Justice League Unlimited: Speak of the Devil
Posted: 2007-03-25 12:26pm
Here's a little fun something for fans of the DCAU and Vertigo Comics:
Disclaimer: Batman created by Bob Kane. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Wonder Woman created by William Moulton Marston. Lucifer and the Sandman created by Neil Gaiman and Sam Keith. Zauriel created by Grant Morrison and Howard Porter. All are owned and operated by DC/Vertigo Comics. I own the story and any original characters/species/locales. No copyright infringement is intended.
Justice League Unlimited: Speak of the Devil
Synopsis: One shot; a surprising spectator bears witness to the beginning of the Cadmus War.
Historian’s Note: In the DC Animated Universe timeline, this story is during the fourth-season JLU episode “Question Authority.” In the Sandman timeline, this story is set prior to the events of the mini-series Lucifer: The Morningstar Option.
***
“What are you talking about? Humanity doesn’t need protection from us!”
Beneath his bulletproof exterior and familiar, almost archetypal costume, the Last Son of Krypton was raging. Professor Emil Hamilton’s presence here in Cadmus Headquarters itself spoke volumes. Suddenly, many pieces of the shadowy puzzle from the last year finally made sense. Kara’s supposedly destroyed DNA samples. The creation of the young woman Galatea. Cadmus’s ability to overcome the problems Luthor had had with Bizzaro in cloning Kryptonian DNA. The theft of the Kryptonite from S.T.A.R. Labs. The Lexor City incident.
All were the work of Cadmus, all threads in the tapestry that comprised their campaign against the Justice League. But only now did he see who had served as one of the tailors and how he had directed and shaped the path of one of the needles.
For his part, Hamilton appeared almost nonchalant. Or rather, he was cool and controlled. Yet Superman’s abilities allowed him to hear the rapidly increasing heart rate, to physically see the adrenaline being secreted by his adrenal medulla and released into his bloodstream. As on that climatic day in S.T.A.R. Labs five years earlier, Hamilton was afraid of the Man of Steel.
“I used to believe that,” he replied, his tone a mixture of wistfulness and regret. “I thought you were a guardian angel come to answer our prayers. He paused, his eyes focusing on Superman with a glint of menace. “But Lucifer was an angel too, wasn’t he?”
Superman lay silent for a moment, pondering how to respond to the Professor’s charge. He hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth –
-- and as he did, the jaw seemed to freeze in position. Neither the Kryptonian nor the human displayed any hint of movement. It was if time had slowed to a crawl and ceased to exist.
“I was more of a pawn, for the record, but the logistics are essentially correct,” came a voice from across the room. The owner of the voice framed within the shattered wall that the Man of Steel had been responsible for. Behind him, the Cadmus security personnel, still battling Helena Bertinelli AKA the Huntress, were also frozen in time. The owner of the voice was a being of medium build, but good height. He was cloaked in a fine, sleek suit as black as obsidian. Shortly cut, yet wavy blonde hair with a tint of red graced his head, a head that housed an aristocratic countenance. His right hand clasped a goblet of fine crystal laced with gold. The chalice’s rich burgundy liquid lapped and sloshed at the sides of the chalice as its bearer moved closer to inspect the mortal and the alien. His piercing, striking yellow eyes belied contempt with a touch of quiet amusement, an emotion that was also etched into a thin smile.
He finally reached the Man of Steel and stopped. For a moment he satisfied himself with a profile examination, then stepped between the two figures and with great scrutiny, surveyed Superman from chin to bottom. His smile widened ever so slightly.
“But then again,” he said, “you know all too well the ‘benefits’ of serving as a cat’s-paw, don’t you? Such comes from having a Lord of Apokolips as your teacher.”
There was no answer to the query and he didn’t expect one. Or rather, the being did not expect one from that came from the direction of the gaping hole in the wall he had just entered.
“What are you doing here, Morningstar?”
The command had come from a man of both medium build and height. It was hard to decide which aspect of this individual appearance stood out the most. Perhaps it was his pallor nature of his skin, or the soft red eyes or the polished, rich sheen of the intricate armor and homespun tunic that adorned his frame. Perhaps it was the fearsome sword sheathed at his side or even the wings on his bag, majestic and grand but tense, ready to obey the commands of their wielder. The recipient of the Angel’s command smiled slightly at his entrance, but it was a cold smile.
“Zauriel. If I had known a member of the Eagle Host would be viewing the proceedings, I’d have brought the entire bottle of Château Haut-Brion 1959 with me,” replied Lucifer Morningstar, formerly Samael of the Silver City and the former ruler of Hell, now proprietor of L.A.’s hottest night club, Lux. The angel known as Zauriel simply starred at him, his arms folded across his chest.
“I find your tone mocking and disrespectful, Morningstar, especially,” he gestured around in, “in such surroundings and circumstances.”
“Hmm. It certainly is momentous, after all. I don’t need Destiny’s book or Meleos’ creations to know that this may be the final prelude to a war the likes of which this planet hasn’t seen in millennia.”
“If memory serves, you were responsible for the last such conflict,” Zauriel replied dryly, but like the Morningstar, without any true humor. Lucifer shrugged in turn.
“Believe what you want. History is written by the victors and is so often distorted to fit a certain viewpoint.”
“You didn’t answer my earlier question.”
Lucifer sighed at Zauriel’s sidestepping of his little point on historical revisionism. Millennia later and his brothers were still unwilling to even consider the possibility that he had been right to rebel against Father and his Plan. Zauriel still stood at attention and from his robe, produced a parchment scroll, unfolded it, and looked it over, though he kept an eye on the Morningstar.
“Your presence here,” Zauriel continued, reading from whatever orders he had been given from his superiors on high “constitutes a violation of the—”
“And here I thought you were worried that my little establishment would not survive but an hour without its proprietor,” Lucifer interrupted. “I’m actually rather curious to see my assistant strike a chord with the cocktail lounge piano, though,” he said, with a slight hint of mischievousness about him. It was partially genuine, but more so for the purpose of making his ‘guardian angel’ uncomfortable.
It worked. Zauriel stiffened slightly and with good reason. It made no difference to him that the Morningstar’s consort, Mazikeen, was no longer directly allied with the Lilim-in-Exile. All members of the Host held a degree of disdain for their distant cousins – or rather, those fathered by the late Ibriel, anyway.
“If it’s detection your worried about, we are between the seconds and even he,” said Lucifer, pointing his long finger to the Man of Steel, “cannot hear or see what transpires here. I’m here to observe, nothing more. I’m simply taking a stroll, Zauriel, nothing more.”
Zauriel gave him the angelic equivalent of cocking an eyebrow. Lucifer sighed in the manner of a parent attempting to instruct an ignorant child.
“What benefit is there for me to interfere here? I’m retired, angel. I have mine wine, my club, and freedom. If you wish to make an issue of divine interference, then I believe Ares is owed a visit,” Lucifer replied, making reference to the Greek God of War’s little involvement in the Kasnian Civil War the previous year.
“Whether or not Ares is dealt with is not your or mine concern. If he is to be dealt with, it is willed by the Father and the Plan. I am here to escort you from the premises for the good of all involved lest something...unfortunate happen.”
Lucifer continued to stare for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Zauriel was no lightweight and was of the best-trained of the Eagle Host. He would have to be with Asmodel as his commander. He could take him should a need arise. But there was no need. He really had no intention of interfering in what would likely be termed the Cadmus War. He observed of course; it was his nature. He had kept tabs on the players, knew what scheme Luthor had planned and had a fair idea as to how this would all turn out.
No, he’d simply wished to gauge the playing field and, naturally, see if a slight advantage could be gained against Father here in some way. There had been none, of course. But an advantage would arise soon. It might take some more time, but it would. There had to be a loophole in the Plan that he could seize upon, proof that the perfect model of Yahweh was imperfect. After all, was he not living proof of that?
“Fine, I was finishing up as it was.”
The Morningstar raised his arms up and the walls of the Cadmus bunker dissolved away into blackness. As their surroundings faded, Lucifer could not help but hear the resumption of the argument between the former allies.
“Professor I—”
“You forget, I’ve been on the receiving end of your wrath when you brought Supergirl to S.T.A.R. Labs for medical treatment. I know what you’re capable of.
“That’s what this is all about? One little scare and you betray us? You stole Kara’s DNA, violated her trust. My trust. ”
“The chicken or the egg, Superman.”
The blackness pulsed and seethed, transforming a moment later in the quiet, modest trappings of a cocktail lounge. This was the fabled Lux, the pride of downtown Los Angeles, California and the retirement home of Hell’s former Lord and Master. Lucifer had ordered the business to close early and the club was devoid of any life save for a moment standing at attention near the bar. She was a beautiful specimen, fine skin, sleek hair. Her most striking feature was an ivory, intricately adorned mask who cloaked half her face. Lucifer noted with genuine amusement that the angel was starring away from his Lilim consort.
“There, here we are,” Lucifer said, lowering his arms. “If you stay for a moment, I can have Mazikeen fetch two glasses and a bottle of Janneau Armagnac 1929.”
“Do not try my patience any further, Morningstar,” Zauriel replied and turned. “If you attempt to return near Cadmus or interfere in anyway, the Host will step in and stop you no matter the cost.”
Lucifer pitied the angel’s inability to explore the finer points of alcohol consumption, but supposed it was not Zauriel’s fault. Indeed, if the angels Bartleby and Loki hadn’t been such buffoons after the last of the Ten Plagues…
“I won’t, Zauriel. You have my word.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this?”
Lucifer grinned, genuine bemusement etched in his face.
“Hasn’t anyone told you, Zauriel, that the Devil always keeps his word?”
***
The End
***
Author’s Notes
* The incident with Bartleby and Loki is of course a reference to Kevin Smith’s film Dogma.
DCAU Episodes Referenced
STAS – Identity Crisis, Legacy
JLU – Fearful Symmetry, Ultimatum, The Clash
Disclaimer: Batman created by Bob Kane. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Wonder Woman created by William Moulton Marston. Lucifer and the Sandman created by Neil Gaiman and Sam Keith. Zauriel created by Grant Morrison and Howard Porter. All are owned and operated by DC/Vertigo Comics. I own the story and any original characters/species/locales. No copyright infringement is intended.
Justice League Unlimited: Speak of the Devil
Synopsis: One shot; a surprising spectator bears witness to the beginning of the Cadmus War.
Historian’s Note: In the DC Animated Universe timeline, this story is during the fourth-season JLU episode “Question Authority.” In the Sandman timeline, this story is set prior to the events of the mini-series Lucifer: The Morningstar Option.
***
“What are you talking about? Humanity doesn’t need protection from us!”
Beneath his bulletproof exterior and familiar, almost archetypal costume, the Last Son of Krypton was raging. Professor Emil Hamilton’s presence here in Cadmus Headquarters itself spoke volumes. Suddenly, many pieces of the shadowy puzzle from the last year finally made sense. Kara’s supposedly destroyed DNA samples. The creation of the young woman Galatea. Cadmus’s ability to overcome the problems Luthor had had with Bizzaro in cloning Kryptonian DNA. The theft of the Kryptonite from S.T.A.R. Labs. The Lexor City incident.
All were the work of Cadmus, all threads in the tapestry that comprised their campaign against the Justice League. But only now did he see who had served as one of the tailors and how he had directed and shaped the path of one of the needles.
For his part, Hamilton appeared almost nonchalant. Or rather, he was cool and controlled. Yet Superman’s abilities allowed him to hear the rapidly increasing heart rate, to physically see the adrenaline being secreted by his adrenal medulla and released into his bloodstream. As on that climatic day in S.T.A.R. Labs five years earlier, Hamilton was afraid of the Man of Steel.
“I used to believe that,” he replied, his tone a mixture of wistfulness and regret. “I thought you were a guardian angel come to answer our prayers. He paused, his eyes focusing on Superman with a glint of menace. “But Lucifer was an angel too, wasn’t he?”
Superman lay silent for a moment, pondering how to respond to the Professor’s charge. He hesitated for a moment, opened his mouth –
-- and as he did, the jaw seemed to freeze in position. Neither the Kryptonian nor the human displayed any hint of movement. It was if time had slowed to a crawl and ceased to exist.
“I was more of a pawn, for the record, but the logistics are essentially correct,” came a voice from across the room. The owner of the voice framed within the shattered wall that the Man of Steel had been responsible for. Behind him, the Cadmus security personnel, still battling Helena Bertinelli AKA the Huntress, were also frozen in time. The owner of the voice was a being of medium build, but good height. He was cloaked in a fine, sleek suit as black as obsidian. Shortly cut, yet wavy blonde hair with a tint of red graced his head, a head that housed an aristocratic countenance. His right hand clasped a goblet of fine crystal laced with gold. The chalice’s rich burgundy liquid lapped and sloshed at the sides of the chalice as its bearer moved closer to inspect the mortal and the alien. His piercing, striking yellow eyes belied contempt with a touch of quiet amusement, an emotion that was also etched into a thin smile.
He finally reached the Man of Steel and stopped. For a moment he satisfied himself with a profile examination, then stepped between the two figures and with great scrutiny, surveyed Superman from chin to bottom. His smile widened ever so slightly.
“But then again,” he said, “you know all too well the ‘benefits’ of serving as a cat’s-paw, don’t you? Such comes from having a Lord of Apokolips as your teacher.”
There was no answer to the query and he didn’t expect one. Or rather, the being did not expect one from that came from the direction of the gaping hole in the wall he had just entered.
“What are you doing here, Morningstar?”
The command had come from a man of both medium build and height. It was hard to decide which aspect of this individual appearance stood out the most. Perhaps it was his pallor nature of his skin, or the soft red eyes or the polished, rich sheen of the intricate armor and homespun tunic that adorned his frame. Perhaps it was the fearsome sword sheathed at his side or even the wings on his bag, majestic and grand but tense, ready to obey the commands of their wielder. The recipient of the Angel’s command smiled slightly at his entrance, but it was a cold smile.
“Zauriel. If I had known a member of the Eagle Host would be viewing the proceedings, I’d have brought the entire bottle of Château Haut-Brion 1959 with me,” replied Lucifer Morningstar, formerly Samael of the Silver City and the former ruler of Hell, now proprietor of L.A.’s hottest night club, Lux. The angel known as Zauriel simply starred at him, his arms folded across his chest.
“I find your tone mocking and disrespectful, Morningstar, especially,” he gestured around in, “in such surroundings and circumstances.”
“Hmm. It certainly is momentous, after all. I don’t need Destiny’s book or Meleos’ creations to know that this may be the final prelude to a war the likes of which this planet hasn’t seen in millennia.”
“If memory serves, you were responsible for the last such conflict,” Zauriel replied dryly, but like the Morningstar, without any true humor. Lucifer shrugged in turn.
“Believe what you want. History is written by the victors and is so often distorted to fit a certain viewpoint.”
“You didn’t answer my earlier question.”
Lucifer sighed at Zauriel’s sidestepping of his little point on historical revisionism. Millennia later and his brothers were still unwilling to even consider the possibility that he had been right to rebel against Father and his Plan. Zauriel still stood at attention and from his robe, produced a parchment scroll, unfolded it, and looked it over, though he kept an eye on the Morningstar.
“Your presence here,” Zauriel continued, reading from whatever orders he had been given from his superiors on high “constitutes a violation of the—”
“And here I thought you were worried that my little establishment would not survive but an hour without its proprietor,” Lucifer interrupted. “I’m actually rather curious to see my assistant strike a chord with the cocktail lounge piano, though,” he said, with a slight hint of mischievousness about him. It was partially genuine, but more so for the purpose of making his ‘guardian angel’ uncomfortable.
It worked. Zauriel stiffened slightly and with good reason. It made no difference to him that the Morningstar’s consort, Mazikeen, was no longer directly allied with the Lilim-in-Exile. All members of the Host held a degree of disdain for their distant cousins – or rather, those fathered by the late Ibriel, anyway.
“If it’s detection your worried about, we are between the seconds and even he,” said Lucifer, pointing his long finger to the Man of Steel, “cannot hear or see what transpires here. I’m here to observe, nothing more. I’m simply taking a stroll, Zauriel, nothing more.”
Zauriel gave him the angelic equivalent of cocking an eyebrow. Lucifer sighed in the manner of a parent attempting to instruct an ignorant child.
“What benefit is there for me to interfere here? I’m retired, angel. I have mine wine, my club, and freedom. If you wish to make an issue of divine interference, then I believe Ares is owed a visit,” Lucifer replied, making reference to the Greek God of War’s little involvement in the Kasnian Civil War the previous year.
“Whether or not Ares is dealt with is not your or mine concern. If he is to be dealt with, it is willed by the Father and the Plan. I am here to escort you from the premises for the good of all involved lest something...unfortunate happen.”
Lucifer continued to stare for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Zauriel was no lightweight and was of the best-trained of the Eagle Host. He would have to be with Asmodel as his commander. He could take him should a need arise. But there was no need. He really had no intention of interfering in what would likely be termed the Cadmus War. He observed of course; it was his nature. He had kept tabs on the players, knew what scheme Luthor had planned and had a fair idea as to how this would all turn out.
No, he’d simply wished to gauge the playing field and, naturally, see if a slight advantage could be gained against Father here in some way. There had been none, of course. But an advantage would arise soon. It might take some more time, but it would. There had to be a loophole in the Plan that he could seize upon, proof that the perfect model of Yahweh was imperfect. After all, was he not living proof of that?
“Fine, I was finishing up as it was.”
The Morningstar raised his arms up and the walls of the Cadmus bunker dissolved away into blackness. As their surroundings faded, Lucifer could not help but hear the resumption of the argument between the former allies.
“Professor I—”
“You forget, I’ve been on the receiving end of your wrath when you brought Supergirl to S.T.A.R. Labs for medical treatment. I know what you’re capable of.
“That’s what this is all about? One little scare and you betray us? You stole Kara’s DNA, violated her trust. My trust. ”
“The chicken or the egg, Superman.”
The blackness pulsed and seethed, transforming a moment later in the quiet, modest trappings of a cocktail lounge. This was the fabled Lux, the pride of downtown Los Angeles, California and the retirement home of Hell’s former Lord and Master. Lucifer had ordered the business to close early and the club was devoid of any life save for a moment standing at attention near the bar. She was a beautiful specimen, fine skin, sleek hair. Her most striking feature was an ivory, intricately adorned mask who cloaked half her face. Lucifer noted with genuine amusement that the angel was starring away from his Lilim consort.
“There, here we are,” Lucifer said, lowering his arms. “If you stay for a moment, I can have Mazikeen fetch two glasses and a bottle of Janneau Armagnac 1929.”
“Do not try my patience any further, Morningstar,” Zauriel replied and turned. “If you attempt to return near Cadmus or interfere in anyway, the Host will step in and stop you no matter the cost.”
Lucifer pitied the angel’s inability to explore the finer points of alcohol consumption, but supposed it was not Zauriel’s fault. Indeed, if the angels Bartleby and Loki hadn’t been such buffoons after the last of the Ten Plagues…
“I won’t, Zauriel. You have my word.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this?”
Lucifer grinned, genuine bemusement etched in his face.
“Hasn’t anyone told you, Zauriel, that the Devil always keeps his word?”
***
The End
***
Author’s Notes
* The incident with Bartleby and Loki is of course a reference to Kevin Smith’s film Dogma.
DCAU Episodes Referenced
STAS – Identity Crisis, Legacy
JLU – Fearful Symmetry, Ultimatum, The Clash
.
