And while the powerful and beautiful sorceress was grabbing her head, the recording was viewed by many people around the globe and even put the knowledge gained into practice. At Joker's request, the cyborg made sure that the device could reach as large an audience as possible, spreading its signal like a virus through relay stations, and even implemented an automatic translator that was able to track the region of the broadcast.
In the basement of a two-story building that looked more like the laboratory of a mad scientist obsessed with the cold, two people stood at a table with a half-disassembled device to which a laptop was connected. Nearby, a television was on, but its sound was successfully muffled by the humming of a huge translucent capsule covered in frost. Behind the glass of the unit one could hardly distinguish the face of a beautiful girl with snow-white hair.
One of the people in the room looked like a typical dark-skinned teenager with a subtle build and was completely absorbed in what was happening on the laptop screen, occasionally writhing with pain in his bandaged palm, while the other looked like an alien because of his blue skin color, completely bald head and closed spacesuit, which was actually a mobile refrigerator, and was engaged in thoughtful contemplation of someone else's work.
"Eh," the "alien," who had a doctorate in several fields, shook his head dejectedly as he watched the boy deftly reprogramming the cryopulse, increasing its already high efficiency by dynamically adjusting the cooling system. - I wish I had your knowledge for the benefit of science... Hmm, Mark, how would you like to be my assistant? I could really use an extra pair of hands.
"I'm sorry, doctor, but I'm more interested in creating games. Besides, they bring the company a good income," the young man replied embarrassed, glancing guiltily at his interlocutor before concentrating on the lines of code again.
"Nonsense," Fryce waved it away. - Science is the main thing in life.
"I'm afraid Mr. Arkham wouldn't appreciate it if I abandoned the project. Defense of the Towers is projected to bring the company at least ten million."
"The man chewed his lip thoughtfully, and then determination appeared in his eyes. - So, if my invention brings more, you'll think about my offer! After all, automating some processes can reduce the cost of resources and increase efficiency.
"Whoa-ar-ar! - From the intercom connected to the front door came the distant roar of one of the monsters.
"Mark, finish up quickly. The Parademons are acting up again."
"Maybe we shouldn't. I don't think they're coming in here anymore..."
"You saw the broadcast, - Victor nodded at the TV, where Joker once again demonstrated the correct sigil inscription. - If any freaks start to benefit society, I, as a conscious citizen, simply can't stay aside," he said with a spiritualized face.
"Uh-huh, freaks..." the guy glanced at the new Arkham Industries employee, whose bald blue head glistened under the light of the lamps.
"You have something against it," the doctor squinted at his future assistant.
"No, Dr. Fryce, you're imagining things... Oh, the program is installed! - Mark exclaimed happily, trying to change the subject. Luckily, the failed supervillain didn't emphasize the caveat and went off to put on a more appropriate outfit.
Three minutes later, the doors of the building opened, and out stepped a scientist in his spacesuit, which had acquired armored plates, and a cryopouch. He stepped around a pair of ice sculptures of monsters frozen forever at the entrance and walked briskly toward the sounds of battle.
***
The apartment on the outskirts of Gotham boasted a creative clutter, mostly consisting of various electronic components, half-disassembled household appliances, as if found in a dumpster, and alien-looking high-precision devices, as well as the presence of two parademons.
Unlike most half-demonic alien creatures, this pair of monsters was completely calm. And if everything was clear with one of the monsters: it was lying on the table with an open skull, in which a thin red-haired man in a white lab coat with half-erased initials "J. Tetch" on the left side of his chest was concentrating, the second cyberjuk, at first glance, had no visible damage. Although, if you looked closely, you could see a wide blue rim firmly encircling the monster's head.
After a while, the scientist, who looked like a maniacal ripper, straightened up tiredly and got rid of his gloves stained with green blood and landed on the creaking sofa opposite the painting of Alice's mad tea party in Wonderland, which quite accurately reflected the madness going on around him.
"What an interesting solution, but it would be too extreme to remove part of the brain," the apartment owner muttered quietly to himself, making notes in a scribbled notebook. The man's acquaintances had always been annoyed by his habit of speaking his thoughts aloud, but he often worked alone, and the sound of his own voice helped him concentrate better on the task at hand. - Only further amplification of the signal would fry the brain... Hmm... And you could try to temporarily reduce cognitive functions with medical drugs. Oh, then even half the power would be enough, which would really reduce the cost of production!
His eyes glittered feverishly, but faded as he looked at the voluminous stack of bills on the nightstand. They'd been a bit of a problem to pay since he'd been fired from WayneTech. And all he wanted to do was make the world a little better! But no, those snobby board members said the research was inhumane and just shut the project down. That's not fair!
Enraged, the man threw the notepad, hitting the parademon standing against the wall, who didn't react in any way.
"Calm down, Jervis," the scientist patted his cheeks and hurried to return the research results. - The bastards from the company won't get away from you, but you won't be able to get the materials for the neural implants anytime soon. Hey, dumbass," he said to the unmoving statue. - Throw the corpse of your kin into the sea, before it stinks up the place, and come back. We have some serious business to attend to.
The man's gaze happened to fix on a picture of a mad tea party hanging on the wall.
"Uh, why not? Where was the St. Patrick's costume?"
***
One notable elite nightclub, located almost in the heart of Los Angeles, was completely unaffected by the alien invasion, although the neighboring buildings were almost completely deserted. Flying monsters did not see it, flying around in a great arc, and people running in panic did not notice anything unusual. Inside, a dark-haired man with a slight unshaven face sat behind the bar, clearly trying to drink himself into oblivion. Judging by the battery of empty bottles of elite hard liquor, the goal was close, but for some reason the "man's" gaze remained as clear as it had been at the beginning of the drunkenness.
"Lucifer! - Suddenly the doors of the club swung open, and a pistol-wielding, furious woman whose eyes thundered and thunderbolted appeared on the threshold.
"Oh, Chloe, - the man behind the bar waved an empty bottle of century-old whiskey. - You're just in time, come in. We'll watch the demise of mankind from the front rows together.
"What the hell?! You beat Michael, the apocalypse is off."
"Apokolips doesn't," he shrugged lazily, took another good sip, and sniffed his jacket sleeve. - Ugh. See for yourself. It's simply out of my jurisdiction, for I am but a humble lord of Hell.
The club owner clicked the remote control, and the image on the huge plasma screen with the request to proceed to the nearest shelter changed to images of the red planet. Its surface jerked closer, and the woman saw the real hell. Hundreds of people lived like maddened beasts, and familiar monsters flying aloft or standing on high walls watched indifferently. In the next shot, some unfortunate man was thrown into a giant fire, where he began to burn alive, but his flesh was constantly regenerating, prolonging the agony.
Lucifer kept switching channels, showing the shocked viewer more and more horrors of Apokolips. True, he himself was watching the events on the screen with great interest. No matter how strong the fallen archangel was, the red planet was in the fourth dimension, and if not for the portal funnels opening all over the world, it would have been impossible to admire the other-worldly "beauties".
- Darkseid's planet, ours will soon turn into its likeness," Lucifer said sadly. - Though I am not sure about the Hell Pits. Still, they use a rather complex mechanism to maintain life, which can hardly be realized on Earth.
"Can't you beat this Darkseid?"
"He gently stroked her head, smiling sadly, "It's not all that simple in this world," he said. - Darkseid is incredibly strong, he can destroy the Earth with his presence, so even I will have to try to kill him. But I won't do it anyway.
"But why? Don't you care about the rules?! You even put the management of hell on someone else's shoulders."
"Exactly," the man raised his finger importantly. - The local Hell is one of the many reflections of the place where sinners are tortured and tormented, and I, as an incredibly wise and talented leader, can safely delegate my powers to a smarter demon, but Apokolips is the only one in the entire multiverse. If I kill its ruler, I'll have to personally take over the vacant seat, so as not to upset the balance. Life cannot exist without Death, Order without Chaos, Creation without Destruction. Come on, you don't want to hear about metaphysical entities.
The detective frowned.
"Wait, I heard for sure that some superheroes are fighting this monster in Gotham right now. That doesn't seem to fit with what you said about destroying the planet."
"Yes? - Lucifer, interested, clicked the remote control again, and the screen showed footage of the battle of several heroes against a huge humanoid in blue armor. Darkseid easily took all the attacks on his chest, and then answered, scattering the defenders of the Earth like children. - Oh, I see, it's just an emblem. Well, avatar, - he explained, but continuing to see the incomprehensible look of the interlocutor, decided to clarify again. - You could say that we are facing a clone that possesses only a part of the original's powers. A very small part.
"The detective, biting her lip in excitement, watched the fight, but she saw that the monster was just playing, because in the meantime the towers continued to slowly suck the very life out of the planet, and the captured people were slowly undergoing transformation to replenish the countless army of parademons."
"You know, I could save you and take you to another universe that's no different from this one. Well, maybe in some of the little details you wouldn't even notice, like the blue cups at Starbucks," the Lord of Hell said, taking another good sip.
~Slap~
Suddenly, the woman gave Lucifer a resounding slap, causing him to spill the fine drink.
"I'd rather die trying to save the Earth than leave it to its fate. You just sit there and revel in your helplessness, Lord of the Underworld," she said, glaring fiercely at the calm man, who was unimpressed by her outburst of anger, and hurried outside.
The nightclub owner looked sadly at his friend as she ran away. He couldn't really intervene, because he didn't want to violate his own principles and attract the Presence's attention. It would be better to let the world die than to socialize with this old man again. It was just one of the many dimensions, like the archangel's consciousness, which would simply dissolve, transferring the information to other bodies.
"Okay, what else is interesting to see."
To the fallen man's surprise, instead of the standard emergency message, there was some kind of broadcast where a green-haired gentleman with a wide smile and a perfectly fitting purple suit was broadcasting how to get rid of the intrusive attention of the flying monsters and agitating the people to fight back against the aliens.
He hummed and switched the channel again, turning to his powers. This time, the TV was interfering at first with vague images, but Lucifer concentrated a little, and the ripples disappeared, revealing two people. One of them, dressed in a dark suit with a cloak and a strange mask with pointed ears, controlled the entrance to a cyclopean-sized room, while the other, looking like a robot, was concentrating on the control panel of an unrealistically huge machine.
It took Lucifer a while to understand the intent of this twosome, and afterwards he realized with a shock that humanity actually had a chance, and he wouldn't even have to interfere.
"There's a reason I decided to limit my own powers," he nodded to his own thoughts. - There's so much more to learn. Maze!
"You called? - Just seconds later, a gorgeous mulatto woman appeared at the bar.
"Yeah, how would you like to walk the streets and, I don't know, kill a hundred or two things? No fanaticism, just to unwind."
"I have a better idea," a predatory smile appeared on her face.
"Hey, I'm not opening a portal to Hell and letting sinners out, don't even ask."
"No, no, no, no, don't you remember that little project with the imps? Wait, you really don't remember! - the woman looked at the thoughtful boss with shock. - And I was also wondering why you don't ask for any reports...
Lucifer rubbed his forehead, stimulating thought. He was aware of all his projects, and nothing could escape his attention, especially those related to demonic brats. Only if...
"Maze, didn't I give you this project after the party with Asmodeus? - He asked cautiously.
"To think of it," the woman shook her hands indignantly. - I spent ten years on this project, dealing with logistics, and you didn't even remember it!
"All-in-all, calm down and tell me the gist," the club owner stood up and, picking up another bottle, headed for the door, deciding to listen to his subordinate on the way, or they were already very late.
"You barge in on me in the middle of the night and start complaining that the world is somehow boring because the government isn't giving the newly emerging superheroes and supervillains a proper turn."
"And what did you do?"
"Found a couple of savvy subordinates in Hell and created artifacts to build..."
***
The hot air burned his lungs unpleasantly with every breath, but Batman was used to the sensation. The more so, the superhero had no time to be distracted by all sorts of trifles. All his attention was absorbed in watching the room, waiting for the opponents, who did not seek to show themselves, although the feeling of other people's gaze, coming from all sides, hinted that he was not alone.
"Almost done," Cyborg whispered softly from the speaker as he fiddled with a dashboard connected to a huge sphere made of giant rotating rings. In its center hovered the Mother Cube, enveloped in a cocoon of dense red energy used to create numerous portals.
The greatest detective's body tensed up, ready to snap into action, and his concentration was maxed out by his heightened paranoia. It was all too easy. Their duo had made unimpeded use of the portal gates, which, as it turned out, didn't work all the time, but turned on temporarily, ferrying small groups in both directions. The parademons left most of the people in the black towers, putting them in yellow capsules, and only a few "lucky" ones were dragged to Apokolips. So even after the transfer, no one was going to detain or search anyone. A couple of black cloaked men at the portal arch didn't even look at the next group of creatures, which included a couple of disguised superheroes.
On the planet itself, no one noticed the parademon carrying the prisoner in its paws, as if it should. The only difficulty arose when they reached the source of the signal, having first deactivated the rippling cloak. But even here the entrance was guarded by only two monsters, and inside was only one man in a black robe, who introduced himself as Desaad and promised them hundreds of years of the worst torture if they dared to touch him. A single punch to the jaw from Gotham's protector silenced the pompous fool, and Cyborg proceeded to hack into the device.
"Finished."
Batman was distracted from his close inspection of the room by Victor's voice.
"Then let's go."
"I hope it works, or we'll have to fight our way out," the dark-skinned man reached the exit, cut his cheek slightly, and waiting for some blood to come out, dabbed it on the jewel next to his breastplate. A moment, and the image of an ordinary parademon appeared instead. The armored monster picked up the man in the gray cloak and flew toward the nearest portal installation.
As soon as the Earth defenders left the room, a bound Desaad stirred sluggishly on the floor, trying in vain to reach the transmitter in his pocket.
"You've lost something."
The mystic was distracted from his attempts to escape by a pleasant female voice. The mystic was distracted from his attempts to escape by a pleasant female voice. Strict facial features, sensual, slightly puffy lips, blue eyes, dark skin tone, and a perfect athletic figure with a narrow waist and breasts to a solid four, which was perfectly emphasized by a tight-fitting armor with a golden breastplate. However, her height of more than two and a half meters would hardly allow her to be confused with the inhabitants of Themyscira, on whom the goddesses had worked thoroughly in ancient times.
"Barda?! How the hell did outsiders get into this place! - The man was indignant. - If the lord finds out that you left your post, you'll be in trouble. Hurry up and untie me.
"You still don't understand anything," the woman shook her head dejectedly and stepped her foot on the head of the bound captive.
"What are you doing?! Stop this at once! I'll feed you to the Hounds in the lower town, but I'll let them have their way with you if you don't stop. Damn it, guards!!! - He shrieked wildly as he felt the pressure build up.
"No one will hear you," the warrior said angrily, and the bastard's head did burst, spilling its contents dramatically. - What foolishness, to leave an enemy behind. Amateurs," she shook the remnants of the alien's brains off her boot and left the room, hurrying to the nearest portal to Earth. If her plan worked out, Darkseid would have nothing to do with the escape of one of the Furies and the death of one of his most loyal subjects, and if not, she wouldn't be alive for long.