The Legends of Forever by Barry Lyga (free children's ebooks online .TXT) 📗

forth, vibrating through walls and stone outcroppings. The Time Trapper directed his legions to flank them, hemming them into an area around the broken sphere.

“How are you feeling?” Barry asked Wally at superspeed during a Cisco handoff.

“Kinda sporty,” Wally rejoined, and whisked Cisco away.

If they could keep Cisco out of the Time Trapper’s hands long enough for his Vibe powers to return, maybe they’d get out of this after all.

“There’s almost no gravity, so I can glide over there. I just need a push,” Superman said, pointing to Needle.

Without a word, Mick conjured a big green badminton racket, which he used to swat Superman bodily from Globe’s surface. The Man of Steel hurtled through space in a straight line, headed directly for his target. Without gravity or atmosphere, there was nothing to redirect him or slow him as he sped toward the asteroid. The Legends and the others were keeping the Trapper’s summoned foes busy, so none of them peeled off to try to intercept him.

Good thing, too. Even though he’d studied the ancient Kryptonian martial art of Klurkor—and was rated a fifth-level headband in that school of fighting—he knew he wouldn’t last long against some of the villains the Trapper had brought from the past.

With absolutely no dignity, Superman crash-landed on Needle. It hurt a lot less than it should have, thanks to the lower gravity, but he still absorbed the impact of the velocity from Heat Wave’s slap.

And while pain was not new to him, it was exotic and strange, odd enough that he felt it more than he probably should have.

No time for reflection, Clark. Get up and move.

On shaky, weakened legs, he made his way to the machine he’d broken open before. Fortunately, only the part that had held Cisco was damaged—the rest seemed to be intact and functional.

“Well, well, well,” said a horrifyingly familiar voice. “And here we are.”

Superman turned. There, standing between him and the control console he needed to access, was none other than Lex Luthor.

52

Supergirl watched through the unbreakable plexiglass as Owlman came to in a Pipeline cell. He cracked his neck this way and that, stretched his quads. As though he were in a yoga studio, not a prison.

“How long do you think it will take me to break out of here?” he asked idly.

Supergirl applauded lightly and smiled sardonically. “Well, Iris owes me ten bucks. I bet her it would take you less than five seconds after waking up to make that threat. I win. You’re getting predictable, Bruce.”

Owlman sneered. “Knowing I can get out of here won’t make it any easier for you to stop me.”

Supergirl groaned. “And now I have to give her the ten bucks back! She bet me you would say that!”

Owlman laughed and leaned against the glass. “So, you got me. Big deal.”

“If you ever want to get out of there,” Supergirl told him, “tell me what you’re up to. What were you doing with the treadmill?”

He pursed his lips, considering. “What do I get in return for an honest answer?”

Supergirl pretended to think about this. “Food and water.”

Another laugh. “You’re not going to let me starve to death in here. I’ve already got your number, lady. You’re not the kind to let me suffer.”

“You’re right about that,” Supergirl agreed, and thumbed the pad that opened the door to the Pipeline.

Iris strode in. “I, on the other hand, have absolutely no compunction about torturing you. That’s my husband in the far future whom you’re messing with. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to help him. And I don’t have to kill you to do it. I’m more than willing to let you get within spitting distance of death before I give you to a hospital to resuscitate you.” She leaned in close. “Imagine it, Bruce: Long days and nights with nothing in your belly. I bet you’ve trained most of your life to endure such a thing. But even training can’t forestall the inevitable physiological ramifications of no food or drink. Caitlin tells me it’s pretty painful. And if it goes on long enough, you’ll never fully recover. Even with good medical attention, you’ll still never really be at 100 percent again.”

He swallowed audibly, even through the glass.

“Someone like you, someone who’s spent his entire life honing his body to physical perfection . . . I bet that would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it? Knowing that you’ll never be at that peak again.”

Owlman managed a sneer. “You’re bluffing.”

Supergirl whistled. “I wouldn’t bet on that!”

“Possibly,” Iris conceded. “But imagine how much damage will happen to your body while we both wait to find out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip.

It didn’t take him long.

“OK, OK, you win. The truth is, I don’t know what I was doing at the treadmill.” He held up a hand to forestall her interruption. “I was just following orders.”

“From whom?”

He sighed and rested his forehead against the glass. “Her. Madame Xanadu.”

Iris shivered. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I’ve told you the truth all along. I wanted to save the world because I need a place to live, too. And I’ve done everything in my power to do so.”

Up until that moment, he’d been calm, placid. Now, though, his temper burst through to the surface and he pounded on the glass with both fists.

“So let me out of here! I played my part! Let me go! You can’t keep me in here forever! You have no right!”

Iris nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. Right. Your whole theory of Multiversal jurisprudence. The idea that no Earth 1 court has jurisdiction over what you did on Earth 27. I actually agree with you.”

Owlman blinked a few times, processing this revelation, looking for the catch. “So . . . you’re letting me out? I’m free to go?”

“Not so much.” Iris grinned. “We’re going to hand you over to the people who do have jurisdiction: the Earth 27 refugees. They will determine your fate.”

For the first time since meeting him, Iris beheld true fear on Owlman’s face.

Iris