SS - Meetings, Minds and Mysteries

'Cause what she's doin' now is tearin' me apart

Fillin' up my mind and emptying my heart

I can hear her call each time the cold wind blows

And I wonder if she knows what she's doin' now

********

Taylor drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of her car.

She'd been stuck in traffic for the last fifty minutes, barely inching her way forward as the sun descended from late afternoon till full twilight. Only the barest hints of natural light reflected off the buildings, most illumination coming from the streetlamps of Brockton Bay and the other cars around her.

She took their honking as a sign they were all as impatient as her. But there was nothing they could do. They should know by now that they were lucky that the danger had already passed.

An entire stretch of nearby road had been destroyed by a villain, who Taylor didn't know, but she had seen the usual 'Super Fight Scene' signs for the last half hour. She hoped no one was hurt, but she refused to check out her phone.

Where on earth were the heroes? Or the cleanup crews?

She had shuffled through the radio for any update on the situation, but all the news outlets had been raving about some new Super incident in Ohio. Giving it up as a bad job, she had turned it off and spent most of her time thinking about how she would write her upcoming essay on William Blake's Lamb.

There was a time, years ago, when the news of a Super fight nearby, or the one making the national news over in Ohio, would have piqued her interest.

Back when she wore Armsmaster panties, went as Wonder Woman for Halloween, and had a Flash brand lunchbox.

That was before she discovered she was a mutant with a useless power.

Before she understood the fear of losing everything to a stray shot from a blaster.

Before her dad died, collateral damage to a fight between Typhoid Mary and the Scarlet Spider. No rhyme or reason, just the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now she kept her head down, avoiding Supers and anything to do with them as much as possible.

Taylor Hebert was one of the millions worldwide who won and lost the genetic lottery.

In a world where one in ten thousand people have an ability of some sort, and the number rising every day, it was almost guaranteed you'd run into a Super at least once a week.

Most of them were less dangerous than a thug with a bat.

For every pyro that could destroy a building in one blast, thousands could barely light a match. Every flyer that could reach Mach speeds overshadowed the countless others who could only hover. Strongmen able to lift a car were much rarer than those who could lift a couch.

In a world where more and more people had powers, either from mutation, triggering, science, or extraterrestrial origin, only a handful had abilities that allowed them to make a difference.

The sheer population of the earth ensured that there were still thousands of people who had 'Super' superpowers, but most were like Taylor.

Underpowered.

A term the internet had coined that fit her to a T.

Her only ability was immunity from psychic influence.

She had gone the first fifteen years of her life not knowing she had it, and since discovering it, it had not proven useful once.

It was only when the X-men, and the Xavier Institute, went public after joining the fight against Behemoth that Taylor learned that mutants were a separate classification of Supers.

If her power had been more practical, she might have pursued further education at the Institute or gotten an apprenticeship.

She could have been a hero.

Then she might have been able to save her dad.

Taylor wasn't bitter, more like wistful.

If that had happened, she would have had to leave Emma, even if only for a little while, until she got her power under control. Both of them would have hated that.

Their relationship might not have survived.

Still...

Taylor Hebert spent the remaining drive, twenty minutes to cross the two blocks to home, caught up in her mind.

Not about a long-dead poet but about what could have been.

Parking the car, Taylor picked up the package left on the doorstep and entered. Judging by the size, no bigger than her hand, Emma might have received new make-up samples again. Companies often sent her some of their product when she advertised for them.

Emma was in the living room, a news broadcaster's voice barely a murmur from this distance.

Some Super incident, probably. That was all the news talked about these days.

"I'm home," Taylor called out as she set her heavy bag down with a sigh of relief. The package was put on the table.

It was surprisingly addressed to her.

There was no return address.

"You're late. I was worried." Emma called back.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, Taylor cut it open gently.

"Some Super incident on the road. The heroes were taking forever to show up, so it was bumper to bumper."

Inside was a black cloth pouch and a small white card.

"I'm not surprised," Taylor heard her fiancee snort. "The whole world went mad for like an hour. Huge Super throwdown through a bunch of states and ended up near Washington. Did you hear about it?"

Fliping opens the card, Taylor read it even as she answered Emma absentmindedly.

"Something about a mutant in Clevland, right?"

'With my condolences for your loss and wishing you a happy ever after.

Mikael, Drakon Inc.'

Taylor frowned at the card in confusion. The name was unfamiliar, but the company sounded familiar for some reason.

It took her a moment to place it.

The tall blonde last week!

The one who had been asking about her dad.

Danny Hebert had been well-connected and friendly, so it hadn't been rare for people to stop by asking about him, but she had stood out because of how attractive Taylor had found her and the fact it had been over a year since his death.

So this Mikael was her boss? Odd that he hadn't included a last name.

"Turns out it was an alien. It was pretty scary. It kept getting stronger and stronger as it rampaged. Mutating and changing. The League, Avengers, X-men, and a bunch of the Protectorate showed up to try and stop it. It was kicking their asses."

"What happened?" Taylor asked as she picked up the pouch.

Emma would have a much different tone if any of her favourite heroes died, so she assumed they won in the end.

The cloth of the pouch was silky smooth, unlike any material she was familiar with. Definitely not cheap.

Pulling the strings open and upending the contents onto her hand gently, Taylor blinked in surprise as a small sculpture fell out.

It was an insect of some sort, made of glass to glitter like multi-coloured gems. A beetle? It didn't look right for that. But it was familiar.

Taylor Hebert wasn't an insect expert by any measure, so it took her a few seconds to identify the palm-sized figure as a scarab. Like one she saw in Egyptian design.

Why would a CEO send her a glass scarab?

"The Elden Lord, you know, the huge dragon that nommed on the Simurgh, got a human body and brought Glory Girl back from the dead," Emma rambled.

Taylor rolled her eyes.

Just because she didn't actively seek out info on Supers anymore didn't mean she had been living under a rock. She hadn't seen the famous video of Panacea Park, but she had heard retellings enough to get the gist.

All that had been impossible to miss even if she didn't watch the news or go to forums.

"Anyway. It turns out he married some sort of extradimensional clone of Wonder Woman, and she came to help. With King Arthur. Who, it turns out, is a girl. A hot one. She's the one from the Panacea video."

Taylor turned her attention from the small scarab in her hand to look at the living room in disbelief.

"What." Taylor made her way to the living room, her voice flat in deadpan.

In what possible world did those strings of words make any sense?

Supers were always weird, but what Emma said was some absurd, next-level shit.

"So these two come in, rescue the heroes and kicking this thing's ass using a bunch of funky weapons. Only nothing seems to put it down." As Taylor entered the room, Emma stood to give her a hug and a quick peck on the cheek before quickly refocusing on the TV. "The Elden Lord shows up, says a few words to the New Wonder Woman and gives her a sword. She kills the thing dead. You'd think that would be it. But then a whole bunch of other women show up. There's, like, ten of them plus the Elden Lord. And they're all married or something, and they're staring down the heroes. One turns into a dragon and flies off to fix all the destroyed stuff. Another one grows this huge golden tree. I mean massive. I could see it from the window. Did you?"

"No," Taylor said with a shake of her head. She must have been facing the wrong way when it happened. As her childhood friend rambled on, she felt the headache that had disappeared earlier make its way back. Whenever Emma got on one of her tirades, it was better to let her get it all out than try to stop her.

She seemed particularly energetic tonight.

"So this tree heals everyone for, like, five hundred miles and then everyone is in this big standoff. It turns out the Elden Lord is pretty cool, but because the heroes have been scared, they've been hounding him while he spends time with his family. They talk, Superman apologizes, and some people try and steal his weapons, only he goes 'Nuh-uh' and catches them all. Then he summons these two dragon heads, blasts the alien's corpse to pieces and leaves with most of the other women. King Arthur and the new Wonder Woman stay behind."

"Okay," Taylor nodded, showing she had followed along. Maybe this would all make sense if she watched what had happened.

This time alone, she'd go out of her way to actually look things up, even if only to find out what was up with the massive dragon off the coast, the blue moon in the sky, and this gigantic tree.

It all sounded insane, and Taylor felt a sense of vertigo.

Every day, more and more incidents, attacks, or disasters appear. It was one of the reasons she stopped watching the Super scene.

It was just depressing.

And now this.

Was it wrong to want a quiet, happy life?

"Anyway, how was your day?" Emma asked, finally running out of steam.

"Fine," Taylor said with a shrug. "Midterms, you know. Do you remember that woman? Glynda?"

"Glynda Goodwitch? The dragon?" Emma asked in turn, looking confused.

"What?" Taylor asked, bamboozled. "No, the blonde from last week. The one asking after my dad for her boss?"

"It's ringing a bell, but I can't remember the details. Did you tell me about it already? Was I home?"

"You were the one who answered the door," Taylor said with a sigh. Sometime she could be such an airhead. "Anyway, what does the Wizard of Oz have to do with dragons?"

"Nothing," Emma shook her head with an amused smile. "That was one of the women with the Elden Lord. The one that turned into a dragon was named Glynda Goodwitch. I thought it was a joke, but she is seriously powerful. That's what's on," she nodded to the TV. "She flew over Clevland and repaired everything. Like a tenth of the city was wrecked, and then: poof. All better. She couldn't do anything about the people who died, but the city was repaired, and the tree healed everyone else."

"Good for them," Taylor said, feeling sympathy for the inhabitants.

On the one hand, it was Ohio, so they were used to getting a bad hand. On the other, as someone from Brockton Bay, she would appreciate it if, after a disaster, someone came and cleaned everything up for them as well.

It would make the commute much more manageable.

Shaking her head slightly at her joke, Taylor lifted the glass scarab to show her fiancee.

"Ooooh, pretty," Emma cooed at the sight of the light bouncing off the figurine. She took the fake insect in her hand, rubbing her fingers over it.

"Mikael, her boss, sent this with his condolences," Taylor said as Emma froze. "But why a glass scarab?"

"What did you say his name was?"

"Hm? Mikael. From Drakon Inc." Emma's eye twitched. "There was no last name, which is weird."

"Taylor, dear, I love you," Emma said slowly and patiently, like talking to a stupid person.

"Thank you," Taylor answered, looking at the redhead in confusion. "I love you too."

"But you need to listen to me!" Emma nearly shouted. "It's okay if you don't want to deal with Supers. I get it. But when I talk about the dragon the size of a continent that was in town last week and brought someone back from the dead! You. Need. To. Listen!"

"Woah," Taylor said, raising her hands in surrender as she stepped back from Emma. "What's wrong?"

The blonde was right.

When Emma had been talking about the famous footage of Glory Girl's return, Taylor had been too distracted by the idea of the dead coming back to life.

Could she have her parents back?

Could she see them again? Hold them? Tell them all the words that went unsaid?

Eventually, she snapped out of her funk as reality settled. Not only were there probably a bunch of conditions for bringing people back, but why would someone like the Elden Lord care about poor orphaned Taylor Hebert?

Everyone had lost loved ones.

That's just how it was in a world full of Supers.

She was no one special, and she had nothing to offer.

For the last week, she had tried to put the thought out of her mind.

"What's wrong?" Emma repeated rhetorically, sounding near hysterics. "What's wrong is that Mikael is the Elden Lord's name! What's wrong is that a blonde called Glynda was here last week! What's wrong is we were given a gift from the CEO of a fake company, whose name is a shitty pun! That's what's wrong!"

"What?" Taylor asked, struggling to understand but getting the gist.

"Quick!" Emma said, pulling up her phone and scrolling through it at a blistering pace. "Is this her? The woman from last week?"

The image on the screen was a tall blonde with green eyes in a blouse and skirt combo standing in front of a wooden chair. Nearby, other attractive women filled similar chairs. Behind them, a massive grey and white carcass and a man sitting atop it.

"That's her," Taylor said softly, her mouth suddenly dry.

Emma Barnes let out a low keening sound from her throat as she held up the scarab to the light.

"You don't think..." Taylor Hebert hesitated even to voice the idea. "That's not a real gem, right? Right?"

Emma choked.

********

As Nico Robin walked the dirt road, backpack slung over her shoulder, she revelled not in the view of the Mediterranean sea glittering in the setting sun as it descended but in the feeling of her body.

She was familiar with soreness from training. Soreness from exhaustion. From bruises or pulled muscles. Those hurt, but she was long used to pain.

The soreness that still tingled through Robin's body was a pleasant one.

Not one part of her didn't ache deliciously after last night, even if her body did not have any actual marks.

As Mikael had promised, he had spent hours exploring her body. It was fantastic.

And so new.

Even now, the phantom sensation of his hands, his tongue, or other parts of him sent trills of ghostly pleasure along her nerves. She was half tempted to go through with her threat of sprouting a part of herself in his pants right now.

She shook her head in denial.

Not only was he on the other side of the globe, but his meeting with the Titans was not the time to experiment with that aspect of her powers.

Still...

Robin had thought that over six hours of passionate, experimental and kinky sex would be excessive, but now she knew it was barely enough.

The only reason the pair finally separated was that Mikael had to meet the Teen Titans.

To shake herself out of the feeling of emptiness his departure had brought, Robin had showered and set off to continue her little adventure.

This world did not have the Void Century, nor did it have Poneglyphs to search out. Until The Family travelled to a world similar to her home, her dream was put on hold.

For now.

Able to read all the writings of this world, thanks to the Catalogue, most archeology came pretty quickly to her. It was a very well-defined field of study here, unlike her home, so there was no central mystery of the world that attracted her attention.

Except for one she had discovered by chance while they had been settling down and evaluating this world for risks.

Atlantis.

So here Robin was, walking along a dirt road on a small island off the coast of Croatia.

The small house on the nearby hill was her destination.

A black and white dog barked a few times as she approached. Its tail wagged happily as Robin drew closer. Paying the appropriate tribute, she scratched it behind its ears, much to its joy.

"Can I help you?" An older man asked in Croatian from his place in the doorway. He was well past his prime but still fit enough to stand, and he eyed her warily.

"Dr. Jakov Vukelic?" Robin asked in the same language. She didn't even have an accent. "Former professor at Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin?"

If one ignored the sexual slavery aspect, every aspect of the Waifu Catalogue could be considered a very useful superpower by itself. Many would cut off a limb for the ability to read, write, and speak every conceivable language.

"I am he," the old scholar nodded, looking less wary and more intrigued. "May I have your name, miss?"

"Nico Robin," she said as she left the dog. "I am an archeologist. Do you have a moment to talk about your work?"

"Of course," the balding man's eyes lit up with joy as he waived her in. "Come in, come in. I always welcome fellow scholars. Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, or something a little stronger if you prefer?"

"Some coffee if it wouldn't be too much trouble," Robin said with a smile as she stepped into the modest house.

It was clean, with sturdy, well-made furniture and a half dozen bookshelves filled with hundreds of books—enough room for one man to live out his retirement days in peace and study. The nearby town was far enough not to disturb him but close enough that he could get there with little effort for supplies.

"It's no trouble at all," Dr. Vukelic said as he busied himself with making her drink. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you," Robin sat in one of the plush chairs, eyeing the books with evaluating eyes. "You are a hard man to contact, doctor."

"Jakov, please," he said with an amiable smile. "I apologize for that, but I am retired and have been for years. I'm not too fond of all this technology, phones, computers, and the like. If my old colleagues need me, they can send me a letter."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you retire so young?"

"Ah," the old Croatian looked slightly hurt as he set a cup of coffee in front of her and settled into his chair. "It is sad when a line of study one has dedicated their life to ceases to be of interest to others. The wall's fall was just a good excuse to take my leave and pursue my studies independently."

"Truly?" Robin asked in surprise. "I had known there were few scholars on Atlantis, but for no one to be interested? I believe you were, and still are, the premier scholar of Atlantian civilization."

"It is easy to be the best scholar of a subject most believe to be a hoax." There was a note of pain in the older man's voice, but he shook his head. "Nevertheless, I started this pursuit because of my curiosity, not for fame. I wish to know the truth. Whether people believe it or not is their matter." The stubborn pride in the former professor told Robin this was an old wound long scared over.

"I believe you," Robin smiled at Jakov over her coffee. "That is what I am here for. The truth of Atlantis."

"What would you like to know?" He leaned forward eagerly, his scholarly passion not diminished by age.

"How do you know it was real?" She started by asking, trying to establish his credentials.

"Right to the heart of things," Jakov winced slightly. "We will ignore Plato as the origin of the name and sailor accounts over the centuries since they are notoriously unreliable, as well as other underwater civilizations in myth such as Mu, Lemuria, Ys, or Thule. That leaves me with only archeological remains, first-hand accounts over part of the twentieth century that I had the pleasure to interview, and a few records of coastal cities trading with an unnamed but advanced civilization."

"First-hand accounts?" Robin asked, pulling a notepad from her bag and writing in it as they talked.

"Multiple," the former professor nodded with a smile. "That is how I became interested in the subject. I had the pleasure of working as an intern for Dr. Stephen Shin while working on my thesis. He was the expert on the subject at the time. He met an Atlantian in person. His testimony matched those of others who fought in the Great War. Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack not long after I received my doctorate."

"What happened?" Robin asked, leaning forward in interest. "That sounds like a valid study, at least to build on with further evidence."

"Unfortunately, the post-war period was the last time we could find reliable testimony consistently," Jakov shook his head in sadness. "We still received the occasional notice of sightings along coasts or were able to track down records of trades with unknown foreign powers that were consistent with previous behaviour. But that also disappeared during the Cold War. What few colleagues I had eventually gave up once we were able to use submersible technology to scan the sea floor and found nothing. I turned in my resignation after that. Here I am now."

"You said there were archeological remains?"

"The usual things," Jakov nodded. "Pottery not matching any known style. Tools made of sea-based material such as coral and the like. Many bore a similar emblem, a symbol similar to the letter A. That is how we knew them to be from a common source. We then matched them to the same styled items that did not bear the symbol."

"And where are these remains now?" Robin asked, taking more notes.

"The Pergamonmuseum holds most of the artifacts we discovered," he said with a sad shake of his head. "They display them not as a symbol of Atlantis but as a derivative form of the Ancient Greek Delta. Despite their age not consistent with its use as a writing system."

"Have any more records or artifacts appeared since your retirement?"

"None," Jakov answered with a shake of his head. "The last valid discovery, a half-destroyed weapon similar to a trident, was discovered in Fisterra, Spain, a decade before my retirement. One of my former students would send me updates for a while as she continued looking for more evidence but had no luck. Reports were unverifiable, and sightings turned out to be mutants. Back then, most of the mutant population was still hiding what they were. Eventually, she gave up like the others."

"But not you?" Robin asked.

"No," the old professor answered with certainty. "I have seen too much proof, talked to too many people, and noticed too much consistency that I am sure Atlantis exists. Or did so in the mid-twentieth century at least. What happened after that is a mystery I would love to solve."

"So would I," Robin agreed with a kind smile.

If this man was correct, then the advent of the Endbringers six years ago was not the catalyst for the subaquatic civilization's disappearance, unlike Mikael's theory.

Of course, Robin needed to verify the truth with her own eyes.

"Do you have any records on hand?" She asked. "Of your studies, findings, or which artifacts are which so I may track them down?"

"Certainly," Jakov Vukelic stood with some slight difficulty and made his way over to a bookshelf filled with notebooks and binders.

Nico Robin allowed herself a triumphant smile.

This was the kind of thing she lived for.

History and mystery.

********

"What do you have?" Amanda Waller asked the lead scientist working on Project Leukocyte as they walked through the halls of Cadmus.

This was her first meeting with this particular man, a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked like he hadn't seen the sun in years. He had to be good if the heads put him in charge of such an important project.

"Everything and nothing!" He declared with quiet pride.

She wasn't amused.

"We simply do not have enough material," the scientist explained upon seeing her dower look. "We had to use a few drops for testing, and the remaining samples are nowhere near enough for more extensive experiments."

"Cloning." She asked/ordered.

"Impossible," he rejected with a shake of his head. "Any and every attempt to replicate the material fails. No matter what we do, it does not grow, multiply, or divide. We cannot make more. Whether this is due to mystical limits or an inherent property of the material, we do not know."

"So you have nothing."

"And everything," the man corrected. God save her from eggheads, and this one seemed even prouder than most. "The limited material has hampered us, but we have discovered quite a bit. First and least consequential is that the material doesn't degrade. At all. We've had it for a week, and it has not dried, degenerated, evaporated, or even decomposed. Once we extracted the dirt from it and isolated it, it remained entirely unchanged except when we pulled a few drops for our experiments. It can exist indefinitely so long as it is not mixed with something."

"And?" The head of the PRT was intrigued by the implications of something that didn't degrade, but she did not allow it to show. Refrain from giving science types an inch of interest, or they will ramble about nonsense for hours.

"Secondly, we have evaluated the DNA the blood contained. It's not human." Amanda grunted, showing she wasn't impressed. Anyone could have guessed that. "It is genetically compatible with humans, which isn't rare in the broader universe, but unremarkable, unlike our work with other extraterrestrial DNA. What is more interesting is the external genetic information it contains."

"Stop beating around the bush," Amanda ordered.

"It contains DNA similar to reptiles, though infinitely more complex." The man continued to lead her down the underground halls. "But it is separate from the main threads, an external influence. It changes the original. To what extent, I do not know. We do not have a base to act as a control. We only know the sample has been changed because of an experiment where we introduced other DNA samples to a drop, and this 'reptile strand' spread and infected the new blood."

Amanda didn't say anything, mind racing at the implications. The image of a stern blonde, Glynda Goodwitch, transforming into a dragon yesterday.

"Third, and most importantly, is what happens when the blood is mixed with still living material," the pale scientist continued. The pair had reached a lab attended by other scientists watching and documenting something occurring in a small cage. They parted as the pair approached.

In the small container, a tiny white mouse paced around the edges, head swinging back and forth as its beady orange and slit eyes took in the room, the people, and its cage.

Tiny, almost invisible scales dotted its tail.

"We gave it one drop. Only one." The head scientist said, almost reverentially, as tiny slit orange eyes watched them warily. "It became smarter. Stronger. Faster. Better in every way imaginable. The blood does not spread. Unlike a virus, it doesn't self-replicate. The change is directly proportional to the amount of blood introduced to total body mass. It would take roughly half a litre to see comparative transformations in a human."

"We do not have enough blood for that," Amanda said, disgruntled.

"We don't." The scientist agreed as his eyes met hers steadily. Left unsaid was that they needed more. "The blood doesn't reject anything—an actual, universal donor. It works for any species, sex, or organism. As we have seen, the transformation can be reversed without health detriments, leaving only the benefits. It can be ingested or injected. Everything it touches is more than it was before. And the growth is exponential."

Visions of draconic soldiers swam in Waller's mind. Heroes they could trust, given a dose of blood to see their powers grow exponentially.

Immortality.

"Enough blood could turn anyone, absolutely anyone, into a god." There was a look in the scientist's eyes; the genuine desire, the flame of ambition. His passion was admirable, even if it did make him look a little sinister. He met her eyes, emphasizing every word he said next. "This is the next step in human evolution."

There was a beat of silence.

"How much do you need?" Amanda asked, turning her eyes back to the dragon-mouse.

"As much as possible." He answered, calming down now that he had the promise of support. "Samples from the Dragon would be best. A beast of that size has more than enough blood to lose."

"We know how to get to the island," Amanda nodded, a plan forming in her mind. "Getting back with any samples is the problem."

"If you manage it, bring samples from other wildlife there. It might be the island itself that is the key. Other fauna might possess similar blood. We need anything and everything."

"You'll have your samples," Amanda said firmly. "Keep up the good work, and learn everything you can about it. Especially if we can replicate it."

"Of course."

"I do not want even a hint of this leaking out," the PRT head emphasized. The tall man nodded. "If the Elden Lord finds out, we can kiss goodbye to our lives, country, or even the earth. He's fooled others with that goody-too-shoes act, but I don't buy it."

"Naturally."

"I'll be back in a week to inspect your progress," Amanda turned to leave. She still had to meet with Captain America about rebuilding the Clevland branch of the Protectorate. She paused, realizing an oversight. "I never caught your name."

"My apologies," the man said with a somewhat archaic bow. "I assumed someone had briefed you. I took over after Director Westfield's unfortunate accident. Nathaniel Essex, at your service."