Quarter before seven finds me lounging on the roof of the expansive Wayne Tower in my somewhat dirtier white suit, with a trusty Nimbus 2000, a spread of books before me, and a liter bottle with a squirt top half-full of some fluid that's poison green and I think faintly glowing. I'm careful not to get too near, being about twenty feet, to the edge.
"Forward momentum." I toasted my once headspace partner Miles Vorkosigan "Got to keep that forward momentum." and I took a squirt of the stuff from his book. If it has a name, I've forgotten it, but it's about 60% ethanol, a serious concentration of amphetamines, and when Miles drank it in the book he didn't sleep for four or five days but attacked every problem with manic energy. Best thing I can say about the taste is after the first couple pulls my taste buds became numb to it. Today I have learned that while the Grail proofed me against sedatives, it has done nothing about stimulants or depressants. Hurrah. The crash is going to be legendary when it comes, but if it's not gonna be an issue for the next forty-eight hours, I feel confident in labeling it 'Future Bookworm's problem.'
So, catching you up. It took us a while to find the official emergency contingency plan, a three page document that, when you remove all the bureacratic doublespeak, padding and ass-covering amounted to three, no four, options. Light Bat-signal, call Governor, call FEMA and d.) all of the above. So I called the Governor, jumped through some hoops to reach him in his off hours, but she had already heard of the situation through the news and was calling in the Guard for disaster relief. FEMA took up a lot of time dealing with bureaucracy and phone menus, and I held out little hope for intervention. Batman is either already helping, in severe trouble, or dead. I don't think at this point I even believe the last is a serious possibility. If you kill Batman, you'll only make him angry.
We also caught up with Vinny, who was furious. I had to grab the nearest flying Monkey and amend my instructions to bringing any living unattended children to Vinny. The mangled bodies were not helping the kids' peace of mind any while we tried to sort out whose parents were living or dead. The bodies of childre I had them send to the Old Churchyard, for later identification and burial.
GCPD was probably the first building I saw all evening that was partially collapsed. The upper floors were gone, but the bottom two stood and even looked solid. Sticking out from under a rubble heap, along with half a car, was what I believed to be the remains of a high-powered spotlight. So much for step one of the emergency plan.
Inside, I was a bit surprised to find the formidable Barbara Gordon coordinating the emergency response. Not least because despite being the boss's daughter, she doesn't have any actual authority to tell a policeman so much as to pass the salt. I guess I shouldn't have been, though. In a crisis, you listen to whoever is barking orders and seems to know what she's doing, and no member of the Bat Family is slow to adapt to changing circumstances. Neither am I, really, so I'll trust that Oracle knows what she's doing.
Pretty too. Hey, I can't help but notice these things. Helps I've a fond spot for both redheads and women with brains. Not that I'm ever going anywhere near that, my life is crazy enough without trying to be Oracle's Catwoman. Plus, body may be young but I'm pretty sure I have at least fifteen years on her by this point, so that'd be sketch.
"We officially have a functioning fire department on SAR, at until noon. What's the next miracle we need?"
She looks up, taking everything in in a moment. "Right now, I'd settle for coffee. But if you could bring back that healing sword we could get a lot done."
I nodded. I read once that in any huge civic disaster, the top priority for the first three days was search and rescue and medical treatment. Makes sense, since we have tons more hurt and dying people than we can feasibly treat conventionally.
At the same time, we needed to be arranging shelter, food and water for the people displaced by the crisis, and any additional medical supplies while ironing out the inevitable bottlenecks when supplies run out or can't get where they need to be because the roads are worse than useless right now. In theory, this is probably what I should have been doing from the start, at least if I'd had no handy powers for getting things started. And I really do need to try and follow up on the medical angle, make sure the hospitals won't collapse, distribute some more magic healing. Christ, we'd barely kept up with the Clench, and that was effectively nipping it in the bud before it became a huge problem, there were going to be far more injured tonight. Freddie and I really couldn't do this alone.
So don't waste precious time trying. Make the most of available resources.
Right. Like the Fire Department, I have thousands of people whose job it is to try and handle this crisis. I just need to give them the tools and organization they need to do their jobs.
It's a... novel way of thinking. I'm really not accustomed to trusting people outside my small inner circle. But this needs to change. The sheer scale of the Cataclysm demands it.
I pull out one Woundhealer, than another, and a third and fourth before The Lost Book of Swords: Woundhealer turned too dark and burnt for me to read. Not getting any more use out of that one for a long time. A pity, since unlike healing potions and cordials and waters, Woundhealer is almost infinitely reusable. Well, maybe the Grail would work in a pinch, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am spreading that around so freely.
"Freddie! You're still the fastest. Distribute these to nurses, no need to tie up a physician. Go... what's the status on Gotham Central and Mercy hospitals? Do we have any field hospitals in the worst affected areas?"
"Doubt it, at least none have been in contact. But there will be EMTS and Fire on site doing the best they can." Barbara went back to typing something on the computer.
"Right, just... use your best judgement on where the Swords should go. They're all Woundhealer, if that wasn't obvious." All the Twelve Swords of Power have a distinctive mark near the hilt, Freddie's known me long enough to know most of them, probably. Woundhealer's is a white hand, incidentally. Otherwise the Swords are identical. "Then help out however you can. Rescue, Triage. You have the metals. In fact, let me top you off." I pulled a copy of Mistborn out of my pocket and a minute later handed Freddie three vials of the eight basic metals. That should give him a diverse toolset to help out, enhanced senses to find people, Pushing and Pulling metal to help dig them out, increased strength and endurance, Even Soothing away trauma and motivating other rescue workers.
Freddie hustled out. Right, thinking past the next few hours. The National Guard will be here in a day or two, hopefully with the food, water and medicine we'll need, but I don't want to totally depend on them if this is going where I'm afraid it is, and that does us little good right now. It's near winter, so shelter is our most urgent need. People can live a couple days without water, weeks without food, but they'll be freezing to death tonight with their homes wrecked and nowhere to go, and even those that live could get hypothermia and further strain our medical capacity. Problem is, any standing building could still collapse at any moment, except those built by Wayne Construction in recent decades (and bless Thomas and Martha's paranoid little boy, for insisting every building his company built be quakeproofed no matter the cost). Unfortunately, I don't exactly know off the top of my head which buildings were built by one particular company and when.
Well, not entirely true, I know Wayne Construction did tons of renovations to Arkham over the years but a.) I don't know and kind of doubt they did the ground-up rebuilding they'd need to quakeproof the place b.) they don't have the size or the facilities to meet even an appreciable fraction of our needs and c.) I am NOT stuffing Arkham Asylum full of helpless hostages during a crisis. Good gravy, but I can't imagine a single scenario where that possibly ends well.
Okay. Maybe I can call and ask Wayne or one of his people where the WC buildings are. Can probably get a lot of people off the streets if we double up in apartments and stick people in halls and stairwells. Won't be comfy, but better than sleeping outside in November. Things like tents and portable garages could at least get people out of the wind.
Do I have any magic that can help? Instant construction isn't something you see a lot of. Hmmm... there was a holographic mansion in Tekwar but we never see the projection device. This one rod in DnD will raise iron walls instantly and even make a door, but we'd still need to build a roof and lift it into place on each hut, they'd be small and probably not terribly warm. Keep that one in mind for the longer term. Oh! The Young Ancients! Specifically, the fourth book. They had these little amulets that with a tap created a two-story house with five bedrooms and a kitchen, all made of opaque forcefields! There was even a second amulet that fetched water from the nearest source so they could have hot and cold running water. I probably can't make more than twenty or thirty before char or my spell cap becomes an issue, but it's something. Just need to think if I have anything better. Pity Orion's Arm never existed in real print, they'd have some kind of nanotech assemblers that could rebuild the city inside a week.
I started making calls, and pretty much spent the next couple of hours throwing my weight as mayor around. Metropolis Fire and PD were unwilling to risk the Metro-Narrows, but contributed several boat-loads of men and supplies, while Bludhaven insisted they had their own problems.
At ten PM, pooped beyond belief, I fetched one last bit of magic, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Normally, time-travel is impossible with libriomancy, that kind of magic just requires too much power for even a whole world's shared belief to make up the difference. Rowling's Time-Turner, though, is a special case. Not only is there a ton of belief invested in it, it operates on very limited rules. Six hours back, and not a second longer. No visiting the future. Finally, everything operates as a closed time loop. You can't change history, nevermind Hermione was terribly concerned about doing just that and had dread stories of paradox and gruesome death she'd been warned with.
It's much the same reason I can't make Aladdin's ring and have a genie fulfill my every desire, but I can pop open an old AD&D manual and score a Ring of Three Wishes, as long as I'm very careful how I use them. It's a lot less open-ended and powerful.
So three hours after the quake, I departed the timeline to go back to three hours before. The first time around, I hadn't entirely trusted the note, which likely came from myself, but could have been from Capricorn or my third, least stable lieutenant. Much as I might hope for the last, this time around I had a large and early/late dinner, left myself the note, and started doing prep-work. I called the firefighters all to muster at their stations for inspection this evening. I thought of the wrecked upper floors of GCPD and thought briefly about launching a simulated (or real!) crime wave to empty out the station house, but James immediately shot it down as impractical on our short timeframe. Instead I borrowed from Harry Potter again, using dungbombs and my beloved invisible Cloak of Darkness to give the upper stories the unmistakable scent of a sewer. Should give people an incentive not to hang around, anyways.
Most of the rest of my time was spent learning that no, there's isn't an easy and convenient way to cut the gas, water or power to the whole city or large portions thereof. In fact, some very smart engineers have invested quite some time in making it hard to do without something like overloading the grid so it has a safety shutdown.
So I reached back to Rising and hooked the ZPM up to the grid ten minutes ago, causing widespread blackouts.
The last thing I did, over twenty minutes before the quake, was call one Alfred Pennyworth, impersonating a seismologist and saying there was a monster quake on the way and he needed to leave his home now. Best not to leave Batman's survival to chance.
Incidentally, Alfred is an all-around awesome person, and I deeply regret brainwashing him to report Bruce's movements to me that one time. In my defense, I had no idea the long-term tension between his own loyalties and that particular form of mind control could lead to a psychotic break, and I did everything I could to fix it without exposing what I did when I did realize it. Which is a lot. Respect the hell out of the man, and never ever messing with his noggin again. Black Alfred scares me, quite a bit.
Which brings me back here, drinking a terrible stimulant so I can stay up all night, watching the sunset, waiting for the world to end again and going through books that might be useful. I settle on Drowned Wednesday for my first pick of the evening. Earthquakes can cause tidal waves, right? Best to limit the collateral.
For the first time, I get a chance to really sit down and think. Honest talk time, how responsible am I in all this? I'm pretty sure the quake happens in the comics, so presumably it would have happened anyways. But I don't know precisely when. It kind of strains belief in coincidence that two weeks after I have John freaking Constantine open up the eldritch evil faucet, there's a major disaster. Or my brilliant plan to lure Capricorn back here so I can kill him. Hells, it's even possible, if unlikely, I called this down by duplicating the Grail where there are real angels to get offended. Sure, it's just a fake, and they'd presumably know this, but that might just make them madder.
Self-indulgent, self-flagellating popery. I had thought we'd broken you of that unfortunate habit.
Oh please, I admit, Roman Catholic boy here and my first reaction to bad things happening is sometimes to assume it's my fault. But while DC-the-company might have danced around the idea of God with things like the Presence or the Source, there are actual angels here. We've seen the nameless God given precedence by all manner of demons and divinities in that one Sandman comic. There's even a hero, one of the Captain Ethnic Squad called the Global Guardians, whose powers come from the God of scripture. Seraph, Israel's headline superhero, with the strength of Samson (awfully similar to the strength of Superman) the ring of Solomon, the mantle of Elijah and oh yes, the staff of Moses which can turn into a humongous snake, part water, and recreate all the Plagues of Egypt.
Come to think of it. I've never heard any Palestinian or Arabic superhero (well, maybe Black Adam) in anything like Seraph's weight-class. Or an Israeli-Palestine dispute. Or a Palestine or Palestinian at all. Wow, that train of thought got dark rather quickly. Hopefully things wound up much better in the Middle East than I'm imagining right now. Maybe Superman just talked everyone around into mutual respect and compromise? I'd believe he could do it.
Note to self, if I ever have free time again, do some research into why I've never heard of Israel-Palestine, find out if it's not in the news because superheroes are so much more interesting, peace in the Middle East was achieved while I wasn't looking, or Seraph got biblical on some civilian enemies of his state. Also, how closely is Seraph associated with the Israeli government? How come you don't hear of more government-sponsored superheroes? And-
Focus please. We have at best mere minutes until disaster, and you're of no use to anyone so scatter-brained. Almost as bad as Holmes and his opiates...
Right. There are downsides to liquid meth besides the crash. Don't try this at home, everybody. For now, Drowned Wednesday, I choose you! A little reading and I pull out a large blue fork, slightly longer than my hand with the prongs spread wider than my fist, the Third Key. This requires a little more setup than most of my magic.
"I, John Binder, Mayor of Gotham and as good an heir to the Architect as any, claim this Key and with it mastery over the Border Sea. I claim this by blood and bone and contest. In truth, in testament, and against all trouble!"
There's a shift I'm not sure I can describe, as the universe accepts my claim and adjusts ever so slightly to the new reality. One in which I am the undisputed Sovereign of the One True Sea, and likewise master over all it's lesser copies throughout the Secondary Realms, aka the multiverse. Doubt there will be that much fuss though, you'd have to be super attuned to magic, the universe or the oceans to even notice what just happened. The Third Key expands in an eyeblink into a majestic cerulean trident. In fact, it looks suspiciously like a palette-swap of the one from the Little Mermaid.
No matter. After I get up from being bounced around by the shocks (really glad now, that I didn't sit on the edge like I first wanted) I see a huge-ripple spreading out from the mainland towards us, Bludhave and Metropolis. Not on my watch! I point the Key, which glows and an equal and opposite wave rises from the sea to clash with the outgoing. The sea gets awfully choppy for a moment, but I smooth that over too.
Like the first time, I can see the flicker of a firestorm staring to engulf downtown. This time, I'm much better equipped to do something about it. I wave the Key in that general area, and the Atlantic rises to cover the area. Let's see now. I want to put the fires out, and not drown millions of Gothamites. The human body can survive three minutes or so without air, but people will be passing out after the first minute or so and I'd rather they didn't as they might still be in danger. So let's count off one minute on my watch, and then send the water back. As an afterthought, I have the ocean spit out any humans or significant sized objects it was carrying on the way out. Be a right shame to sweep half my city's people out to sea.
Looks like the fires are out. I'll have to keep half an eye out for more flare-ups. Oh! I can still do something about the problem of water busting things open, filling crevices that people fell into, and such. I point the Key again and tell all water North of the Reservoir and South of the Marina to just ignore gravity for the time being.
I love the Keys to the House. They're so broken.
I do need to maintain the effect, but it's not a huge effort. I just need to not get too distracted, I can even do other things.
Wow. From up here, the damage looks even worse. Two questions war in my head for my attention. How are we ever going to bounce back from this, and why did the city break the first week I was in charge?
Nevermind, have a freakout session later. Where can I do the most- oh, that's not good. One skyscraper has fallen, and is being only barely held up by another. Beneath them is... Theater Row, Gotham's version of Broadway. It's seven o'clock on a Friday night, where do you suppose people are? By and large, not in office buildings.
"Up!" I catch the handle of the broomstick, kick a leg over it and fly off, still trying to keep my trident pointed in roughly the right direction while I zip down. Some people are leaving the theaters, either from the quake or the power outage, but not fast enough. "Move!" I stride into the furthest building from my start and call out in my loudest voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please don't panic, but we are all in danger, Leave this building and this street in a calm and orderly manner, please, but Leave."
I'm not normally much of a yeller but people hop to, if still a bit slower than I'd really like. Would it panic them if I added a building was about to fall on all of us? Well, they're moving anyways. Something about the ground shakes and then a man shows up with a giant glowing fork telling you to move makes you want to leave, I guess.
It takes me over half an hour to clear out all ten theaters on Theater Row, the whole time rather viscerally aware of the multi-ton Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. This kind of risking self for others and no real reward is really not something I do, or plan to make a habit of. But just for tonight, it's something that has to be done.
While I'm pondering my next move, I realize the trident's gone dark. I forgot to maintain the antigravity water effect so I sweep the Key to restore it, just as the tower finally falls. Whoops.
Well, here I am in the downtown area. Past me is setting up the shelter and the longer-term stuff, so I guess I'm on Search and Rescue and healing. I pick out a new Sword for the evening. Wayfinder can direct me to people in need, and tell me whether or there's someone under a particular pile of rubble. Juggling a broomstick, a trident and a Sword is quite awkward and I'm afraid for a moment I'll have to give one up. Then I mount the broom and Key both, holding them in one hand if not as tight as I'd like. If I don't fly fast this should work.
Okay Sword, I want the save the most possible lives in Gotham tonight. Show me the way to do that. I start to turn in an awkward little circle, then realize I don't need to do this on the ground and kick off. Much easier to spin on a broomstick in the air than with that same broom between your legs on the ground. The Sword quivers suddenly, so that's my route and I fly along it.
It's gonna be a long night, and not just because I added six hours to it.
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Who holds Wayfinder finds good roads
It's master's step is brisk.
The Sword of Wisdom lightens loads
But adds unto their risk.