Chapter 27: Rumble in Gotham

Word Count : 7759

So, I'm finally back, after close to two years. I have finished writing my book, now I just need to finish things like maps and front cover before finding someone stupid enough to publish the damn thing. But at the very least I'll be able to return to fanfics now. Hope the waiting was worth it for you. If not... well, tough luck.

Chapter 27: Rumble in Gotham

"One simple, flawless mission. Is that too much to ask for?" Krieg ground out in annoyance from behind his cover as bullets whizzed overhead. Really, was it too much to ask for? To have one single mission that did not go to hell before they were even halfway done? Apparently it was, considering how things were progressing so far. And the mission had started so well to begin with. A mechanical monstrosity named Metallo, who Krieg was still having a hard time deciding if it should be classified as a cyborg or an Abominable Intelligence, was running rampant in Stagg Industries' headquarter in Gotham and needed to be stopped. But with Superman busy on the other side of the globe and Batman having his hands full with a pile of sentient mud in Gotham's sewers, someone else had needed to be sent in, which consisted of about two other Leaguers. Of course, since the CEO of Stagg Industries was on the League's radar, they saw this as a perfect opportunity to snoop around for some incriminating information on the man and his business while the heavy hitters slugged it out with Metallo. And who did the Justice League call on when covert actions were required, even when their track record showed that covert was not their forte?

"Krieg calling anyone listening. I'm pinned down on the 20th floor," a quick pause in his calm and monotone report followed as he saw the door he had charged through and barricaded a few moments earlier shake from an impact. "… and I'm about to be surrounded. I'm unsure how long I will be able to hold my current position. Estimated time until mission completion?" at first, there came no answer over the comm, and Krieg began to wonder if jamming technology was in place.

"Still working on it, should be done in a few more minutes," and there came Robin's reply over the infernal mind link he was forced to endure, bringing out a small growl of frustration. By the Emperor's Golden Throne, how he hated it. "Oh, and try using the mind link rather than your comm, Krieg. Makes it easier to communicate," had the acrobatic heretic been physically present, Krieg would have given him a stone-cold glare as an answer. As it was, he let his silence express what he thought of that suggestion.

"Krieg, are you in trouble?" and then the Atlantean abhuman joined in as well, which had Krieg gritting his teeth in equal amounts displeasure and annoyance. Had the fish abomination not heard his earlier report? Though considering the state of their leader, that was highly likely. For whatever reason, the abhuman had been very distracted throughout the whole mission, his mind wandering elsewhere rather than staying in the here and now. Which incidentally played a large role in the current debacle.

"Relocating," Krieg reluctantly reported through the mind link as the door gave another shake, his hands being a bit too preoccupied to handle the comm at the moment. A flashbang was hurled over his cover, followed seconds later by a bang and a chorus of screams from the obviously unprepared security guards.

"Wait! Hold your position! I'm sending help over!" Aqualad frantically called, but was ignored by Krieg.

"What help? You've split the entire team up," he retorted, right before rising up from behind his cover, shotgun aimed down the corridor and quickly pumping out shots at anything that moved. With machine-like precision, Krieg strode down the corridor at a calm and sedated pace, putting rubber bullets in every guard crossing his path. An easy feat, considering they were too busy clutching their ringing ears or rubbing their blinded eyes. The last one however had recovered enough to retaliate. But Krieg was faster as he ducked under the man's aim and came back up with an uppercut to the shin that left him flat on his back. A quick stomp of his boot to the guard's face later, and he was down for the count. Right in time too, as the door caved in and fresh guards rushed in guns blazing. With only a light grunt to signify his annoyance, Krieg dove into cover as bullets whizzed by and returned fire.

"Hold up Krieg, I'm coming to help!" Aqualad assured, right before they heard what could only be a gasp of pain.

"I take it your help has been postponed," Krieg remarked dryly as he took a few potshots around the corner. But no answer came. Blasted abhuman.

"Kaldur's down! I'm going to help him!" Kid Flash suddenly called out in distress, no doubt already in motion.

"No, you imbecile! You're supposed to guard Robin!" Krieg called after him in vain, being thoroughly ignored. "Artemis, are you close enough to take up the mutant's position?"

"Nope, Kaldur placed me almost on the top floor," the reply had Krieg gritting his teeth. That infernal abhuman, he knew the boy was making a colossal mistake with how he deployed the team. He had kept his mouth shut then, and now he was deeply regretting it.

"Oi, Superboy, Miss M, how are things on your end?" Robin called out to the last two members of the team.

"Busy right now. Call back later!" came the frantic response from Superboy, and no response from the green skinned xeno. For a fleeting moment, Krieg hoped that the silence signaled her demise. But reality quickly dashed those dreams by the fact that the accursed mind link was still operational. Most likely she was too busy the respond.

"Alright, hold your position Robin, I'm on my way," Krieg replied sourly as he checked his stockpile. Completely out of flashbangs, and only on smoke grenade left. It sure had been a hectic day.

"What about your objective?" Krieg did not fully catch who asked that question, and neither did he care at this point as he hurled the smoke grenade around the corner, silently lamenting the League's prohibition on lethal grenades.

"Inconsequential at this stage," he responded before charging headlong into the thick white smoke, infrared sight active to guide him through. The guards obviously did not possess the same technology, but they compensated by wildly spraying away in every direction. A bullet ricocheted off a shoulder plate, two more smacked him straight in the chest, and a lucky one found a gap in in the armor and went right through his thigh. None of them slowed Krieg down the slightest as he powered on through and shoulder tackled the first guard to block his path. Blinded by the smoke, they did not realize their quarry was already in the midst before it was too late. First guard received an elbow to the face before a roundhouse kick silenced a second. Third one tried to frantically shoot Krieg, who countered by using a fourth as a shield. As his bullet-riddled corpse collapsed to the ground, Krieg attacked again, landing a kick between the legs that had the guard doubling over and received an uppercut to the face. Then he was moving again, his kukri suddenly in his hand as he ducked under a gun swung like a bat and struck a deep blow at the heel. But the way the guard fell over screaming, Krieg reckoned he hit something important.

No time to celebrate though, more enemies to beat. A bullet ricocheted off his helmet, staggering him but not stopping him. Ramming headfirst into his next opponent, he hurled him over his shoulder as he powered through to the last three. Without warning, his kukri swung out and slashed across one guard's face, gouging out an eye. As he fell back screaming, Krieg moved on to the next, sidestepping a sloppy attack and giving a powerful stomp to the guard's knee. He was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as the third and final opponent came at him. Krieg simply hurled his knife at him, burying it in the guard's shoulder. Pain made him stagger back, and that was all Krieg needed as he charged in and gave him a knee to the stomach before grabbing his head and slamming it into the wall. And as the guard collapsed to the floor, the smoke finally dissipated enough to reveal Krieg as the sole person still standing.

"Estimate time until arrival: three minutes," Krieg reported as he retrieved his kukri and calmly strode onward. As soon as he rounded the corner however, he was meet with well over twenty fresh guards, armed and ready for him.

"… Make that five minutes," Krieg corrected, completely at ease as he cracked his knuckles in preparation.

Even by the Team's usual standards, this mission had gone completely to hell in a handbasket. And Robin was well aware what that said about their track record.

"Guess things would get pretty boring if everything went according to plan," he muttered sardonically to himself, alone in the control room apart from a dozen or so unconscious guards while furiously typing away at a keyboard. Say what you want about that ass Simon Stagg and his rotten corporation, he sure knew how to encrypt his valuable and incriminating information. Nowhere near the level of Wayne Enterprises or LexCorp, but still enough to provide a bit of a challenge. He might have even enjoyed the challenge if not for how the rest of the mission was going. Scattered, confused, and slowly being overwhelmed, this was most certainly not the time to be enjoying himself.

"Come on, come on, come on," he frantically urged the computer as the necessary information was slowly downloaded onto a USB stick, his usual glove having taken a bit of a beating in the scuffles. Finally, with a satisfying ping, the download finished, and Robin triumphantly grabbed his prize.

"Okay guys, I've got what we're after! We should probably get out of here before-" the rest of his message was lost as a sudden force slammed into the back of Robin's head, knocking him out cold in a heartbeat.

Krieg knew something was wrong the second Robin grew silent. The little pipsqueak was all but incapable to keep his mouth shut for long periods of time. So he accelerated his pace and charged headlong around the corner, just in time to see a shadowy individual fleeing in the opposite direction.

"Unknown assailant spotted, in pursuit," Krieg reported without slowing down.

"Wait, what about Robin?" came the frantic question from Kid Flash, but Krieg ignored him as he charged on. He found his target wrenching an elevator door open with his bare hands before diving down the shaft. 'Strength above average human level, most likely meta or enhanced,' Krieg observed without a hint of worry as he dived in after him without a second's hesitation. Grabbing onto the elevator cables, he slid down at alarming speed, passing floor after floor at dizzying speed, entering the building's sub-levels before impacting the elevator with enough force to momentarily drive the air out of his lungs. But he only allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath before jumping into the elevator, even though his legs still ached from the land. He found dozens of guards out cold inside, and heard further scuffles outside. Continuing on, he could hear the noises coming down the hall. There, he found his target dragging someone through a door marked with the ominous symbol of a yellow triangle with a black skull at its core. But Krieg was not about to be deterred that easily, and so tackled the door open. On the other side, he found himself atop a catwalk that some genius had the brilliant idea to place right over a neat row of open cisterns, each one filled near to the brim with a strange and sinister-looking concoction that bubbled ominously.

"Who designs things like these? And what is it doing in an office building to begin with?" he muttered quietly to himself. Though he supposed this could potentially be used as proof against Simon Stagg's duplicity. Then again, he had no idea if people here considered this illegal or not. What did Krieg know about the judicial system anyway? Not like it seemed to have much usage either way. But those were concerns for later, right now he had other matters to deal with. Said matters stood opposite him, right in the middle of the catwalk with a security guard firmly held in his grasp like a human shield. And now that he could see his opponent in a better light, Krieg recognized him instantly.

"Deathstroke," he growled out as he crouched into a fighting stance, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice.

"Krieg, what an unexpected surprise to run into you here, it's certainly been a while since our last encounter," Deathstroke greeted amicably, like old friends reunited after a long time. It made Krieg sneer behind his mask. Deathstroke meanwhile used his free hand to pluck out a USB stick from his belt.

"I suppose then that you're after this, considering the great lengths your friend went through to acquire it in the first place?" he inquired innocently, even as his other hand tightened around the whimpering guard in his arms, but was met with silence from Krieg. Truth be told, he had not possessed the faintest clue what exactly Deathstroke had taken, he had just seen an unknown assailant attempt an escape, and had assumed that the tactically sound move was to prevent said escape.

"Unfortunately for you, my employers are most eager to get their hands on this piece of information. Instead, I have a counter offer for you," suddenly, there was a knife in his hand and positioned at the guard's throat, who let out a frightened yelp at the feeling of cold steel gently caressing his skin. "You let me walk out of here with the information, or I slit this man's throat," Krieg was close to scoffing at the threat. As if a nuisance like that would be enough to stop him.

"You can kill every man and woman in this building, guilty and innocent alike, for all I care. You're not walking out of this building with that Intel," Krieg stated coldly. While Deathstroke remained unmoved by the declaration, the guard had an instant panic attack.

"What the hell, hero?! You're supposed to save lives!" he screamed in terror. Krieg only spared a single look of disdain at the weakling.

"You've obviously confused me with someone who cares," he sneered at him. If the guard allowed himself to be captured alive when he should have fought to the death, then it was not Krieg's issue whatever happened to him. The mission always came first, regardless of the cost.

"Prove it," Deathstroke challenged, completely at ease as if everything was going according to plan. Krieg did not need more of an invitation than that as he charged at him, kukri in hand again. With an almost contemptuous gesture, Deathstroke slit the guard's throat and hurled him over the railing into the toxic bath beneath before spreading his arms wide as if daring Krieg to strike at him. Krieg for his part more than dared as he came with a wide slash at his mask and an uppercut as a follow-up. Both were easily evade before a boot came flying up and slammed into Krieg's stomach, sending him staggering back several steps. Undeterred, Krieg attacked again, ducking under Deathstroke's fist to strike at his legs. His blade naught but air as Deathstroke leaped over him. Spinning around with the intent of catching the older man in the land, Krieg was instead greeted with a fist to the face and a knee to the groin before a kick to the chest sent him flying back, slamming into the catwalk with his back, pain blooming all over.

"The first time we fought, I held back to gauge your skills. The second time, I underestimated just how far you were willing to go compared to your team. I can assure you, I won't be doing either this time around," Deathstroke warned as he idly flexed his fingers before tightening them into fists and charging. And by the Emperor was he fast. Barely was Krieg back up on his feet before he had to dodge a kick and sidestep a fist before a sudden haymaker made him see stars and stumble back. Suddenly a strong hand was clutching the front of his uniform and dragging him forward into an awaiting knee that had him doubling over and receiving an elbow to the back that left him on all fours short on breath and trouble breathing. And Deathstroke had no interest in giving him a chance to recover as a boot flipped him over and slammed him into the railing hard enough to dent it. 'By the Emperor, I'm going to be feeling that on in the morning,' Krieg observed as a dull ache began spreading throughout his entire spine.

"Done now?" Deathstroke inquired curiously, hands folded behind his back as he stood above the beaten Krieg. Beaten, but not defeated.

"No," he snarled out as he leaped up with an uppercut that Deathstroke simply stepped back to avoid, giving Krieg enough space to bring a boot up in what was meant as a powerful kick. Deathstroke caught the boot in his hands, the two locked in that position for a few seconds as Deathstroke allowed Krieg to grasp just how screwed he currently was. Then Krieg went flying through the air as Deathstroke swung him like a baton into the catwalk face first. There was an audible crack from the blow, but Krieg was in too much pain already to determine what had broken. Yet still he forced his battered body back up again and attacked Deathstroke again. Krieg swung fist after fist at the one-eyed mercenary, yet he evaded each one with laughable ease, his movements almost a blur to the disoriented Krieg.

"As usual, you're tenacious, never giving up no matter how outclassed you are," Deathstroke idly remarked as he sidestepped a lunge from Krieg and gave him a vicious kick to the back. "Normally I would admire such a drive, but right now you're just making things complicated for me," Krieg barely listened to the man's ramblings, did not even ponder about what exactly he was talking about, all he cared about was beating him. So he attacked again, sending a fist flying straight at Deathstroke's face. It was caught mere inches away from its target before it was slammed back into Krieg's face, right before an even more powerful blow from Deathstroke sent him careening into the railings again. This time however the blow was powerful enough to send Krieg tumbling right over it and falling towards the vile concoction bubbling beneath the catwalk.

For but a fleeting moment, everything seemed to slow to a crawl as Krieg beheld what could very well be his death. He had once heard the saying that in their last moments, people showed who they truly were. Krieg personally took it as a good sign for his soul then that nothing changed for him. There was no fear or panic for him, no last minute regrets over past mistakes, just a minor annoyance that he could not bring his killer with him to the grave. This was what he had been created for to begin, his very reason to exist; to die in service to the Emperor and humanity, and he felt no reason to fear what was inevitable. Then, the moment passed, and time sped up again as he plummeted downwards. Or at least he would have, if his fall did not come to an abrupt end by a very firm grip on his ankle. Dangling upside down, with what promised to be a painful death just beneath him, it took a moment for the befuddled Krieg to grasp that he was not falling anymore. And once that knowledge had finally dawned to him, he looked up to his unexpected savior, to find Deathstroke firmly holding on to him.

"You… saved me?" Krieg found himself asking in utter bafflement. Were they not supposed to be enemies here? He had been under the belief that only the Justice League willfully handicapped themselves like this.

"I'm not through with you yet," Deathstroke stated, and then Krieg felt himself flying through the air again as Deathstroke hauled him back up and hurled him across the catwalk. Krieg was instantly back up again and on the offensive. He charged in with another blow aimed at Deathstroke's head, which the man sidestepped without any trouble. But this time, Krieg was ready and spun around to strike with his elbow instead. The blow landed squarely on Deathstroke's mask, knocking the mercenary back a few steps. But he barely seemed fazed by the blow as he ran a glowed hand of the small dent left in his mask.

"Alright then…" he commented, and then he was in motion. A pain in Krieg's side signified a blow there before a second pain bloomed in his stomach and a third in his back. Something smacked him hard enough to send his helmet bouncing away, then he felt a few of his teeth pop out from the next series of blows. A rib or two definitively cracked from what had to have been a kick, he tasted blood in his mouth while a shoulder was dislocated, and where did the left lens of his gasmask go all of a sudden? Then, a final uppercut that almost broke his jaw left Krieg flat on his back, barely conscious and unable to even move his limbs. Sheer willpower kept him conscious, but not even that was enough to influence his utterly battered body, which every part of him hurt in one way or another. And Deathstroke? The man was not even winded after their scuffle.

"I take it you've finally had enough," he observed nonchalantly as he dusted off some nonexistent dirt from his arms. "Still, why this meeting was completely by accident, and I had to improvise much on the fly, I think this was much productive for us both," Krieg dearly wanted to snarl out a scathing comment at the arrogant heretic, but he did not even possess the strength for that.

"Not only are you willing to go to any lengths in pursuit of your goal, you're also willing to sacrifice the lives of others in pursuit of that goal," for a fleeting moment, Krieg got the strange feeling that Deathstroke was smiling at him from beneath that mask of his. "Congratulations Krieg, you've passed the third test," and then he was gone, leaving Krieg alone atop the catwalk. And there was only one thing that Krieg could think of as he struggled to stay conscious. 'Batman is not going to be pleased,'

Batman was not pleased. Even with that cowl and his unshakable stoicism, they could all tell it. Krieg supposed it was the silence that tipped them off. After all, Batman was usually very swift with dealing out praises and orders. When he was this quiet, it usually meant bad news. But to be honest, Krieg could not fault Batman's displeasure. After all, the Team made quite the pathetic sight right about now, standing in a ragged line with more cuts, bruises and torn pieces of clothing than anyone felt like counting. To top it all off, not a single objective had been achieved. The Intel they came for was stolen, and Metallo had apparently managed to escape. All in all, the whole mission was one giant debacle.

"I need to talk to Aqualad. The rest of you, hit the showers and head home," Batman finally ordered, and it was an order Krieg was more than willing to obey as he turned around and marched straight towards the zeta tubes. Well, "limped" may have been a more apt description. Punching the coordinates for Los Angeles in, he spared the briefest of glances back at the aquatic abhuman he was forced to call leader before stepping into the zeta tube. As he saw it, the whole debacle was his fault, and he deserved whatever punishment Batman dealt out to him.

"Recognized, Krieg, B04," personally, he was almost sad to be sent away, there was a miniscule part of him that would have enjoyed watching the abhuman squirm under Batman's lecture. But a larger part of him was too tired and too sore for that, and just wanted to head back to his base to resupply, repair his uniform, get a few hours of rest and then head out to patrol. But as he stepped out of the zeta tube disguised as an old phone booth, a gunshot suddenly echoed through the evening air. All previous plans were put on hold as Krieg drew his grapple gun and headed for the roofs, trying to pinpoint where the shot came from. A second gunshot led him straight to where to obvious fight was taking place. From atop the roofs, he surveyed the scene below him. Narrow alley, five standing hostiles, two on the ground, one young girl, revolver in hand and pointed at her assailants.

"I'm warning you, I still have four more shots, and I'm not afraid to use them," she warned, her voice strong and her aim steady. Definitively more backbone than what Krieg usually saw.

"So? We got you outnumbered, bitch. You'll only get off one more shot at best if we rush you," one of the assailants sneered, but even Krieg could detect the faintest tremor in his voice. 'Pathetic,'

"True, but that shot will definitively hit one of you, it's just a matter of who it will be. So the question is if any of you are willing to play a bit of Russian roulette," she easily countered, not the faintest trace of fear in her. No matter, this farce of a robbery had gone on long enough in Krieg's opinion, and so he fired his grapple gun and swung down. Slamming boot first into a very startled criminal, Krieg sent him crashing into one of his compatriots as Krieg spun to deliver a haymaker to a third opponent with enough force to send him crashing head first into a wall.

"What the fuck?!" the fourth one burst out in shock as he began frantically backpedaling away from Krieg. Undeterred, he charged the criminal, knocking him over and silencing him with a boot to the face. A sudden flare of pain in his leg reminded Krieg however that he was not in the best of condition at the moment, falling to one knee with an irritated grunt the only sound of discomfort from him. But it left him vulnerable as the final criminal had pushed his compatriot off of him and was now advancing on Krieg with a pocket knife in hand. Krieg just sneered at him as he tried turning to face him. 'As if that will be enough to stop me,' but barely had the criminal taken three steps before a gunshot rang out, spraying the pavement with his blood as the lifeless corpse toppled over. Krieg did not so much as flinch.

"It was unnecessary of you to waste a bullet on him. He posed no threat to me," he simply said, awkwardly rising back on his feet again.

"Sorry, Krieg, didn't want to take any chances," the girl answered. And now that he was closer, he found that he recognized that voice. And sure enough, when he turned to face her, he found a familiar face staring back at him.

"Miss Roth," he greeted with a slight nod of his head.

"Please, just call me Rachel, no need for all that formality," she responded as she came to stand next to him, a concerned frown on her face. "Rough day, I take it? I would recommend some ice for that swollen eye of yours," her comment confused Krieg at first. How did she know his left eye was swollen? And then he remembered that Deathstroke had knocked the lens out of his mask.

"Mission gone bad," was all he said on the matter before trying to change the subject. "It is getting late. Allow me to escort you back home," his comment earned him a small smile from Rachel.

"Quite the gentleman, aren't you? Chaperoning a young lady home in the dark to keep her safe from the cruel men," she lightly teased him, which Krieg was entirely oblivious to.

"Criminals are rarely active at this time of the day, so there is few other productive things I can do for the next few hours. Besides, I doubt you qualify for the title of lady," he responded dully, to which he got an elbow in the side that hurt far more than he showed.

"Gee, you sure know how to charm a girl, don't you?" Rachel commented in mock annoyance, something which once again flew right over Krieg's head.

"No, I honestly do not, and I fail to see where you could have picked up such misinformation from," he simply stated.

"Did your lose ability to understand sarcasm wherever you lost that lens?" she deadpanned at him in amusement.

"Deciphering emotions is not my forte, miss Roth," he countered, his voice lacking the usual bite it possessed whenever he ended up in similar discussions with his team.

"Didn't I already tell you to just call me Rachel?"

"Spare me the attitude, and I'll take your request under consideration,"

"Was that a joke from you?"

"No, it was a statement of facts,"

"Are you like this with all your friends?"

"I honestly would not know,"

Gotham sewers. If there was one place criminals and innocents alike preferred to steer clear off, it was the sewers. Largely due to the local reptilian freak of nature that turned alligator in the sewers rumors into real-life horror stories. But Metallo was wholly unconcerned about such pesky annoyances. After all, he was made entirely of metal, what would Killer Croc do? Gnaw on his ankles until his teeth fell out? But still, that did not mean that Metallo had not his own reservations about this place. Chief among those was the filth, that even now seemed to find ways to squeeze in under his plates. It would take weeks to clean those again. Seriously, why the hell would his benefactor wish to meet him here of all places?

"You're late," not that he was going to complain, if his underlings were even half as tough as their boss. Seriously, that man was huge in his fancy red armor! And whatever hocus pocus he possessed was not to be trifled with either.

"Sorry about that, those League of Shadow mooks kept pestering me to come and met their boss as well," and what an annoyance that had been for Metallo. The assassins had hired him for a job as the distraction while they stole every scrap of information from that asshole Stagg. Apparently, after their Fog thingamabob bit the dust, they decided to go at it the old fashioned way. Now that the job was done, it seemed like they wanted him as a permanent staff member. Too bad for them that he already had a much better client.

"Did you at least get what I wanted?" the inquiry from the red giant had Metallo lightly throw an USB at him, which stopped halfway between them and then gently hovered into the giant's waiting palm.

"Idiots were too busy clapping each other on the back for a job well done to notice that I copied every piece of Intel. Only Deathstroke smelled something fishy, but that fucker was called away before he could take a closer look," the explanation seemed to satisfy the giant, as a short nod was given before a briefcase floated up to Metallo.

"As agreed upon," he said as Metallo opened the briefcase, to be met with stack upon stack of juicy cash.

"Always great doing business with you, sir," Metallo thanked as he closed the briefcase again and made to leave, happy as can be.

"One moment, if you please," but that had him stopping and turning to face the giant again. "I have another offer for you. There's a war coming to this world, the likes of which have never been seen before," a pause followed, and Metallo got the distinct feeling that the red giant was smiling at him beneath that helmet of his. "How would you like to be on the winning side?" with such an offering, there was really one thing to say in Metallo's opinion.

"I'm listening,"

How he ended up like this, he would never quite figure out. He had meant to simply escort Rachel home, then head back to his base. But somehow, she managed to rope him into letting her tend to his wounds personally. And then somehow he ended up sitting at her table, a cup of tea in hand and a chessboard between them. Sixth game so far, with only one win for Krieg. It was a minor frustration for Krieg.

"You're too aggressive," Rachel suddenly spoke up as she moved a pawn up.

"I beg your pardon?" Krieg inquired as he moved in with a bishop to snatch the pawn up.

"Your gameplay, it's too aggressive. You're constantly on the offensive, always trying to take every piece of mine without any regard for defense," she explained without taking her eyes of the board, before moving her queen up right in the middle, alone and isolated.

"Defending means that you allow the enemy to dictate the terms of the battle. Besides…" and Krieg was quick to pounce as he moved in with a rook to remove her queen. "… Destroy the enemy forces, take out their most powerful pieces, and you will have won through attrition alone," by now, it was clear that he was talking about more than just the chess game.

"True, but you're falling into the same mindset that has doomed many strategists, that winning battles is the same as winning the war," as Rachel explained this, she moved in with a bishop, straight through a gap Krieg had unknowingly left in his line with his previous two moves. "Checkmate," while Rachel leaned back in her seat to sip some of her tea, Krieg silently stared at the board like it held the answer to every question in the world. Every piece, every square, every move, every position, every tiny little detail was analyzed from behind his blank gasmask.

"Again," he finally declared, but Rachel made no move to reset the board.

"You're predictable, Krieg, you never change your strategy," she lightly chastised him, which had Krieg glaring at her in annoyance.

"It has served me well so far. I even managed to defeat you once," he defended, to which he received a shake of the head from Rachel.

"You beat me the first time, because I was caught unprepared by your aggressive style of play. After that however, I learned to predict and counter your moves. Like the fact that you're willing to throw everything away for a chance to land a single blow on your opponent. That kind of thinking can be easily exploited as I've done the last few matches. Try to think more outside the box, and you'll have greater chance of winning," with her impromptu lecture done with, she obliged his request and reset the board. Soon enough, it became obvious he had taken her advice to heart, to a minor extent at the very least. He was still very much on the offensive every chance he got, and he was still at least three steps behind Rachel.

"By the way, saw the news yesterday," Rachel began halfway through the game, to which she received a light grunt to indicate Krieg was listening. "You've made quite the impression all over the country with your statement," and that sentence had Krieg diverting his full and undivided attention to Rachel.

"What statement?" he asked in confusion, wracking his brain for any instance where he had conversed with news reporters and coming up blank.

"G. Gordon Godfrey recorded a conversation between you and black Canary. 'And who gave the Justice League the right to decide what's best for us?' I believe that was how you phrased it," Rachel elaborated. And that was when it came back to Krieg. That useless charity event with those criminals.

"I never realized that event was recorded," he admitted with the barest hint of shame coloring his otherwise stoic tone. Not that he would ever admit it.

"Media has been eating it up, and the online forums are abuzz with people either praising or condemning you," a wry smile came to Rachel's face. "You've become quite the base-breaking person,"

"What they believe about me matters not to me, so long as they don't interfere with my duty," Krieg stated uncaringly. As he saw it, civilians had no right to involve themselves in matters of soldiers.

"That might unfortunately happen," Rachel gravelly warned. A pointed look demanding explanation from Krieg had Rachel doing just that.

"Ever wonder why heroes rarely, if ever, kills the criminals they catch?" the inquiry brought a sneer of distaste to Krieg's lips.

"Because they cling to their archaic morals like a drowning man clinging to a piece of debris out in the ocean, lacking the will to do what is necessary," he spat out every word like it was a heinous curse.

"That too," Rachel acknowledged, though the frown on her face signaled she would have preferred to use more tactful words. "But another is the simple fact that they don't have the right to kill them. And I'm not talking about morally right," that last part was hastily added when it looked like Krieg was about to bite out something scathing. "I'm talking legally right here. Earth's governments are already uneasy enough as it is allowing super powered people and costumed vigilantes running around unchallenged, they would never allow those people to take the law entirely into their hands, as it would undermine their own authority," on some level, Krieg could see the logic behind that. After all, an Inquisitor would never allow a civilian try to move into his jurisdiction, no matter how qualified they might appear.

"I was under the impression that the Justice League was not answerable to any single country, acting as a global and independent force," Krieg stated out skeptically.

"But they are held responsible before the UN, even having signed a charter that gives them the right to act within UN countries but limits the amount of freedom of acting they have. Checks and balances, that's how the modern democratic world works," and Rachel's explanation sounded completely pointless to Krieg's very much Imperial mindset. No wonder few things got done with that kind of faulty system. Guess that was what happened when the ignorant masses were given a voice in matters.

"That doesn't explain what this has to do with me," he pointed out.

"While the average joe is singing your praises for doing what they feel the Justice League should be doing, the politicians are growing worried that you are a loose cannon, a wildcard that cannot be controlled or reasoned with. Not that they're phrasing it like that, they're simply saying that you're 'a menace to society' and is 'corrupting the youths of today with your violent and anti-government tendencies'. Sooner or later, someone is going to think you've gone too far and come after you. Then you'll be the criminal in the eyes of the law," Rachel's warning elicited no reaction from Krieg. No sound, no twitch, not the faintest trace of what he was thinking.

"Let them try," he finally challenged as he moved his knight on the board. "Your move,"

Stagg Industries was a mess right now. Its headquarter an absolute mess with police officers stalking the corridors trying to piece it all together. Wounded employees were rushed to hospitals while corpses were collected for identification. Only the sub-levels were left in peace, largely due to Simon Stagg's deep pockets had been nearly emptied to keep curious minds away. Which suited Azkillon perfectly as he strolled through the deserted halls, neither police nor security present to stop him. Finally, he stood before the very same cisterns that Krieg and Deathstroke had fought above, whose content remained undisturbed within.

"What a shame that your life had to end in such an ignoble mess," Azkillon spoke in mock sympathy, gauntleted hand running gently across the cistern. "Lucky for you, I'm here to help," then, a miasma of otherwordly power gathered in the palm of his hand before it was violently shoved into the cistern, the foul energy dispersing inside the equally foul liquid within. At first, nothing happened, with only the slow bubbling of the insidious concoction. But then, movement in the liquid, a vaguely humanoid shape writhing beneath the surface. Slowly, the vague shape gained more mass and more human form. And then, with an anguished scream, the figure broke the surface, alive and whole again.

With desperation born from the sense of drowning, the shape frantically clamored for the cistern's edge, hauling himself out of the liquid to fall to the floor in a soaked mess. And as the newly revived guard puked the excess liquid out of his stomach and lungs, Azkillon beheld his newest creation. While his body was shaped like that of an adult man, the mismatching colors all across him clearly belonged to something far beyond a mere man. A bald head, white as chalk, with an upper body half purple and half orange, not to mention a silver left leg and a brown right leg. No, he was definitively more than human now. Or maybe less.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Rex Mason," Azkillon eventually spoke up, to which the kneeling and hunched over man at his feet turned his disbelieving eyes up at the red giant before him.

"Who… who are you?" Rex managed to ask, voice weak and hoarse.

"My name is Azkillon, and I restored you to life," Azkillon answered, before almost nonchalantly adding. "Well, more or less, anyway," the vague admission had Rex turn his eyes to his own body, and did not like what he saw.

"What- what is this?!" he cried out in dismay, tugging at his skin like he expected it to peel off like a suit. He was to be very much disappointed as it stuck firmly to his powerful frame.

"Calm down, Rex," Azkillon soothingly spoke, to little effect.

"Calm down?! I'm a freak, a monster! WHY THE HELL SHOULD I CALM DOWN?!" Rex shouted in equal parts anger and despair. It served to erode what little patience was left in Azkillon.

"I said, be calm," he ordered more forcefully, his psychic power dampening Rex's turbulent soul until the man simply sat on his knees in numb despair.

"How could this have happened?" Rex asked, devoid of the will to even raise his head.

"Don't you remember? You were at the mercy of Deathstroke, and the hero Krieg left you to die," Azkillon reminded him. At the mention of Krieg, something dark ignited in Rex's otherwise lifeless eyes, something which brought his will back.

"Krieg," he snarled out in anger, face twisting into a furious visage as his fingers dug through the concrete like it was sand.

"Yes, the boy that made you into what you are now, the boy serving the Justice League," Azkillon pushed on, his slithering voice worming its way into Rex's broken mind, remolding it into a twisted abomination of what it once was. "How would you like to have revenge? Better yet, how would you like to have your humanity back? Join me, pledge your service to my gods, and you will have both, and whatever else you desire," had he still been his old self, Rex would have fled in terror at that, never once looked back. But Rex was no longer his old self, but something far more twisted. And this new Rex only had one thing to ask.

"What must I do, master?"

Barely had Krieg returned to his base before he was called back to the Cave, a new mission from Batman waiting. A quick change of uniform later, and a few painkillers chewed like candy, and Krieg was back in full gear ready for action.

"Orders, sir?" Krieg requested of the stoic Batman without even sparing his team so much as a glance.

"Sure you are ready for field work?" Batman simply asked, clearly remembering his disheveled state from before. Even with the painkillers dulling the pain, Krieg still felt uncomfortably stiff, not to mentioned a dull ache in his chest whenever he took a deep breath, but he let none of them show.

"Ready and waiting, sir," he responded. Whether Batman believed it or not was anyone's guess, but he let the matter drop at least.

"Then we're just waiting for your team leader," he revealed, and Krieg was close to letting out a loud scoff. Aqualad? Team leader? After their latest mission? Honestly, he was not that much surprised that the Justice League was still putting their faith in the abhuman, it sure fit their habit of completely disregarding simple logic.

"Recognized, Aqualad, B02," lo and behold, there was the abhuman in question, strolling in like he had done nothing wrong. From behind his gasmask, Krieg glared in distaste at him, an action which went unnoticed.

"Made your decision?" Batman asked as he began typing on a holographic keyboard.

"The decision is made. I am here, one hundred percent," Aqualad answered, which had Krieg looking between him and Batman in confusion. What were they talking about?

"Just in time for your next mission," but Krieg quickly put that question aside, deeming it of little importance to him, and instead paid full attention to Batman's debriefing.

"The Watchtower detected an immense power surge in the Bialyan desert…"