As death had struck Conquest, it had only been quiet on planet Earth with the surprise Sequid attack, which had been handled by the Guardians of the Globe and Invincible. But me, I had known what it would demand and what it would mean — that the inevitable had finally arrived. It was long overdue that I headed out there and provided a helping hand in assisting the Planet of Coalitions with the Viltrumite Empire. So it meant that I would remain until Nolan and Allen showed up at the Grayson's residence to recruit Mark first and then me afterwards.
I had to bid farewell to a big group of people who I knew well—primarily my lovers, since I did not have any friends. But now that I see Carla's tower, I did not think I would be so sad bidding farewell to her. Was it because she was my first lover, who kept my feet on the ground when things got bumpy? Or because I felt bad plotting to leave her behind for Wonder Woman? It was because of both.
I knocked on Carla's door, the icy metal of the handle nothing against the palm of my hand. The war against Conquest had weakened me, no doubt, but it had also hardened me. The fighting, hurting, and winning had all blended together into something new—something better. I had learned abilities I had never imagined I could do, like the ability to read and manage emotions, and eyesight so sharp I could see a fly on the moon. But it wasn't those new abilities alone that made me invincible. It was those days—nay, days and days—of working towards the clean-up operation as well as rebuilding, giving no part of my body even a fraction of a second's rest after this battle, forcing it through its limits again and again until it had hardened but healed again and again. My stamina had also become legendary, if it wasn't already.
When I entered, she looked at me with eyes searching for answers to questions she had yet to pose. She looked tired, as if the world had weighed down on her shoulders too. She hugged me, but I felt something was amiss. There was news of recent combat with Conquest on television in the background, but her eyes darted at it. It was one of me standing side by side with Wonder Woman, in harmony with her; the both of us covered in sweat. We had looked close. Too close.
Moving in opposite directions, I saw her unspoken accusation. "Zandale," she started, her voice trembling a little, "I saw you on TV with... her." No description was required. We all knew who was intended. "Are you cheating on me?"
I was tempted, just once, to lie, to assuage the pain that I already knew was piling up in her. But I considered all that she had ever done for me—how she had stood by me in good times as in bad, despite my vile parents who had ever spurred Tyrone despite me. I owed her much more then a lie. "Carla," I explained, taking a deep breath, "it's complicated."
She held me closer, and I realized she was clinging for dear life. "Complicated?" she repeated, hurt and rage in her tone. "You're with me or you're not, Zandale. There is no in-between in a relationship."
I shook my head solemnly. "Yes, I know, Carla. That's why I'm telling you the truth. I've been with another woman."
Her eyes grew wide, and for an instant, she looked like she had been punched in the stomach. Then the fury burst forth in her eyes like a supernova. She pushed me, her hand on my chest. "How could you?" she burst out, her words laced with pain. "After all we've been through?"
The quiet that followed was oppressive. The TV behind us continued, its drone bleeding into her soft whimpering sob. I was a heel, a villain in the book I was creating, and all I could manage to do was grunt, unable to get words into focus, to get myself said. But she did not need them. She knew me better than that. She knew that when I said "it's complicated," it generally meant I had messed up.
I entered the apartment, closing the door gently behind me. I walked over to the couch and shut off the T.V. immediately. The room dropped into a silent, creepy hush, broken only by Carla's breathing. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, seeing me as a stranger.
"Is it just her? Or are there more," Carla's voice loomed in the air, weighted with infidelity and accusation. It was as though the living room was stifling, walls shutting in on me because I couldn't work it out in words. The silence was answer enough, and tears inhabited her eyes, small rockets of hurt crashing into her heart.
But the curious thing was, I did not feel at all. Or at least, not as you would think. Yes, there was a pang of guilt—a tiny piece of sorrow that I had caused her pain. But it was drowned out by something else altogether. Maybe it was my personal strength, to adapt to any situation. Maybe it was what I had learned, the strength of being able to read and control emotions. Or maybe it was simply the large number of confrontations I had seen, this perpetual adrenaline rush of risk and threat that had inured me against the emotional histrics of my own life. Whatever it was, though, it was as if my heart was not stirred in any way, an island in Carla's sea of sorrow.
"I'm sorry," I panted, eyes never leaving the otherwise-empty TV screen. It was a small word, but it seemed as though I was speaking in some unfamiliar tongue—empty, with no meaning at all.
"Sorry?" The voice was a whip snap, a chill, biting sound. "You're sorry? That's all you have to say for yourself?" She strode into the room, her fists clenched at her sides, every molecule of her body radiating outrage. "You've been stringing me along all this whole time and that's all you have to say, 'sorry'?"
I sat like a board, looking at the blank TV screen, hearing what she said but not really listening. The force of her anger washed over me, a hurricane of emotions that I could feel echoing in the same air we breathed. But I was a rock, unshifting and unchangable. Not that I did not care that she was in pain; but with how my abilities functioned and the options that I had? Her pain technically no longer registered to me. I could sense her betrayal, her loss, and her anger as a melody in my head, but it was as hearing one's tale of sorrow that I knew I could recite to my advantage.
Carla's voice had risen to a shrill, her conversation harsher, as she relived every time I had been with her, every act of self sacrifice of our love. Each of her accusings was a knife being stabbed in her own flesh, but they were no more than incidents, mere facts to be documented and analyzed in me. I felt a surge of something, a surge of the good ol Zandale, but it was at the same time bathed in cold, passionless Sovereign in which I had allowed myself to exist.
And then, when her rage had exhausted itself, and she stood before me, panting, water in her eyes, I finally discovered the words that I had sought. "I'm sorry, Carla," I told her, gently but firmly. "But it's over."
For a moment, she simply gazed at me in skeptical eyes. Then, with a yell as if it issued out of her abdomen, she rushed at me, her hand flashing. Once. Half-way across its course, superhuman instincts had me stopping her wrist before it could impact me. "I'm leaving," I told her, my grip just tight enough, "and I wish you nothing but the best. But I can't be here anymore."
Carla frantically searched for some glimmer of the man who had loved her, who she had believed as her champion. There was nothing but the cold, unforgiving gaze of Sovereign. "Why?" She inhaled, shaking. "Why must it be this way?"
I breathed deeply, my hand on her wrist releasing just a fraction. "Because, Carla," I explained, voice in hand, "I'm not Zandale anymore. I'm Sovereign. And Sovereign's life... it is not a life of settling down, of being in a normal relationship." I hesitated, weighing every word. "It's a life of chaos, of danger, of war for the future of the universe."
The unspoken reason was due to my talents of making any relationship a cheat code. I could read anybody's emotions as an open book, could have manipulated them if I wanted. It felt like playing an easy mode video game—the no challenge, the no rush. What would have cost me years of working on a relationship, I would have had in minutes using talents. And it wasn't right with her. Or me. If anything, I was doing her a solid liberating her once and for all. She deserved someone who can love her with no superabilities in effect. After everything she's done for me, she deserved the real thing. I was a villain but not a monster.
So I grasped her face with both of my hands, my grizzled palm rubbing her soft skin. "One day," I panted, staring intensely in her eyes, "One day you'll understand. You will be grateful for this. But for now, you will just have to trust me."
With one last soft kiss, I drew back, the heat of her cheek on my fingers. "You will be grateful one day, I promise you will, Carla," I panted, "One day." She stared at me, a combination of confusion and anger, but there was doubt in her eyes. Perhaps, on some visceral level, she realized the man she had loved no longer existed but instead in front of her stood a stranger with whom she was unfamiliar. Perhaps she realized I was right in leaving her in complete innocence because if I did reveal everything now, it would only make her suffer further. So she nodded, her chin trembling, and I knew it was as good as it ever would be.
I turned to leave, the converstion's weight bearing down on me. When I stepped out of her apartment, I could feel eyes on me in the hallway. These were the people who had heard the yells, heard her tears, and now watched me in silence leave her. I would not look at them, would not nod at them in recognition of whatever condemnation they would have in store for me. They did not know me—not me, not Sovereign. They did not know what I had endured, what I had fought against, what I had done. To them, I was just a man leaving a woman he had hurt. Well, perhaps some of them did compare me to Sovereign, there weren't many black men who resembled me with white hair and orange eyes.
**
I stood outside the door to the Grayson Home, knocking. Cecil had summoned me there, and I had no idea why. Was it another Angstrom Levy crisis? Another alien attack? Something else, something more personal, like this time I had to talk Mark out of doing something stupid? I didn't know, but whatever it was, I knew I had to maintain professional calm. I was Sovereign, after all.
Debbie flung open the door, her face quite expectant. I guess Cecil must have told her I was coming too. "Hello, Zandale," she exclaimed in a surprise-and-relief-laced voice. She had this way of saying my name that made me feel as if I was coming home from a long trip. "You're finally here."
"Get in, get in," Debbie panted, her face a mask of pure joy as she moved aside to let me enter. As I entered, I saw Mark, Oliver, Allen and a man I didn't know at first glance, but did at once. Tall, blue eyes, commanding presence - he was in charge. Nolan, in his Planet of the Coalition uniform. Before he'd been Omni-Man on Earth before he defected.
Oliver had also changed a lot since I last saw him. He was no longer that trembling boy weeping in his mother's arms after Angstrom Levy had taken over the Grayson House. He had widened out, muscles straining under his shirt, and his eyes had that steel hard glint that I recalled Mark always having. "Hey, little man," I smiled, stroking his hair. He rolled his eyes but could not suppress a grin on his face.
Mark, action man as ever, greeted me. "Good to see you, Sovereign," he stated, his handshake firm and tight. There was something odd with him as well—a new sense of confidence about him. "Ready for the war?"
I nodded, casting a sideways glance at Nolan. The man was studying me, his eyes calculating and gauging. "You're Nolan, I presume?" I asked, extending my hand. "Same guy who tried to take over Earth as Omni-Man."
He clasped my hand into his, his hold tight but not constricting. "The same," he said with a small smile playing across his features. "And you, I presume, are the one called Sovereign."
"At your service," I answered nodding along with the formality. We had just formed an alliance and had a war to fight waiting for us.
Techjacket peeped that I was here, eyes just a little wide as he sized me up. "Bastion Prime," he whispered, the recognition clear. "An honor to meet you."
I couldn't help but grin at that. "Well, now you can address me as Sovereign," I said with a wink. "And I have heard a great deal about you, Techjacket."
The room within moments was filled with the talk of preparations in the wake of the Viltrumite War. Nolan made suggestions, Mark spoke of his confrontations with the empire, Allen filled us in on intel at hand. It was quite serious. But within the seriousness, there was the sense of comfort that comes from being around individuals who did not have any illusions about precisely how awful things were. Individuals who understood how it was to have the world on their shoulders—or in our universe, the universe.
But in all of this talk of war and strategy, there had been something more. I'd known Nolan was hoping to woo Debbie again, but he didn't know she had moved on. That she was with me now. And when I had her alone, she filled me in. "You know Nolan apologized for what he'd done back on Earth. He wanted to right things between us." She gazed at me expectantly. "But I said no."
I raised an eyebrow. "You did?"
Debbie grinned fiercely, ferocity smoldering in her eyes. "I did," she said stubbornly. "I've moved on, Zandale. You're the one I want to be with."
Relief swept over me like a fresh breath of air. Drama with the whole Grayson family was exactly what I did not need, not when we would be going to war. "Good for you," I told her, as I tightly gripped on her fat ass. "You did just fine, Deb."
We shared a swift kiss, an implicit vow of our love to one another. Or Debbie's love to me, anyway. I knew Nolan was not going to stop after failing once. But he had no idea that no matter how many times he would try, Debbie would not cave.
**
I went to my penthouse to find Diana there lounging, as at ease as possible. She had one leg on the arm of the couch, had a sip of her wine in her hand, and was wearing my massive t-shirt, making it look a thousand times more prettier on her than it was on me. "Diana," I called, and her head came up, her face brightening at the sight of me.
Wonder Woman, or Diana as I had learned to think of her, set the glass of wine on the table and sashayed towards me, her hips swinging with an otherworldly grace which transported me back again in a flash to being fourteen years of age. She wrapped her arms around me fiercely, and our lips met in a passionate and loving kiss.
"You're off," she said to me, her voice a gentle purring in my ear. There was no sugeroating—she had felt the shift of weight on me like a change of cloaks.
"Yea," I said, embracing her. "The Viltrumite War is now on the horizon. Nolan and others need me. It's time."
Diana nodded solemnly, her eyes on me. "I know," she told me. "You have to go. We all have our battles to fight, and this is yours."
I stepped out of her hold, making my way to the gigantic walk-in wardrobe with my suits. I had been hunting, looking for something special for Diana, something that could allow her to fit in a bit more into this world. "Close your eyes," I requested of her, excitement rising in my voice as I searched through the racks.
When I had seen it, I had smiled like it was Christmas morning. It was the true Wonder Woman uniform that I'd pilfered in an alternate world—the classic reds and blues, eagle emblem fashioned in gold, lasso of truth. It had taken me weeks just finding a uniform large enough to accomodate her. She towered over me, and I loomed at 7'0. "Open your eyes," I said, showing her her uniform.
Diana's eyes widened, her lips soft with a gasp as she took in the dress. Her hands came out hesitantly, her fingers tracing over the material as if it were gold. "Zandale," she breathed, in wonder, "it's... beautiful."
"It is," I explained, attempting in futile efforts to mute the smugness in my face. "Thought it would be a good switchup rather than going with all-red."
Diana swept it off of me, holding it awkwardly to her, the material gleaming in the golden penthouse lighting. She was a goddess, her Amazonian power magnified by the now ageless costume. "I will wear it," she vowed, a glint of elation in her tone. But she had enough intelligence to know the wicked glint in my eye. "But not all the time," she added, a grin on her lips.
I laughed, hugging her around her waist. "Yes, I know, Diana," I growled low. "But I look forward to times you will." It was an iconic costume, but it was only the woman wearing it that made it tremendously spectacular. Diana rolled her eyes in pretended offense, a grin playing on her lips. "You're such a tease," she whispered, her warm breath on my neck.