The Despero Intersection

PROLOGUE 1: ALWAYS READ THE FINE PRINT

Somewhere by Neptune's orbit, a small, rather depressing-looking moon was shrouded by an enormous shadow. Slowly, the gargantuan object blocking the faint light of Sol, passed a few hundred miles to a side of the lifeless rock, whose cratered surface was mute witness to the passage of the gigantic artificial construct, as it soared inexorably through the apparent nothingness of space.

"SPACE! THE FINAL FRONTIER..."

"Sir, you are shouting again."

"Oh, thank you, L-Ron," answered the tall,

ornately armored Manga Khan, head of the galactic capitalistic Conglomerate, his long, silken cape flowing behind him as he walked, absentmindedly scratching his behind. "How long was it this time?"

"A full ten minutes without talking out loud

to yourself, My Lord," answered the small robot, his mechanical voice making a very acceptable facsimile of a sigh.. "Almost half an hour without any lengthy expository monologue."

"Good. Good. I feel I am making great

progress. Hey! What was that?"

L-Ron's optical array peered at the fading

flare of light seen through a side view port while he accessed the central mainframe. "Just a primitive artifact of the Earthlings that our gravitic flux field brushed aside. A robot probe, I believe."

"Robot probe?"

"I love it when you talk dirty, my Lord."

"I can't believe it!" said a man dressed in a

garish red and yellow costume, trailing behind Manga and L-Ron as he peered at a hand span-thick printout. "And I thought Apokolipsian legalese was thick!"

"Ah! Mister Miracle!" said Khan opening his arms

in a welcoming gesture. "Shouldn't you be resting for your lengthy tour?"

"Khan! This is ridiculous!" complained Scott

Free, best known as Mister Miracle, the master escape artist. "The wordplay here makes no sense at all. Mother Box almost fainted translating it."

The living computer strapped to Mr. Miracle's

arm 'pinged' weakly in agreement, while Khan chuckled with amusement.

"Psion lawyers are indeed the best in all the

Galaxy. Devious, cold-hearted fiends. I love their work. Stopped trying to read the contracts myself years ago."

"By Highfather! According to this, a Citadel

slave or an Armaghetto Hunger Dog has more rights and benefits than I do!"

"Yes, yes, beautiful redaction indeed."

"Look, you know I'll honor my obligations, no

matter how much that idiot agent of mine shafted me, but I can't stay off-Earth this long without at least calling my Wife. And the Justice League, too."

"Long-distance calls are not covered. Sorry."

"For the Source's sake, even criminals get a

phone call!"

"Ah, but you are not even a criminal," Khan

said. "You are just Talent. BWA-HA-HAAA-HA!"

"You are laughing hysterically again, My Lord."

"Oh. Thank you again, L-Ron. Good work."

"That's why you pay me the Big Bucks, Sir."

"Khan, you know what happened the last time,"

said Mr. Miracle. "My wife and the Justice League will again come looking for me, and all hell will break loose. You have no idea how Barda gets when she's pissed. Look, just let me call and tell her that I'll be a few months late for dinner and-"

"Don't worry, Mr. Mira Culo-"

"Miracle."

"-You need not worry about your spouse and

friends," continued L-Ron. "As specified in line six of paragraph ten of page five of Clause 73a, a fully functional android duplicate has been provided to fill in for all your duties on Earth for the duration."

"A robot? You expect my wife and friends to be

fooled by a robot?"

"Worked for Elvis."

"I really, really need to change agents," Scott

muttered, looking again at the massive document. "The tie-in merchandise sucks, too. Crappy ToyFare action figures... And a Mr. Miracle all-purpose toilet brush?"

He sighed. It was going to be a long tour.

The gigantic construct continued its travel,

oblivious to the complains of the organic life inside its mammoth frame, all such concerns insignificant to its all-consuming mission of making a sizable profit.

"And just what exactly did you mean by 'fully

functional'?"

 PROLOGUE 2: LEST OL' ACQUAINTANCES BE FORGOT

The NASA probe sputtered, circuits overloading.

He knew not how long it had taken to draw the

scattered fragments of his essence back into a semblance of self. It could have been minutes or eons. To his sensory deprived consciousness, it had felt like an eternity. An eternity to nurture his hate.

Reshaping a body was a lot easier than

reassembling his mind had been. He only needed energy, and the sudden power surge of the pathetic Earthling device was enough to start the process. The power of his hate would be enough to continue.

*THERE. I CAN SENSE THEM. CLOSE, SO CLOSE.*

The objects of his hate were within reach. He

felt his body grow stronger in the knowledge.

Crackling with power, the creature's still

embryonic body sped toward the inner planets, leaving behind him the ruin of the Earthling probe.

*MY HATE MUST HAVE EXPRESSION.*

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The two baffled NASA technicians who received the probe's last transmissions minutes later, chose discretion as a career move.