Continued from: http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/corrupted-mark-of-cain-chapter-1-1508475/#0
**
The Dragonwing sped across the sky towards England; Mark reclined in the cockpit admiring the bruise on his neck from the Sandman agent, deep and blackish. He checked it in the mirror as he held up a Polaroid camera and took a picture. The shot ejected and he shook it until the picture appeared.
“Nice!” he said as he placed it in a large book with other photos of injuries he’d incurred. Mark flicked through a couple smiling as the memories came back. He shut the book and crossed the cabin to the small purple ray pod, punching in a sequence.
“Wake me when we get within the Eurozone, or we’re attacked” he told the ship as he lay down inside the pod and adjusted his eye mask.
**
Mark awoke to the sound of the ship buzzing, nothing like a serious alert but a gentle alarm clock type sound. He stretched and yawned and got out of the purple ray pod. Physically he was refreshed but the purple ray didn’t fix memories! Every sleep he had was a variation on the day his mother and the other members of the resistance were caught and killed by the League. Though necessary, Mark didn’t enjoy sleeping.
Mark checked the flight deck “Where are we?” A screen turned on to show they were one thousand miles from England. Mark punched in some buttons pulling up various other screens “Seemingly standard Hawk patrols and patterns…take us up to the stratosphere.”
The Dragonwing begun its ascent as Mark went to the back of the ship and checked over his equipment for what he was about to do.
“Thermo suit, parachute, visor, umbrella, cash, garrotte, pistol, cyanide capsule, smoke pellets, decel cable,” Mark checked each thing off laying them down and inspecting each one “Aramilla tabs, taser, thumb tacks, dog whistle, laser pointer, chalk, chewing gum and hydrochloric acid flask”
Mark, happy with his prep check, sat in the lotus position and began a breathing technique as he cleared his mind to focus on the task at hand. And as the eyes closed, the screams echoed through his mind.
**
Zachary Zatara hovered in the lotus position in his secured room. The walls were covered in glyphs and scribbling designed to keep Superman’s prying eyes out, along with the blood pentagram designed to hide him from the helmet of Fate. Zach had done his utmost best to keep this small corner of the world free from the kryptonian. He knew he could do a better job if Clark just let him have the helmet. The whole planet would be a paradise if he was allowed access to it! It frustrated him when he saw Superman in it, like watching a chimpanzee with a brand new computer. He often contemplated taking it by force but it was the niggling doubt that if he failed, well Zachary had seen what an angry Superman did to people. Sure Firestorm would back him, maybe even Starfire but to pull off a coup d’état he’d would need Manhunter onboard at least; and that green bastard wasn’t shifting allegiances. And then there was Diana…
The wizard ran his hand across the magical dust on the floor gathering up a handful and lifting it to his lips “Wohs em eht erutuf!”
The dust swirled and danced and formed a cloud of static. Zachary’s brow furrowed, that wasn’t a good sign.
**
Mark stood on the edge of space in his suit. Nearly half a century ago a man named Felix had done a similar jump; though Felix was sponsored by an energy drink company and wasn’t doing it to potentially overthrow a dictator. It was one of the last jumps of its kind due to the fact that nobody cared if a man could fall from space to earth and survive when people bent steel with their minds, ate molten glass and moved at light speed. “Human” achievements paled when compared to even low powered superhumans and were nothing compared to Superman.
Mark checked the instruments on the suit and looked down on the planet some twenty seven miles below him; seeing the curvature of the Earth, the blackness of space just above that. He exhaled into the helmet.
“Let’s hope the blackout is on time.” he prayed as he leapt into the abyss and fell like a sonic stone breaking the sound barrier.
**
Mark landed silently upon the Tower of London and gathered his chute quickly. He had around ninety seconds until the place powered back up again which if it all went wrong, he’d probably be staring down an angry Kryptonian or Martian or Amazonian or Tamaranean; possibly all of them. But that was conjecture and IF it all went wrong; Mark had no intention of that.
He poured some hydrochloric acid into the lock as he took a stick of gum. As the acid ate through the lock he checked the time and pushed the door open, closing it and using the chewed gum to keep it “locked” in place. He surveyed the ancient stone steps that seemingly led straight down to hell.
“Three from the top,” he reminded himself as he checked his watch and poured thumb tacks across a trio of steps “Jump, don’t stop!”
Mark then took an Aramilla tab; the outlawed herb took effect quickly. It was no Velocity in terms of speed, but it would do the trick. It came on quick and he bolted down the stairs, eyes on his watch as time slowly ticked away. He skidded to halt before the bottom as he caught the sound of feathers on stone.
“What’s up with the power?”
“Do I look like an electrician?”
Mark took a deep breath, gripped his umbrella and arrived at the bottom. Before him were two Hawkmen guarding a door to Basement 101. They saw him several seconds too late due to the Aramilla coursing through his system. The umbrella spike went through the eye of the first one as the remains of the hydrochloric acid splashed across the throat of the second. Mark added several punched and kicks to finalise but it was pure overkill. He looked at his watch and up at the camera.
“Dammit!”
To be continued...
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