General Zod had reached his limit. Suspended in a frictionless gel bubble, there was no way for him to gain traction for movement. Thus, all he could do was ‘sit’ there as the red dawn of a new day on ‘Krypton’ came into being. Beside him was Superman, suspended in his gel bubble, a solution that allowed them to breath and see but do little else. They had discovered a portion of Brainiac here on Warworld, a Protocol that had placed them in this artificial Krypton. No doubt it was meant to contain them, as the filtered sunlight that accompanied that sunrise was real enough that both men were aware of their weakening. Zod could tolerate this torture no more.
“Calm yourself, Zod,” said Superman in efforts to sooth his companion. His eyes were on the horizon as he studied the surroundings now that they were becoming visible. “I’ll have us out of here in a moment.”
Zod replied to that with a snort. “While I draw breath, I have power. Power which I shall wield. There’s only one thing I shall ever owe the House of El,” snapped the enraged General. A red glare swelled before the eyes of his helmet and an instant later the blue gel he was contained in also burned bright and then burst in a steamy explosion. “That might of exhausted the last of my reserves, but I am free!”
To his left, the sphere that held Superman also took on a deep glow, but this one of an intense blue, which drew Zod’s attention. When he turned to see what the Man of Steel was up to, Zod saw Superman expelling air, no doubt a mass the Kryptonian had build up in his lungs since capture. When Superman blew all of that collected air out, it shattered the mask he wore but it also rapidly froze the gel, altering the chemical makeup of the solution and...with a loud *crack!* it broke in half and from that slumped a winded Superman.
“Like I said, you only needed to give me a moment,” Superman said as he got his feet under him. When Zod didn’t answer that, he took it upon himself to do the same thing that Zod had decided to do. They each scanned the horizon as they sought to pinpoint their location. The landscape was fairly barren with no visible signs of animal life, and what plant life there was grew in selective shady places suggested that it was the southern hemisphere. “We’re somewhere east of Kun-Mal,” he decided and turned to look in that direction. “Fifty miles or so? If we head in that direction, the program we’re trapped in might be forced to replicate something we could use. Or perhaps even natives that we could recruit to help us.”
Once again General Zod snorted, this time clearly in disgust. “Your hopefulness is painful.” The armored man shook his head and pointed in the opposite direction. “The Moor Trench is just over that ridge, which is an open chasm to leads to depths near the core of Krypton. Judging by the star chart that was displayed before day break, this is twelve days before the end of the planet, meaning the core is highly unstable. There is an abandoned crystal mine at the Trench.”
“It makes sense, that Protocol wouldn’t want us near any kind of populated area. Considering Kun-Mal is so close, then he must be planning to return to us soon.”
“Which means we will have to act quickly,” Zod growled and started to march to the west, towards the Moor Trench.
“Wait,” Superman raced to catch up and reached for Zod’s shoulder. “We have to work together to get out of here.” Zod shrugged his arm free of Superman’s hold and stared at his unarmored companion. “If we get to the city, I can fashion something to contact Kem-L, and then...”
“This is a program, Kal-El! Miles...do you hear yourself? You have become so...human. There is one way to end this.” Zod turned back to resume his march.
“If the program is so complete, as it appears to be, then you know as well as I do that means this Protocol has removed all of this information from Eradicator, making this the only living record of Krypton. That deserves preserving.”
“Krypton is gone!” Zod snarled as he turned to face the Man of Steel once more, his fists clenched. “If this is all that remains of our homeworld, let history lay claim to it.”
“What...what are you planning to do?”
“This is a program, a recreation and so there is one way to ensure that it comes to an end…a sudden, abrupt end. I shall go to the mine at the Trench, find a suitable crystal and cause it to resonate at the proper frequency so that when it is dropped down the chasm, it will interact with the unstable vibrations of the core. This will cause the core to shatter.”
“You wouldn’t,” Superman said incredulously at the notion of what Zod just proposed.
“If it means living, then yes, Son of Jor-E… I will destroy Krypton to do so.”
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#12
DEC 13 |
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“Eradicated” Part Two
“The only way we’re going to get out of this is to work together,” cautioned Superman as he hastened to keep pace with Zod, whose brisk march west was a determined and quick one. “After freeing ourselves, under this red sun, we don’t have any powers left.”
“Speak for yourself, Earthling,” spat Zod as he thumped his chest. His armor still hummed with life and, though Superman lacked the super-hearing at the moment to confirm it, he knew that Zod’s suit wasn’t as powerful as it normally was despite the General’s boasting. Yet still there was power there, and he could only surmise that it had to have some means of storing a reserve for the wearer, some kind of back-up tank. “I have enough left to do what needs to be done.” Zod turned his head to meet Kal-El’s stare. “And beyond that, I have the nerve.”
“Destroying this place isn’t a guarantee to freedom,” Superman answered. “How do you know that destroying this simulated core of Krypton won’t be real enough to cause an explosion that we won’t survive, that it will only crash the program?”
That stopped Zod, long enough to give Superman answers. “You have until I reach the mine, find a suitable crystal for my purposes and to launch it into the trench.” The General held that ultimatum for a moment, his gaze intense even if concealed by his helmet. Zod looked about to go, but stopped as he had more to say. “On Earth, I can see why you take the position you do among the humans. Even if you don’t recognize it, you feed off their accolades and their dependence on you. In space, trapped here, I...I had hoped to find that there was more to you, Kal-El. That some of the brilliant ruthlessness of your true father had made its way into you, that you would have the pride to use the gifts you find in your possession. I had been foolish to think that there could be cause for pride in you. You are no Kryptonian, no true Kryptonian. Your conduct here on this Krypton, as false as it may be, proves that.”
“You propose a path of weakness, General. You are accepting defeat and your failure to find a solution is a testament to that. You’re uncertain and, if you’re wrong, you’ll destroy yourself to prove it. Are you that scared?”
Zod raised his hand in a flash and...lowered it. “If I could spare the power, I would snap your neck now and be done with the mockery that you are, Son of Jor-El. I was wrong, as there is something more to you after all and something that you have inherited something from your foolish birth father after all. His lofty arrogance; an ignorance toward the importance of action.”
“What of the Kryptonian motto of ‘thought shall prevail’?” Superman hadn’t backed down from Zod’s challenging stance and he wasn’t about to give any room now.
“Science is nothing but a history of action, record of what has happened and is yet to come. Thought without conviction is merely a waste,” the General stated with a lingering, meaningful assessment at and for Superman. Zod then turned and resumed his march. “Your prattle has delayed me enough, Kal-El. You have two cycles,” he stressed as he walked away. “Then we shall be freed, regardless of the outcome.”
Superman knew that it was pointless to follow Zod, nor could he spare the time to thwart what it was that the General was up to. Protocol would return for them soon, he was sure of that as the time here was meant to weaken, if not pacify, the captives. Clearly, it had only worked to enrage Zod but...Superman couldn’t stop to think about that. Being on Krypton, full of the sights and smells he’d only researched, the allure of it all was very compelling. There were parts of him that longed to run off, to discover in detail all that he could find, despite how fabricated it all was. Everything here was pulled directly from the Eradicator’s files and, since the Eradicator was a purely Kryptonian creation, this was as real of a recreation as ever would be possible. And it gave Superman an idea.
Superman didn’t have time to perform all of the rituals, as he had done in his Fortress of Solitude only the day before. He lowered to the ground, knees in the dirt and leaned forward to get his hands into the musky sand as well. He closed his eyes, recited the passages and allowed his mind to enter a trance-like state that he had come to be known as Torquaism-Voa. It was exhausting to enter into such a thing, as he was not as accomplished with the ancient Kryptonian mental art as he would have liked to have been, and already he drained from his normal state by being under the red Roa sun. Yet, there was something about doing it on Krypton that made it easier and Superman found himself lapsing into the meditative state rapidly.
“Eradicator? David?”
“I am here, Superman. I had hoped you would find me.”
“I’m on Warworld now. You’ve been captured, I know. Those messages you were sending me, they reached me, though in my dreams. I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to find you.”
“There is no time for that, Kal-El. What has happened cannot be changed, but it must be stopped. If I remain a part of Protocol’s programming, it shall use me to destroy more worlds than it has already, if not all of them.”
“Where are you? Once I get out of here, I shall come free you. I promise.”
“I know you do, Superman. I am at the heart of Warworld, confined to the central core. You shall not be able to free yourself from the Krypton simulation unaided, I am afraid. However, I have a means to delay this Protocol. It should distract it long enough for me to bypass his systems and to free you, as well as Zod.”
“That would be great, David. Only...connected to your mind like this, I can tell that you’re holding something back from me. What would you be giving Protocol?”
“Do not concern yourself with that, Superman. It must be done if you are to be free. There is no other way, and no time. Now that I know you can be prepared to act, I shall. Be ready, Superman.”
“Keep up Olsen.”
She wore heels but that hardly slowed her down. Metropolis wasn’t the type of city that waited for anything, and especially no one person. It was, after all, the City of Tomorrow. Technology, alien future technology, had come to the city and taken root, as it had transformed every inch of the Big Apricot. Self-flying cars whizzed in all directions and even the trash cans took themselves to the recycling centers. The streets cleaned themselves, which was lovely to live with but it made it difficult to follow certain kinds of leads. Yet, despite all of those advancements, it was still a city filled with people, and Lois Lane knew that people were the greatest resource in hunting down a story. Mankind had a history, which she knew meant that everyone had a story to tell.
“I’m right here with you, Lois,” scoffed Jimmy, who indeed was right there with her. He was just a step behind, but he was there. He was always there, Lois knew, so she wasn’t worried he’d gotten lost. She just liked to remind him that she was one step ahead of him. “I’m just not sure that sneaking into an abandoned warehouse is the right idea, especially in Suicide Slums.” He swallowed. “And even more especially into one that appears,” he pointed to some spray painted tags. “That belongs to the Purple People Eaters.”
Even with Metropolis having undergone a major transformation thanks to the B13 technology that now encompassed it, Suicide Slums had managed to maintain its place within the structure of the city’s social structuring; that of being at the bottom. Trash here outpaced the self-cleansing the city was capable of carrying out, and even with futuristic tech in every building, still many businesses shied away from the Slums. It was a place for the poor and the desperate, and thus also a frequent place for crime. That meant the regular patrols by the police and the constant presence of gangs.
One of those gangs was the Purple People Eaters, which seemed like a rather whimsical or almost childish name but really was due to the high-powered drug that they produced and pushed. Since it was the ‘drug de jour’ in the city, the gang had a rather healthy degree of interest, and thus a very active membership. Lois had done an expose on the gag recently and, thanks to all of that research, she knew full well how unforgiving this particular band of thugs could be.
Lois looked along the unwelcoming warehouse wall in the back alley she had dragged Jimmy into, as she sought to find a window to peer into or maybe find an unlocked door. She quizzed him as a means to remind him of the answers he already knew. “Our mysterious dark figure, what do we know about him?”
“Well,” Jimmy seemed calmer almost instantly, to have something to talk about, “that he’s seeming all over the Slums, making strikes against those carrying out crimes. A real vigilante, or our own dark knight.”
“We called the GCPD, and they confirmed – well, as best as they know of course – that Batman’s still in Gotham, so no more of that wild theory,” Lois said so sternly that Jimmy could hear the eyeroll.
“If anyone is ever going to get a good picture of him, it’s going to be me!”
‘Of course, Jimmy, but this isn’t him so focus here. What else do we know? It’s not just any crime.”
“No, it’s all gang-related stuff. Or rather, only gang violence,” he beamed, as it had been him that first saw that connection among the facts.
“Perry wasn’t kidding when he said that those victims this gangbuster left behind were roughed up. Some of them were nearly torn to pieces and dismantled in ways that, well...”
“What is it, Lois?”
She looked back to him now. “It was almost professional, the way many of those attacks were carried out.” Lois was the daughter of one of the most famous active military generals in the United States, and as an army brat she had been exposed to more than her fair share of enforced training sessions that Sam Lane had arranged for her. She was no crime-fighter herself but she knew enough to know the level of training that would be needed to have done as this mystery figure had left his victims.
“Oh,” said Jimmy, as he hadn’t noticed that. “Do you think it’s him then?”
“Who?”
“The Gangbuster.”
Lois had to give that a solid ‘hrm’ as maybe it was... “Got something,” she stated as she came to a rear entrance to the warehouse. The door was solid and obviously locked and when Jimmy looked at her with a shrug, she pointed to the small window that was propped open above it. “You give me a boost and I’ll open the door from inside.”
Even if Jimmy wanted to caution Lois against it, he knew better not to and did was told. A moment later she opened the door for him, with a finger held up to her lips.
There was noise from deeper within the warehouse and some careful movement allowed Lois and Jimmy to sneak out on an overhead walkway to an open floor below. An elaborate set-up was on display beneath them as tables were arranged for production of the Purple People Eater drug, with a bevy of kids that fluttered about working on it. Bigger, muscled kids hung out nearby, either as supervision or security.
“Jimmy,” Lois whispered, “Your cam–”
“Already on it,” he whispered back. Jimmy was behind his camera and already sped through film as he clicked away.
Lois, however, looked up. “Footsteps? Someone is up there,” she noted. Jimmy stopped taking pictures long enough to look up for a moment and so she pointed to the ceiling. “Above us,” she warned, but it wasn’t much of one.
Suddenly, the roof burst and chunks of it rained down on the drug production below – and the gantry that Lois and Jimmy were on. A hunk of ceiling splintered the walkway and the pair fell along with the debris into the chaos below.
Panic filled the warehouse and soon screams as well as the Purple People Eaters were being taken apart. Clouds of dust framed the inner ring of powder that was no doubt the drugs-in-progress that had been flung into the air, and fortunately for Lois and Jimmy there were in the surrounding ring of dust. That inner cloud was a mess of screaming gangbangers and shadowy figures, some of them suddenly twisting in awkward directions which was accompanied by sickening, very-real breaking of bones and other things.
Dazed and scraped, Lois and Jimmy scrambled away from the scene but as she looked back, Lois saw several very distinct black-clad figures, like the one from the picture Perry had shown then yesterday. “Jimmy,” she urged as she pointed out what she saw, but once again, he was already seeing it too.
“Got it,” he whispered and brought his camera up and immediately started to rapidly click away. Only, somewhere in the fall the shutter had been damaged and the flash went off. Since he took several pictures in a second, it was a strobe-light flurry of flashes before he could stop himself. “Do you think they...?!”
“Yes,” hissed Lois as she swept Jimmy behind her protectively. In an instant, six black-clad men emerged from the smoke, covered head-to-toe in concealing armor. Faceplates and goggles masked their identities, but their movements and gear easily marked them as some kind of military outfit to her. They closed in and Lois stepped forward to meet them. “Name and rank, soldier.”
The one at the point didn’t answer her with words and instead took a swing at her. Lois ducked under it easily enough. “You’d be better off being polite and just giving me answers,” she challenged as she drove a strike for his (hopefully less armored) neck.
But the man turned her blow aside and then made to deliver one of his own to her midsection. Lois, however, had seen that exact move before and had her knee up to block it. That startled the man and Lois seized the opportunity as she reached out to grab his mask. If she wasn’t going to make it out of this ruined warehouse, it wasn’t going to be without answers. “Jimmy!”
That was a call for him to run, however, Jimmy Olsen wasn’t going to leave Lois behind. He vowed yet again, “On it!” He was there behind her, with his camera up over her shoulder so that as she tore the mask off...
*FLASH!*
The sudden bright light blinded the man, a youthful and handsome man, one with strong features and rusty red hair. As he staggered there, the men that flanked around behind him cocked their heads as though listening to something that could not be heard. Rather than also engaging they surged forward, only to grab their unmasked companion and haul him away into the cloud of dust and smoke behind them. Just like that, they were gone, and the warehouse was silent save for the lingering moans of broken and bloodied Purple People Eaters.
After a long silence on his part, Jimmy swallowed. “Lois, was that...?”
“Yes,” she too swallowed. But he was dead. She had been at the funeral, yet there was no mistaking it. “That was Jerry White.”
It all happened very quickly.
The Krypton program ended suddenly and with it vanished the red sunlight filter. Natural light returned, and across the distance of the vast room they were in Superman and Zod spotted one another at near opposite ends. Before either man could do much to react, there was voice from overhead. Protocol.
“I am uncertain why this program has terminated. Compensating...you must not be allowed to work together.”
With that the floor went out from under them, quite literally, and without enough sunlight to have recharged their powers neither Kryptonian could manage flight. Thus, they fell into separate openings that were tunnels that carried Superman away from wherever Zod was being directed. He tried to reach for the walls, to try and slow or halt his descent but Superman was unable to as they were too far apart. Wherever he was headed, it was where Protocol wanted him to go...until the tunnel violently shifted and the Man of Steel found himself deposited in some vacant passageway.
“Sorry, Kal-El, for the landing. There was no opportunity to warn you.”
“Eradicator?” Superman got to his feet and looked where he was. “David, what’s happening?”
“Please, Kem-L is far more appropriate. I...I am learning what I can. I am for all intents and purposes plugged into Warworld directly, yet I am needing to do a great deal of subterfuge to remain undetected from Protocol. I was able to divert your course and already Protocol is searching for you. You will need to move.”
“What about Zod?”
“I am unable to affect enough of Warworld and remain undiscovered in what I am doing. It was a choice.”
“And I’m the one most likely to help you.” Superman nodded.
“Correct. Protocol has decided to face Zod directly, since he is the greater threat. Protocol had hoped to properly study you both, to catalogue you before elimination yet now the priority has become preservation. Zod will not be swayed from his revenge, Protocol knows this. Zod’s Biosheath is far more efficient at streamlining the Kryptonian solar absorption process. Not only is he already at near peak levels, but those surpass you by a...healthy margin. Protocol will be unable to reach Zod before the General could be terminated; this is your window of opportunity to reach me.”
“Guide me then,” Superman said as he was able to get his feet off the ground. It was a hover, but already he felt himself nearing the sensation of flight. “You sound different, like you first did when I encountered you. You distracted Protocol by sacrificing your humanity, didn’t you, Kem-L?”
“There was no other way. Protocol was tearing me apart to gain it and I would not surrender. Protocol sought to understand how I, as a machine, could integrate such aspects, to augment myself beyond intellect or mechanics. I resisted as a means to delay Protocol, until you could find me.”
“And save you,” Superman vowed. He looked forward as he could now hear how that path lead deeper, that the echo of his own voice radiated inward towards the core of this mechanical planetoid. He started as slow drift but then built steam, and soon darted forward in a streak of red and blue. “What happened to you, Kem-L? How did Protocol apprehend you?”
“So inquisitive,” the hallway intoned as Superman sped along it. “I appreciate that about you, Superman, even if I fail to fully understand it. In fact, I relied upon it, for you to find me...regardless, I was a easy capture as Protocol found me badly damaged, adrift amidst the remains of Krypton. I had returned there in hopes of finding something, but found instead a device that had sent a signal to only me, that planted the subconscious desire to return. There I was attacked, but it was an ambush and I never discovered the identity of my attacker. I barely managed to escape and, in truth, was left in a state that barely qualified as alive. Or functional.”
“Protocol was barely conscious as well, having been an incomplete program – just a portion of Brainiac’s original programming, the subroutine concerned with preserving and collecting data. Brainiac jettisoned that portion of his programming to be relieved of it, but it contained enough of his sentience to strive to endure. The ship it had been contained in crashed into Warworld by happenstance. Protocol migrated to Warworld as a means of survival, with its original ship’s systems failing, but when it discovered me it was able to...complete itself again. Instead of repairing me, Protocol found a means to achieve sentience and purpose. Armed with the knowledge and experience of how to categorically preserve life at all costs, Protocol adapted to what it copied from me. Thus, it reasoned, that the only way to protect what it was meant to survey, catalogue and store was to then remove it from existence once it had already collected that data.”
“Which means that Protocol would be compelled to complete this across all worlds, all universes. It would destroy everything,” Superman scowled as he came to a stop before a door. He had come to the end of his line.
“Until it had eradicated all life, correct. The last life Protocol would catalogue would have been itself.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Kem-L. There’s no comfort in that either, to think that is the only way that Protocol would be stopped. It can’t be allowed to go any further. It has already destroyed too many worlds.” Superman sighed as he couldn’t stop thinking of all the nightmares Eradicator had shared with him.
“Agreed,” came Kem-L’s answer, soft on compassion and now deeper in reasoning than he had been before he’d sacrificed his humanity.
Superman lowered to his feet once more. He flexed his hand and felt...good, full. Whatever sunlight he been exposed to on his venture to Warworld’s core had been enough to get him feeling more like himself again, and he suspected that Eradicator had rerouted what light was possible to get to him. Whatever Superman had managed to build up, it would have to do. He made a fist and pulled it back. “I think I’m here.”
“You are,” Eradicator answered. “Unfortunately, my efforts to inform you of what has lead to this moment must have alerted Protocol to your whereabouts and it has made preparations.”
“Give me a figure. How many drones am I about to encounter?”
“Substantial,” answered Kem-L. “Protocol will not surrender me eas–” He was cut off.
“I’m coming!” Superman drove his fist forward and the doorway that blocked him did so no longer as it exploded inward.
As it did, there was the core of Warworld, which was a massive series of columns from all directions that were bound together and where they met in the center was a spherical node. Embedded in that was Eradicator, or what remained of him at least. His left arm was gone at the shoulder as well as his right hand from the elbow down and half of his face was just gone. His legs were mangled beyond use and several holes of various sizes were punctured through his chest. Yet, what remained of Eradicator was fused to the central heart of the Warworld.
Between Superman and that was a fleet of various sized war-bots, like the ones he had fought in orbit and more. They were different in their weaponry and their design, but they were similar in one thing. They were all pointed in his direction and powering up.
Zod tightened his grip.
“I shall not leave here this day empty-handed,” snarled the General as he drove his free hand into the glowing face of Protocol again. “When I became afflicted with those accursed visions from the Eradicator, I had hoped to harness its carcass, but I would reason that Superman has left me with you to retrieve him. Therefore, I will salvage what I can from your remains!” He punched Protocol so hard that the faceplate cracked and the machine-man whined appropriately.
“With the power of the Eradicator, I would not have to bide my time, to be contained within the walls of Pokolistan! I could unlock the fullest potential of my DNA, I could change this sun and I could remake Krypton as it should be – not the perversion you subjected me to! A mirror, a shell, a lifeless husk of what it once was. Krypton was evolution, it was progression, it was the essence of life…something that you would not understand!” Zod raged as he pounded fist-after-fist into Protocol’s face.
Yet, beyond that initial crack, the machine did not break. “Your assessment is incorrect. My studies have been most conclusive in regards to the importance of evolution. Easily eliminated, organic life is unprepared to withstand the vestiges of time – only knowledge shall hold that honor.”
“You shall not find me so relenting,” barked Zod.
“Of this, I am aware. Yet, you shall succumb.” As Protocol answered, he acted and bolts of electric current whipped around his pure white frame and lanced at Zod’s armor. The charge was strong and sudden enough to stun Zod, which was all the opening that Protocol required as the machine twisted free of the Kryptonian’s grasp. “Your power is impressive, even categorically threatening, yet as flawed as all organic life is. You seek to secure your own preservation to such an extent that your body will betray your conscious mind to ensure it.” Now it was Protocol’s turn to punch the General and it was enough force that Zod was sent back into a wall.
Protocol closed the distance quickly as he flew at the rubble that Zod was pulling himself from, drove into the Kryptonian and sent them both crashing through several more corridors as they battled within the core of Warworld. Zod retaliated with a burst of heat vision, which Protocol was narrowly able to avoid and the twin beams seared through its jade cloak. The machine’s dodge brought it close to Zod and it backhanded the General down the hallway they ended up in.
“That is the last time you lay a hand on me, machine,” cursed Zod as he collected himself on the floor he found himself on. “In a moment, my armor...”
“Will be rendered inert,” cut in Protocol with its emotionless, factual tone. “When the Eradicator unit was retrieved, I was able to datamine all of its knowledge clusters. That has resulted in substantial tactical methods, schematics and weaponry system designs, a unique perspective on humanity and a complete understanding of all things Kryptonian. Your biosheath armor elevates you to a plateau of power I could not hope to contain or counter. So, I shall remove it from the equation of this conflict.” Protocol held out a hand towards Zod, which resulted in no attack, but it was a gesture. A command.
Zod used his enhanced vision to spare a look to himself and was horrified with what he found on a subatomic level. A bath of microscopic Kryptonian-style nanobots blanketed his armor, which must have been planted on him during his scuffle with Protocol. The miniature machines were designed to syphon the power from his suit, he knew – since the man that had designed them had once been his teacher. “Rao’s rage,” he seethed.
Before Protocol would spout off anything else to him, Zod flew forward with all the furry he could muster and his fists lead the way. His burst of power was impressive and Zod tore through Protocol, drove right through the machine man’s chest and kept going.
Zod raced straight through Warworld, pounding a path through the metallic planetoid in his haste to exit it. He had only moments to spare as he became a red streak that barreled toward Jupiter. Fortunately, the nanobots would be susceptible to hydrogen which the planet was comprised primarily of and so Zod raced for the gassy exterior. As he dove into the hydrogen that swirled around the planet, the miniature devices began to seize up and short out, and soon Zod left them behind in the high winds of Jupiter to race back to Warworld free of them.
As he closed in on the derelict planet, what Zod was ambushed by a swarm of Protocol’s attack drones which caused him to go into a tailspin that resulted in a crashed landing to the surface of Warworld. “Your master must still live,” Zod challenged as he got to his feet in time to face the oncoming armada of robots, much like the ones he had battled when he first came here. “If I must go through every one of you to reach that infernal machine, then so be it!”
That’s when Zod nearly lost the ground beneath his feet once more as it rumbled and then collapsed away. He took flight, prepared to attack whatever sought to attack him from below, but what he found was Superman who carried a badly damaged Eradicator. The Man of Steel looked embattled, which no doubt was due to the swarm of attack drones similar to the ones above them.
“General! It’s no use…there’s too many of them.”
“I will not retreat!” If Zod was furious before, his anger leapt in bounds in the face of his perceived cowardice from his fellow Kryptonian.
“That is impossible regardless,” answered not Superman but seemingly all of Warworld. The previous dormant head ship that Protocol had crashed into Warworld on came to life and the eyes lit up with the same jade hue that the machine’s face had been. Power hummed beneath the hovering feet of both Kryptonians as Warworld powered up and the landscape began to change. The once Brainiac-like ship took on a shape more similar to that of Protocol and the surface smoothed to an all-white that rippled, and soon more figures began to emerge. Each was a replica of Protocol and all turned their blank glowing jade faces towards the those surrounded by a bubble of attack drones, to say in a join voice. “The only escape is through deletion.”
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To Be Continued...
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