 that would be lethal.

“No need to run Scott, I didn’t bring this show of force to trap you.”

I’d recognize his dull cold voice from a mile away, as two of the guards part, my step-brother walks forward to greet me, wearing his crimson red uniform, he’s as stiff as ever, like showing any emotion would cause him to shatter. He removes his silver helmet and looks me in the eyes.

He is not happy to see me.

We catch up, briefly, Izaya, our father, is dead. Darkseid had his assassin Kanto strike before his invasion of Metropolis began, its sent New Genesis into a tizzy and Orion has been named the new Highfather in the interim.

Great, this just became pointless.

“I know why you’re here Scott.”

“And you still won’t help?”

“Izaya is dead, Scott, I cannot abandon our people in their time of need.”

“Their time of..he was a thousand years old, his time was coming anyway, our people are fine, it is earth's time of need!”

“I know you’re still bitter that he chose you to live on Apokolips, I understand Scott but-”

“You sanctimonious piece of shit, you’re just as bad as the both of them, two ‘holier than thou’ fathers who think whatever they decide is the will of the people.”

“Do not compare me to Darkseid.”

"Oh, what's the matter? Scared the apple doesn't fall too far from the genocidal tree?"

Orion takes a swipe at me, I effortlessly duck out of the way.

“I’m done here, screw you Orion and just remember, if Darkseid takes earth, he will be back, and he will have twice as many forces this time.”

I click my heels together and my hover discs take me soaring away. Orion was always going to be a lost cause, but he wasn't my sole reason for coming here.

I land in the Source-Chamber, silently, being careful not to alert any nearby guards.

The Source-Chamber, the only known stable crack in the Source Wall, a gash in reality itself that would allow the High-Father to confer with the source of all things directly. It is said that the traveler who discovered this gash became forever tethered to the Source Wall, a hapless traveler who could not interfere in our reality except for at this very point of convergence.

My father, Izaya told me when I was still young before he traded me away...he told me that he would come here and meditate, and every once and awhile he'd get a vision and learn of a way to help New Genesis to continue to thrive.

It’s a long shot, but that's all I have at this point.

I sit down, cross my legs, begin to hum and let my mind go blank.

Nothing happens.

Like nothing.

Still nothing.

A whole lot of nothing.

Like I’m serious so much no-

“SCOTT FREE, YOU’RE LATE.”

A distorted voice emanates from the Source and then;

BOOM.

A Boom Tube opens before me, seemingly leading into the viscous flowing energy.

I look around, I take a deep breath, I step forward.

I am floating, in nothingness, no, not nothingness, space, the cold blackness of space, I can see stars twinkling in the distance, and then I see...a wall.

A massive wall, a wall that stretches beyond my understanding of space and distance, a wall at the edge of all of space and time.

A wall made of living stone, covered in shifting figures and faces, some smiling and waving, as if they are happy to be a part of this tapestry, others writhing in pain, screaming, reaching forward as if to be pulled out.

I begin to reach out to touch the wall-

“I would not do that if I were you.”

I turn around to see a figure, the one who spoke to me at the Source Chamber, a man sitting in a massive floating throne. His seat, more like some sort of high-tech cradle with a massive metal ring positioned behind him.

“Hello Scott Free, I am Metron, the speaker for the Source, and the guardian of the Source Wall.”

I try to speak but no words escape my lungs.

“Today you will be tested. Tested like never before, today, you will face your greatest foe and at last, make your final escape.”

“Normally, I choose not to interfere, my presence is that of an observer, but I have come to know Darkseid, his desire for the Anti-Life Equation is dangerous, not just to you or your world but to the fabric of reality itself.”

I desperately try to speak but alas, nothing.

“Do you know what the Source Wall is?”

I shake my head.

Metron’s chair floats over to the wall, he begins to gesture at a group of smiling people, all standing together, holding each other's hands.

“The Source Wall is the edge of everything you know, the last stop before nothingness, before the Source itself….these 5, are The Forever People.”

“They gave their life long ago, to prevent Darkseid from discovering the Anti-Life equation, they came together and brought forth a power more potent than any Uxas could muster, they brought forth The Infinity Effect.”

Metron holds open his palm and a brilliant matrix of reds and orange appear in one hand, he then extends his other palm, conjuring up another matrix of swirling blues and greens in the other.

“You see The Omega Effect, the power Darkseid uses, it un-writes reality, dismantles things, tears them from our material plane.”

He gestures to his left hand, holding the blue and green energy.

"The Infinity Effect, however, creates, it allows the user to conjure up new matter, new solutions...it doesn't let you solve the Anti-Life Equation, it turns you into the answer.”

Metron looks down sullenly before continuing.

"Today, at this very moment, a group of people, people from different walks of life, with connections to each other, even they are unaware of are coming together to face Darkseid, they will fail...unless you lead them, Scott, they will fail, unless you help them harness the Infinity Effect."

Metron extends his palm to me, I reach out to touch him.

He stops, recoiling for a moment.

“Scott, you have to understand, what I’m telling you today, I swore to never again interfere in the universe’s affairs, but today...I am helping you save the universe from itself...but this will be the end, for all of you.”

“This will be your final act.”

Suddenly I wake up.

Surrounding me are more of Orion’s royal guard, all with energy lances pointed at me as I pick myself up off the floor.

“Sorry about this in advance, you seem like fine soldiers.”

They look at each other puzzled, I snap my fingers and the discs on my heels fly off of me and zip around the room, colliding with each of the guard’s heads, knocking them into each other, in their panic I open up another boom tube.

BOOM.

I give them one last wink, and then…

It's onto Mister Miracle's final act.

Darkseid is; going to wish he had a miracle of his own.

Next: 

Chapter 6: Larger Than Life

I jump from my steed and land on this beast.

Bringing him down to the ground, quite deceased.

I reach out and help his prey up off of the ground.

The small man covers his face and exclaims himself a noun.

"I am Bug! Please do not harm me, I am only Bug!"

"Bah, harm you? I saved you, you should thank me! Watching these creatures buzz about is making my cranky"

“I...Yes, the Para-Demons, they were chasing me”

“Demons? These are no demons, not such as I? I’d have smelled it on them or spotted them with my eye”

“R-right...no, Para-Demons, they are slaves of Darkseid, just like me…”

"Darkseid...I see he is no friend. Point me to him and soon he will meet his end!"

“You want to face...Darkseid? No no, you will surely perish!”

“Is Darkseid the reason that you flee? Has he declared his wrath down upon thee?”

“What? No, Darkseid doesn’t know I exist...I mean I hope he doesn’t. I’m running from Mantis”

“Mantis? Like the praying variety? Why be afraid of a being of such Piety?”

“You misunderstand, Mantis is Bug, like me, well...not like me…”

“Explain yourself to me little Bug, your riddles make even a master of limerick's shrug”

“Right...well, back on New Genesis, the Bugs live in...relative peace, The New Gods lived above us in the sky-cities, and we, well we lived on the surface, fending for ourselves, hunting, gathering, foraging…”

“I see, please do continue, tell me your tale as I find us a new venue”

“Uh...okay...well, we were happy, as happy as Bugs can be, but The New Gods, they didn’t treat us as equals, rather...second class people...well not even people...insects”

As we land back at my living place, I recant the rhyme that shall change my face.

“Gone, Gone Etrigan, return once forth, the form of man”

The hellfire envelops me once again, and as the flames leave my body, so does my infernal form.

The meek stranger I have brought with me looks quite distraught.

“D-did you just...where did the big one…”

I smirk, I am quite used to this reaction.

“Do not worry, Etrigan comes and goes, but Jason Blood will still hear your woes”

“D-do all beings rhyme here?”

“No sorry.”

“O-oh….okay….so...as I was saying. We were ignored by The New Gods who lived above us, and when our food supply began to run dry, we had no other recourse…”

“To ally with Darkseid?”

"Yes...Mantis, the strongest of us, the only Bug ever given name, he made a deal with Darkseid's head mind-molder, Desaad, in exchange for the Bug's fealty, he would be given the strength to stage a revolution."

“So Darkseid gave this Mantis power...and he took it for himself, not his people.”

“Yes...he did lead us in revolt...and on Apokolips we were treated as equals...but what Mantis didn't tell us was, we would live among the Hunger-Dogs, slaves of Darkseid, it would be them we were equal to, as we too would be slaves to his despotic rule”.

“So...the Para-Demons, those are slaves too?”

"No...worse. Desaad, he takes the people of the world's Darkseid conquers, he breaks their minds, molds their flesh, turns them into unthinking drones of destruction."

“Bastard...making foul of both man and demon-kind alike.”

“Yes...me and the other Bugs, we were sent here to collect the survivors…bring them to Desaad….but I couldn’t and so I fled, that’s when Mantis sent those...things after me...he wanted to hunt me, bring me back so he could dispatch me himself.”

“So this Mantis...he is expecting you?”

“Y-yes...so that he may kill me with his bare hands.”

I crack a grin, I have a plan, we will free these Bugs, and then, we will crush Darkseid.

“Then let’s go say hello.”

We arrive at their camp at morning's first light, the invasion has raged for more than 24 hours now, The Justice League have yet to arrive. The chaos is growing.

Forager marches us to the ramshackle shopping mall that Mantis has holed up in. Para-Demons guard the entrance.

I watch the small red creature adjust his white tunic before approaching the guards, I fidget with the shackles he put me in, a part of my plan but not a very comfortable one.

It doesn’t take long for Mantis to grant us an audience.

Once Forager issues the challenge of a trial by combat Mantis is forced to comply.

We gather around a fire pit, Mantis is a much bigger creature, he wears very little clothes but his body is decorated with green and yellow tribal tattoos that seem to glow with a current of energy flowing through them like circuits.

He growls and beckons Forager into the fighting arena they have set up rather quickly, just a few burning trashcans to dictate the octagon they will face off within.

Forager looks nervous, good, nervous keeps you alive.

Mantis is faster than he looks but Forager is small, this works to his advantage, he manages to jump and duck between Manti’s grabs.

But Mantis manages to grab Forager eventually, he raises him up off the floor by the throat and exclaims.

“Now, time to crush you like the Bug you are.”

Forager yelps.

“You forget your own kind Mantis, you are Bug too!”

That’s the cue.

Gone, gone the form of Man.

The next part happens really quite fast, Mantis quickly becomes a thing of the past.

Forager is the victor albeit not alone, though the other Bug’s don’t seem ready to follow him home.

I take him aside before I go on my way, telling him that this revolution will not be done within one day.

He nods and tells me he understands and lets me know he will work to free his people from Darkseid’s hands.

I impart one last lesson before I leave, for him to remember the power of legends we weave.

It is time for me to join the fight, The Daily Planet burns, they need my might.

I thought I'd die a knight, in King Arthur's court, I thought I'd die an exiled demon, my life cut short.

I thought I'd live alone a hermit, decrepit and alone, I thought I'd die entombed in my own home.

I see today another path, one of glory, one worthy of an epitaph.

Today Etrigan and Jason Blood may ascend, but we will be reborn and live on as a legend.

Next:

Chapter 4: Miracles

I fought on the front lines for years against the forces of Morgaine Le Fay, Merlin's’ former apprentice who now swore a vendetta upon the throne.

She would throw her endless armies of demons at us like waves crashing against the cliff sides, neither side could gain ground, but she was wearing us down, and she knew it.

I first met her son, Klarion, on the battlefield, I was helping a town retreat from an invasion when our eyes caught across the bloody chaos. He was helping an elderly woman gather her belongings, ushering her to join the other escapees. I had heard the Witch-Boy was a kinder soul than his mother, I had not believed it till this day.  

Klarion was a misunderstood boy, born from a beast far more vile than himself.

I could relate.

We didn't meet again until a year later, where our battle was far more...intimate.

After this Klarion and I would meet often, in secrecy, until one day, he came to Camelot, beaten and bloodied, running from his mother.

He pleaded to Merlin, telling him that Le Fay was planning an all-out assault on Camelot, something she had not deigned to do before now. She would be here in days and we'd be wiped out, once and for all.

Merlin would not listen.

They shackled the Witch-Boy and paid his warnings no mind.

I tried to plead Klarion’s case to Merlin and Arthur, but when they wouldn't budge I took matters into my own hands.

I broke Klarion out of the dungeon myself, and as we made our escape, his mother’s assault began. The ground was stained with the blood of many demons and men that day.

We almost made it out of Camelot unscathed but as we reached the gates, Merlin caught up to us.

He claimed me a traitor to the crown, and a terrorist deserving of execution.

I didn’t care.

He did.

“Yarva Demonicus Etrigan.”

He began to chant, an old foul magic, something LeFay would prefer.

“Change, change form of man.”

The curse took hold fast as flames of hellfire engulfed my form. I remember the searing pain, the stink of burning flesh.

“Free the Prince, forever damned.”

To spite me, Merlin undid himself, using his magic to summon a force he had sworn to combat.

“Free the might from fleshy mire.”

As my flesh melted away, shimmering orange scales took its place.

“Boil the blood in the heart of fire.”

Thick sharp horns grew from my skull and reptilian fins from my face.

"Gone, gone the form of man"

I gazed down at my hands, the world now cloaked in red, my fist now adorned with massive claws.

“Rise the Demon, Etrigan!”

I stared at my lover, tears streaming down my cheeks, sure that my new monstrous form would give him pause.

Klarion found it within himself to love a beast such as me.

He conjured us a teleportation spell and chanted to set us free.

In the days to come he helped me master this new hellish hate.

And discovered with meditation, I could temporarily reverse my fate.

I could walk as a man for an amount of time.

But The Demon would always return with a rhyme.

As the years went on, our love was tested, and as all good things, our time together ended. I learned that my bond to this demon meant my life was now eternal. Every time I saw injustice I would recant the rhyme infernal.

As Jason Blood I continued to live, finding a place in the world as it shifted and changed around me. I watched empires rise and fall, I watched civilizations end and begin. I took up collecting, keeping trinkets from my adventures, tomes, and weapons, items of great magic power. I found a home in Metropolis, alone with my things, relics of a bygone era. For a time I found myself working as a detective of sorts, using my experience with magic as a way to help those being targeted by the darker forces of the mystic realms...but alas as the years dragged on I began to realize I too was just another relic of my collection, watching the world roll past me as I sank into isolation.

Now. I find myself staring out into the world I no longer feel connected to. The skies burn and winged monsters descend from the heavens.

Wings of metal and mouths that spew fire….twisted visions of angels….demons.

I grab my sword, I have plenty of swords, but only of them is MY sword.

Forged for me by Sir Justin, The Shining Knight himself, the only round table knight younger than I, his armor was pure Nth Metal, when the light hit it he shined like a god, demons ran from his presence alone. The sword he made me, he named Light-Bringer, told me in my darkest moments, it would help me find my way. I've had this sword longer than any other belonging...and I've spent years building its legend.

Legends are delicate things, a fragile magic that relies on the memories and the devotion of others, they only take form when enough people believe them to be true. The legend of Light-Bringer is that when the sword is drawn, it can summon Sir Justin's steed, a brilliant white stallion with wings made of pure light. A Pegasus. As I said, legends take a long time to curate. The one advantage to my...longevity? I've had plenty of time.

I draw the brilliant glistening blade and as It leaves its sheath, threads of light branch off of it, swirling to the center of the room, tethering together, forming an angelic mare.

I grab the mane of my steed and hoist myself up, I look at my face in the reflection of the blade, stern, a scar draping from the corner of my lip, over my nose to my left eye. My hair still a dark red but a streak of white has been growing for the last 3 decades. I barely recognize the face looking back at me, for it’s not my true face….it is the face of Jason Blood...but I am not just Jason Blood.

"Gone, gone, the form of Man…"

Next:

Chapter 3: Bugs and Beasts

The day Superman died, seven other brave heroes gave their lives to put an end to the carnage and destruction.

Seven other heroes that now go forgotten, no parade, no monument, no fanboys or robots to take up their name.

I know this because I currently stand at one of their graves.

I guess standing isn't the right word, hovering would be more appropriate.

This, the first anniversary of their sacrifice, and no one is here.

No friends. No family. No Justice League.

No Superman.

It’s only been a year but the tombstone is already covered in dust, as if it knows it’s been forgotten, just trying to fade away as we let their memory slip from our minds.

No name on it, but there is an inscription, can't quite make it out under the dust.

I press my palm to the stone, trying to wipe away some of the shmutz. I’d say it's cold to the touch, but honestly, I couldn't tell you.

My hand just phases through the stone of-course. This happens often. I forget that my time in the corporeal plane has ended.

The only thing I can make out under the dust is an emblem, engraved into the stone, golden and shimmering despite all the clutter.

A lightning bolt, flat at the top, not like that guy from Central City’s, thicker too.

As if it's not just a lightning bolt, but a shield too. A beacon.

Heh, subtle Billy.

I give the stone one last glance before closing my eyes.

I visualize where I want to be, and then, I open my eyes again, and as if the earth has moved around me, I am there.

The wind rolls over the grassy hills and thick foam lashes against the rocky cliff side as the waves crash against the shore. A path of cobblestone leads to the edge of this cliff, where the burned and broken remains of a cottage forgotten a century ago still lays.

I float over the stone, taking in the scenery, I can almost taste the crisp ocean air….but I cannot. Taste is a luxury for the living.

Dublin, at least I get to travel on this gig.

As I float into the now hollow echo of what once I'm sure was a quiet cozy cabin, my eyes are drawn to the center of the ruins.

There, impaling the ground, with vines and other vegetation now grown around it, making it a facet of this cliff, is a brilliant sword.

The hilt wrapped in what once would have been the finest silk, a lion's head adorning the butt of it. A sword only fit for a knight of the roundtable.

This one was put to rest by the world long before I was born, if only they knew that only a year ago, did he truly give his life to save us all.

I close my eyes again and when I open them I find myself in Chicago, at another graveyard, this one is not empty, this grave is not unmarked.

A group of mourners surrounds a large marble pillar, a monument to a fallen friend, a portrait sits propped against this monument, a smiling kind face beaming at any who go to pay their respects.

This one was remembered, in ways, but still, the world knows Ted Kord died that day, but do they know it was because the Blue Beetle sacrificed himself to save them? No...no they do not.

I blink again. Moving this fast can still be disconcerting at times.

Fawcett, Dublin, Chicago, now somewhere much farther, much stranger.

The brilliant floating city of New Genesis, where the New-Gods fly through the sky, creating brilliant tapestries of light and sound. A year ago, two of the bravest amongst them traveled to earth, fought off their sworn enemy and gave their lives to prevent more death.

Does New Genesis celebrate their sacrifice?

No New Genesis does not, for they were outcasts long before their heroic deeds.

No gods shed a tear, no gods even care, they just go about their day.

No gods remember that this was the day Scott and Barda Free gave their lives to save three worlds.

I close my eyes again, a single tear sliding down my cheek.

Gotham City, the city that never sleeps, for it is always screaming.

Tonight is no different, sirens fill the air followed by the screech of hot rubber as a car chase rages on.

There are more cemeteries in Gotham City than any other city in America.

Not a big surprise to be honest with ya.

This one is particularly packed. If it wasn't for the sign you’d believe it to be a military grave, dozens of small stone pillars line the ground, each only having room for a name.

For the impoverished citizens of the East End, this is the only option to honor their dead.

Here I find another mourning party, a mother, and son, but they do not cry, no, instead, they leave a flower at their grave, give each other a smile and a hug, a chuckle and they move on with their day.

Good, Patrick would have wanted it that way, he would have wanted them to find joy in the world, as he always did. If only the world knew that it wasn't Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman who helped stop Darkseid that day.

It was….heh. Well, you wouldn't believe me If I told you.

Another blink and I am in Metropolis.

Where it all happened.

This grave is well tended, wreathed in flowers, candles, notes.

Ronnie Raymond was well loved, and now, well missed.

Only one visitor today though, on the anniversary of it all.

It makes sense, for everyone else they believe this happened 2 days prior, at the beginning of the invasion.

The only living person who knows otherwise is here today.

Martin, you poor man, I can't hear him from here, but I watch as his body crumples, as he falls to his knees.

He blames himself, wishes he had acted faster, wishes he had stopped Ronnie, wishes he could scream from the rooftops about how Ronnie saved everyone in this city, including himself.

It isn't right about this.

But he’s right about one thing.

These seven heroes deserve more.

They stood up for us, they fought for what they believed in, and in the end, they are just names, whispered on the wind.

Behind me I hear a sort of scratching noise, like static on an old TV, as if the universe itself lets out a hoarse gasp as a tear in space displaces the air around it, screams and moans emanate from this abysmal gash, the souls that make up the bedrock of limbo, the dimension most commonly known as the ethereal plane.

Purgatory.

She emerges from this swirling vortex.

She stands, at least 9 feet tall, her skin glowing a ghastly blue, her eyes black as coal but her pupils burn like golden suns. She is draped in a purple robe, covered in golden bands, her six arms wave and flail as she continues to conjure the spells that allow her to walk amongst the world unseen.

She is Rama Kushna, goddess of Limbo and Karmic Debt.

She also happens to be my current employer.

Her appearance here does not bode well.

"Well if it ain't the horridly divine; Rama Kushna, your undead holiness, what brings your spooky ass self to the land of the livin and breathin, present company excluded of course."

“Boston Brand, always the charmer.”

She always compliments me before sending me on a job.

“It’s how my ma raised me”

She shoots me a cold smirk, and man I may not have a physical form but it cuts right through me.

“You seem to be...traversing a lot today….did you handle Craddock yet?”

Ah jeez, James Craddock, what a total asshole, called himself the "Gentleman Ghost", who does that? You don't see me going around shouting about how awesome it is to be dead. Also, he shot me.

Me?!

I mean, isn't that like...the whole benefit of being dead? Not getting...you know...killed? But no, apparently this “Nth Metal” can disrupt spectral beings, so yeah, he shot me in the arm and I am still pretty pissed about it.

“Boston”

Oh shit, she's probably reading my thoughts again.

"O-oh yea, Craddock is dealt with, that pansy won't be showing his top hat around the material plane anytime soon"

“I am glad to hear it”

“So who am I spooking on today?”

“Boston, do you know why I chose to keep your soul from ascending?”

“Was it my good looks?”

I crack a smile, my dead white lips creasing a bit as I do.

“No.”

I swear to god… uh a different god, she almost chuckles, I swear.

“Because life was shit so why should death be any better?”

"No Boston, I saved you because I saw a purpose in you, a path for you, and so did he."

“Who?”

She smiles, but like...that mom kinda smile you know? Like when your ma knows that you know what she knows...but you don't want her to know it, you know?

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

“Because, Boston, today, today I’ve brought a gift”

“You gonna give me back my soul?”

“No Boston, I’m gonna give you peace of mind”

Suddenly shes upon me, her talons pierce my skull and as they do, white-hot light pours into my cranium.

It feels pretty shit.

She’s done this before, show me visions of past souls, their memories before they died, but this one feels like a particularly major doozy.  

As the light grows brighter it envelops my vision, and then suddenly.

I’m somewhere else.

I’m someone else.

Next:

Chapter 2: Inner-Demons

For a little context: This was a pitch for a retelling/Elseworld version of The Death of Superman story. I had a lot of fun just baking in as many of my favorite DC characters as I could and it became more of an exercise in writing different voices than it was about telling a cohesive narrative. 

Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Listing:

0. Prologue

1. Dead Men Tell Tales

2. Inner-Demons

3. Bugs and Beasts

4. Miracles

5. Darkseid Is

6. Larger Than Life

7. Growth Spurt

8. Bigger Than Death

9. “Sha-”

10. The Big Guns

11. Plastic Is Thicker Than Blood

12. “Plastic Man: Fuck Yeah”

13. Cut The Kord

14. It’s About Time

15. Radiation and Rock-Candy

16. That’s Not How It Happened. 

17. Endgame

18. Legacies

Not when a fight he had with Atomic Skull lead to our tent getting burnt down.

Haley's left town the next day said Metropolis was too dangerous, moved to Gotham of all places.

Where does a Trapeze artist with no other prospects go when their circus leaves town?

To the bottom of a bottle, mostly.

I would have gone with them, but earlier that year, Superman had helped exposed Lex-Corp’s insider trading.

My Ma worked for Lex-Corp, she was an office manager, a damn good one. Always supported me, said I was her little daredevil.

She also lived with a pretty bad degenerative disease, it became known as "The Dead-Man's Curse"  by doctors, put the body into premature rigor mortis.

When she was diagnosed, we got a meeting with Lex Luthor himself. I don’t know if it was just to make him look good, or if he wanted some medical challenge to stroke his bald head with, or if he genuinely cared, but he set his doctors on finding a cure.

These were some sci-fi, robot limb doctors too if anyone coulda fixed it, it woulda been them.

They couldn't though, I don't blame em. Apparently, people in my mom's bloodline were the only ever reported cases.

They did manage to find a treatment, however, a medication that would help my ma function like normal as long as she got regular doses.

When Lex-Corp went under, she lost her insurance, and these meds were expensive. Like you could sell your car and maybe get a month's worth.

And I did, I sold my car, I stayed in town, and I tried to find a way to pay for the next dose.

But I couldn't hold a job and once the meds dried up, well, my Ma just couldn't go on.

There was no Superman to give her hope, just the one who had thrown away her one chance at life.

My one chance at life.

You see, this disease is hereditary.

So a week after my Ma passed, she went in her sleep, luckily, she couldn't breathe any longer.

Well a week after, I start to notice the stiffness, my taste buds dying out, my joints constantly aching as they struggled against my muscles. It’d come in flashes but I realized my one talent would soon be gone, and then.

So Would I.

So no, Superman never gave me hope. Heroes in general never gave me much hope. All they ever did was fly around, egging on guys bigger than them to cause a ruckus, and then the little guys like us would get hit with the fallout.

So that day, a year ago, January 13th, 1993, when the sky turned red and the forces of Apokolips descended on us.

I said no.

I wasn't going to be another casualty of their wars.

I was going to go out on my terms.

So I put my leotard on one last time. Satin that shimmered a crimson red, embroidered with gold flowers that snaked around my arms, forming a brilliant golden “D”  plastered right on my chest, “Daredevil” like my ma used to call me. I remember looking in the mirror, adjusting my collar, my suit had this slick v-neck cut that bled into a near translucent plume of fabric that stood up behind my head, really made my face pop when I did my stunts.

Then, after ogling myself one last time, I grabbed a trench coat and some boots and made my way to the Metropolis Life Bridge.

Metropolis Life Bridge. Heh.

The irony.

Something happened when I got to that bridge though. Not at first, I was there for a good hour, I went with a plan but...well...when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun, or in my case a 200 ft drop, it’s hard not to wince.

I stood there for an hour, but when the screaming started to get closer, when the traffic stopped and people left their cars, running for safety. I knew it was time.

I took a deep breath, another swig of the finest whiskey 10 dollars could buy.

And I took a step.

Next: 

Chapter 1: Dead Men Tell Tales.