Booster Gold #24 - Revisited

^{<< First | < Previous | Next > Coming November 15th}

Author: ScarecrowSid

Book: Booster Gold

Set: 29

★ Now

    It is important, when coming back from the dead, to ease into any encounter with people from your past life. The impulse of anyone who has faked their death is to try and settle back into their friendships and obligations as if nothing happened, but that can’t happen. A death, even a fraudulent one, has consequences.

    Booster Gold stared at the scratched black glass of the front door, frowning as his hand was held up, poised to knock. He considered just how he would explain his disappearance, and the reaction his return would elicit. Perhaps a fond embrace, complete with tears in eyes and an ugly smile. The sort where joy is so overwhelming that you twist your face into a such a shape it is hard to discern from agony.

    There were, of course, other options. Stoic silence was one, and would be appropriate. Shock was certainly something to be expected, and then maybe it would tumble into tears. That was another acceptable reunion, and Booster readied to knock.

    He stopped himself short, grinning.

    “I almost forgot what century it was,” Booster muttered. A knock on that door would have triggered the security system and given him a nice shock in return. He waved his hand near the dark glass, where the doorknob would have been 300 years ago, and the gesture brought up a small keypad. He ran his fingers over the characters and crafted a message, hoping the meaning would be obvious when she saw it.

    Several moments passed and he began to wonder if, perhaps, the residence was empty. Booster considered leaving, readying to turn on his heel, as a soft hiss filled the hall and the door slid open.

    Michelle stared at him for a moment, ice-blue eyes narrowing briefly as they drifted from the stump of his left arm, to his face, and back again. A few seconds passed, and recognition seemed to wash over her.

    Booster grinned wider, raising his hand in greeting. Michelle seemed to hesitate a moment before bringing her own hand up, taking a step back and looking away from him.

    “Hey, ‘Chelle,” Booster began, stepping toward her.

    He failed to notice her fist until the punch hit him square in the nose, and he stumbled back into the hall as a slew of curses were hurled in his direction. His head struck the wall in the hall, opposite the doorway.

    Michelle stood over him, fist red with his blood, as everything went dark.

★ ★ One Week Ago

    The cyclops crashed against the crystalline wall, leaving a deep shatter pattern and sending chips skittering across the floor. The other machine, the one with the big ‘S’ emblazoned across its chest, advanced on the cyclops with mechanical motions and heavy footfalls.

    “What the hell is that thing?” Booster hissed to Skeets and Kelex.

    “Kal-El spends much of his time off-world, but the Earth still needs his presence to keep things in line,” Kelex replied. “So we built this.”

    The Superman-surrogate lifted the Cyclops by its neck and hurled it against the wall again, then fired off two blue-white beams from its eyes. The air crackled with electricity as they struck the enemy, and the cyclops writhed.

    “A bit on the brutal side, isn’t it?” Booster remarked, watching as the surrogate planted a boot on the Cyclops’ back and grabbed hold of one of its arms. There was a sickening groan, the sound made by buckling iron, as the arm was torn free and tossed aside.

    Booster winced, expecting blood, and felt a sympathetic pang from his own stump. A dark fluid began to pool from the wound but, in place of viscera, there were wires and actuators jammed beneath that crackling blue skin.

    “It lacks Kal-El’s raw strength, but is strong enough to deal with most threats,” Kelex continued, watching the display with the sort of stoic disinterest only a machine could manage.

    “And like to butcher its enemies,” Booster muttered.

    “Doubtful,” Kelex replied. “The sentry will not kill living things.”

    Booster frowned, watching as the Surrogate-Superman tore off another limb and threw it aside before reaching down to take hold of the Cyclops’ head.

    At that moment, Ted found his feet and walked into the room, rotating his shoulder to work out the kinks from his hard landing. He blanched slightly when the Superman Robot ripped the head off the cyclops and held it aloft, like a conqueror of old.

    “Charming,” Ted said, taking a measured step away in the opposite direction of the display.

    The Superman Robot tossed the head aside next, then walked away from the scene, not bothering to say a word as it examined the few wounds it had taken in the brief skirmish. A few wires, frayed and charred, were exposed along its side and the knuckles of both hands had shed their protective shell.

    Booster blinked down at the remains of their enemy, wondering just how the fight had been resolved so quickly, when the crackling blue skin began to bleed from the body and pool around it. That was damned odd, as if the skin were a type of protective coating that melted away.

    Ted seemed to have noticed the strange substance as well, and advanced on the scene with some speed. “What the hell is…”

    As if defending themselves, the pools of blue blood began to shoot toward one another and massed in a single puddle. It began to rise up, coiling upon itself until it formed a sharp peak roughly six feet tall. In the heart of this blue spire, this ever-shifting blob, sat a bright red orb that looked remarkably like the Cyclops’ eye.

    “Uhh, Kelex…” Booster said, stepping away from the strange construct. “You’re going to want to call that Robot back into the room, I think.”

    At that moment, the spire shot out like an arrow, piercing the side of Kelex’s head. The Kryptonian robot stumbled then, crumpling to the floor like a marionette whose strings were sheared away. Booster and Ted stared at one another for a moment, confused by the sudden attack, then simultaneously leaped back as Kelex’s corpse was encased by tendrils of blue skin. The skin began to spark, bright, nearly white, storms of light danced across the dark blue skin as the friendly robot vanished from view.

    A facsimile of Kelex’s corpse, coated in the blue skin, rose from the heap and hovered as if nothing had happened seconds earlier. A glowing red eye sat in the center of its face as it regarded Booster and Ted, malice obvious despite the stillness.

    Skeets shot away from Cyclops-Kelex, rounded Booster and Ted, and hid behind them as the enemy studied the trio.

    Suddenly, Skeets began to shout, “Sir! We need to-”

    The warning was drowned out as an alarm blared overhead, and the thunderous footsteps of Superman Robot began to increase as they turned and advanced on Booster’s little group.

    “Oh, good, it’s coming back to help,” Booster said, releasing a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “What a relief.”

    “Sir,” Skeets hovered into his view, “the enemy is taking control of the Fortress!”

★ ★ ★ Now

    It is unfortunate, but you can tell when your nose is broken with some confidence. Things don’t in the frame of your face the way they had moments before, and your nose didn’t feel swollen so much as it felt like a foreign pile of flesh attached between your eyes.

    Booster took in his surroundings, trying to ignore the pulsing pain spreading over his face. He took in the ceiling first, staring up at filtered pane of glass and watching vehicles whirl overhead. It appeared he was in the apartment now, which was a pleasant improvement.

    “You’re a selfish bastard.”

    Booster turned his head slightly to the right, noting he was on the couch and there was a coffee table between where he lay and the chair Michelle occupied. She sat with her arms crossed and eyes squared on him, the anger there reminded him of his father, but she always looked like their mother.

    “I don’t know about ‘bastard’, but I guess you get points for ‘selfish’,” Booster muttered. He brought up his hand to examine his face, wincing slightly against the tender spots on his nose. “I see you inherited the old man’s left hook after all…”

    Michelle’s expression darkened at the mention of their father. That was new, and he wondered silently what may have happened while he was gone.

    There was a long silence between them. Booster decided to break it, “As you can see, I misplaced mine.”

    She rolled her eyes at that, but her anger seemed to soften. Michelle liked bad jokes, and Booster was something of a self-taught expert at this point. He relaxed at that, realizing for the first time just how tense he had been.

    “And what stupid thing did you do to lose the arm?”

    “Well, it’s a funny story actually-”

    “The truth, Michael,” Michelle said, interrupting him. “For once, the truth.”

    Booster sighed, then winced. Who knew sighing required a fully functioning nose? He supposed everyone learned something new every day.

    Booster grinned at Michelle, holding her gaze before asking, “Where should I start?”

    “At the beginning.”

    Booster rolled his eyes at that, but did as she asked.

    “It all started when I decided to steal a time machine…”

★ ★ ★ ★ One Week Ago

    Hours passed with their enemy in unwavering pursuit. All the security measures that kept this shrine to the Last Son of Krypton in one piece began to unravel themselves. The entire structure rumbled and the sounds of shattering glass seemed to echo all around.

    It was a sad sight, really. Booster had always wanted to visit the fabled retreat of the Man of Steel, but it seemed that his presence here, like so many places before it, only brought misfortune. Several short skirmishes occurred during their pursuit, each ending with another priceless treasure tarnished or solitary relic ruined.

    During this time, a quick stop in a side room granted Ted his Blue Beetle suit and armaments. Booster, meanwhile, wore the ragged remains of his own super-suit like an ill-fitting glove. It was his first time seeing it since the fight, and Booster absently wondered how the rest of the league fared fighting that monster.

    Booster and Ted turned a corner, following Skeets through a hallway that was, strangely, triangular. When it began to rise, sloping up, he and Ted found themselves out of breath.

    “Skeets,” Booster wheezed. “Where the hell are we going?”

    “Out.” Skeets’ reply was terse, that was unusual.

    “Everything okay, buddy?”

    “No.”

    Booster frowned at Skeets, who continued to hover his way up the hallway. It had now slanted to something resembling a slide, and the two men struggled to keep pace as their heels slid out from under them.

    “Buddy, is something wro-”

    Ted elbowed him in the ribs, and the suddenness of it all nearly cost Booster his footing. He glared back at Ted, who shrugged and pointed up at Skeets.

    “Is now really the time for a heart to heart?” Ted asked.

    “What? I’m worried, he’s not himself.”

    “He’s hardware,” Ted replied. “Let’s focus instead on getting the hell away from the corrupted Superman Deathbot that’s running wild below.”

    Booster didn’t like it, but he agreed and they went on and up for some time until they arrived at a small vestibule in the high recesses of the Fortress. Skeets, still silent, led them through the lobby until they arrived at a set of glass doors and stopped before them.

    “Where are we?” Booster asked.

    Skeets replied without turning toward him. “Kelex granted me limited access to some areas of the Fortress before that thing murdered him. I still have that access, but the enemy is overwriting most permissions as we’ve been chased.” There was a soft beep, then the glass melted away and revealed a new room.

    Booster stepped in, passing Skeets, and glanced around the room. Inside were what appeared to be mementos, ranging from archaic farming implements to a full-scale tractor. There were cars too, the sort that fit in with the 20th century aesthetic: trucks, a small sedan, and even a convertible. Booster guessed everyone was entitled to a mid-life crisis, even a superhero.

    The vehicle that caught his attention, however, was something more modern, relatively speaking. A small ocean-hopper from the 23rd century, one of the old Mariner models popular with hobbyists. An odd thing for a man who could fly to own, but Booster supposed that every man was entitled to their eccentricities. Maybe Superman just liked the way it looked.

    “Will she fly?” Booster asked, rounding the sleek-bodied harrier and looked over her peripherals.

    “The records indicate the vehicle is flightworthy,” Skeets replied.

    Ted hobbled over, looking over the ocean-hopper with an envious gleam in his eyes. Only an engineer would find something to lust over while running for their life, Booster didn’t doubt his friend would try to take it apart if given the chance.

    “Ted,” Booster said, a note of reprimand in his tone. “We need to leave, you can study one of these later.”

    “And go where?”

    In reply, the Fortress thundered beneath them. It felt as if the world would give way, and the two of them would plummet to their deaths in rather spectacular fashion. He had no idea whatsoever where they might run to escape a Kryptonian death machine controlled by a parasitic cyclops… thing.

    “Home.” Booster replied with a lie, without considering the implications of the word. “Maybe find a way to contact the Legion.”

    “Legion?” Ted asked.

    “Sorry, League.” Dangerous slip of the tongue there, he didn’t need to be revealing things for no reason. His mouth was always a source of trouble. “We need to contact the heroes of this time, then we can…”

    “Sir!” Skeets shouted. “We need to leave, now.”

    Booster shoved Ted toward the ocean-hopper, and both men found their seats as Skeets began firing up the engines. They sputtered to life like the last gasps of a landed fish, but held true after a few more breaths. You had to love 23rd-century nuclear applications, nothing quite as a clean as splitting an atom to power your daily commute.

    In another second, they were off; But they would be back.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Now

    “So…” Michelle began, sipping her tea. “You faked your death, obviously… then stole a time machine and traveled back in time to be a f*cking superhero?”

    She glared over at Skeets, who seemed to shrink away at the attention.

    “You have to admit, it was a solid plan,” Booster replied. “Would have gone off without a hitch if other time-travelers didn’t get in my damned way.”

    “And you’re named ‘Booster Gold’, and you’re a member of the Justice League…”

    Booster nodded.

    “And you’re friends with Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash…”

    “More of a mentor, really,” Booster corrected. “They look up to me, I’m kind of a phenomenon. The everyman hero…”

    Michelle ignored him. “And you fought a giant flaming monster with Supergirl… fought Nazis from another planet…”

    “Well, every planet has its Nazis. Sad state of the universe, really,” Booster commented.

    “...Fought an alternate universe version of yourself bent on world domination…”

    “Jury’s still out on that one, I think he helped more than he harmed,” Booster noted.

    “...And had your arm torn off by a rabid alien monster before landing in the North Pole, 400 years after the fact…”

    “I nearly had him, you know.”

    Michelle stared at him incredulously. “Are you f*cking high?”

    She glanced out the window then, and gasped. Booster shot up, nearly passing out from the suddenness of the motion, and stared out the window. Hovering there, red cape flapping in the wind, was a stout figure whose chest was emblazoned with a shield bearing and ‘S’, and a single red eye in the center of its face.