"So you think I'm just going to let you leave me behind?" Stephanie Brown demanded.

Kon-El, the high-flying Superboy, rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and chewed his lower lip. Since he was about to embark on an incredibly dangerous undertaking that would lead him into the lair of, and probably face-to-face with, the cruel and insanely powerful Emperor Kal-El, Superboy had assumed that no one in their right mind would want to accompany him. Especially not a normal human being, who was significantly more vulnerable to any number of dangers than a metahuman, tactile-telekinesis-wielding clone. But Stephanie Brown, aka Spoiler, was not normal. She had no metahuman powers, but she had a heart of gold and enough backbone to have risen high in the ranks of the Resistance that braved all odds fighting for freedom on the Syndicate's world. That meant she had more than enough moxie to stand up to the Metropolis Kid. Superboy's eyes shifted pleadingly to the man standing off to his left.

"Don't look at me," Lex Luthor scoffed. "Miss Brown knows perfectly well she is not suited for this particular mission. Yet I know that she is impossible to talk to when she makes up her mind."

Superboy sighed. The trio stood atop a brownstone in Metropolis, one of the few buildings that stood relatively intact in the urban wasteland, probably because the owner paid astronomical amounts of protection money to the Syndicate to keep it that way. All around them was the ruined, rubble-strewn city that was a dark mockery of the Metropolis that Superboy had always known. Here the city was a cracked spiderweb of shadowy alleys demarcated by barbed-wire fences and burned-out, shattered structures. The thought of leaving Spoiler in the middle of that nightmare was decidedly unpleasant.

But the thought of leading her to her death was unbearable.

"Steph, look," Superboy tried again, "I couldn't have gotten this far and survived without you. You've saved my life more than once. Can't you see that's what I'm trying to do for you?"

"But …" Spoiler protested.

Superboy shook his head. "I can't guarantee that I can keep you safe if … when … Kal-El shows up. I can't even guarantee I'll be able to keep myself alive."

"Then don't go," Spoiler insisted, averting her eyes from his.

"I have to," Superboy said. "But not with you. I'm gonna go, and maybe I'll find my way back home, and maybe I won't. That's not something you should have to die for. You're gonna stay here and keep working with the Resistance. That's worth living for."

Spoiler said nothing for a long while, staring down at the tar rooftop.

"Steph …" Superboy reached out.

"Just go," she said brusquely.

Superboy turned away, grabbed Luthor by the back of his jacket, and flew off the building.

"You did the right thing," Luthor said as they soared over Metropolis.

"Stuff it, Luthor," Superboy growled. "Just tell me where we need to go."

"The Waterfront," Luthor answered. Superboy propelled them both through the air as fast as he could. Behind him, a grappling line fired from atop the relatively unmolested brownstone, and Spoiler swung away into the shadows.

The shattered facades of abandoned offices and forsaken stores gave way to the husks of old warehouses lining the waterfront of the Syndicate's Metropolis, and Luthor directed Superboy to a small, dark building near a dilapidated pier. The boxy structure was weather-beaten, but still showed some flaking chrome trim, and might have once been a chic, upscale club. A fading sign above the front door identified the establishment as "The King of Pentacles", with the namesake tarot card depicted on either side. Superboy and Luthor landed on the doorstep.

"This was once quite the social hotspot for certain anti-establishment types," Luthor explained as soon as Superboy released him. "Not really part of the Resistance per se. But for decadently wealthy individuals who wanted to flaunt their disdain for the Syndicate, it was the premier spot to see and be seen. The Syndicate allowed it to operate under their noses because they imagined it to be harmless, and if ever a public demonstration of rounding up dissidents was needed, a raid on The King of Pentacles would be like shooting the proverbial fish in a gin barrel."

"So what happened to it?" Superboy asked.

"Well," Luthor answered as he pulled open the crooked front door and led the way inside, "The owner of the club hated Emperor Kal-El with a passion, and it rankled the Emperor. He tolerated The King of Pentacles as long as he could, then one day he snapped and conducted his own personal raid. Everyone who was in the club that night escaped, except for the owner, who was apparently tortured by the Emperor personally for over a week. That would be over one-hundred and sixty-eight consecutive hours of bone-breaking, skin-flaying pain, with the Emperor never pausing to eat or to sleep. It drove Mr. Bibbowski quite insane, of course, and the club was never officially re-opened."

"Bibbowski …?" Superboy repeated, suddenly realizing why The King of Pentacles seemed to have a familiar layout. The art deco atmosphere was diametrically opposite to a wharf bar, but the floor plan was exactly the same as its counterpart back home, the Ace O'Clubs.

"Yes," Luthor nodded, oblivious to Superboy's recollections. "Truly a pity. Bibbowski was a nasty little man, but clearly no one deserves a fate such as his. But his misfortune works to our benefit in the present. You see, before Emperor Kal-El took his ultimate revenge upon Mr. Bibbowski, he had been convinced by Owlman that the nightclub belonging to his most outspoken detractor would make a perfect hiding place for an entranceway to the Fortress of Solitude. By the time his paranoid attack on the proprietor had come and gone, the Emperor had forgotten the hidden entrance existed. Other things on his mind, I suppose."

Luthor and Superboy had reached the back of the club, where a round booth covered in red velvet cushions dominated one secluded corner. Luthor felt under the lip of the table and triggered a mechanism which caused the entire booth to rise up on hydraulic lifts, revealing a small sled on rails that pointed at a downward angle into absolute darkness.

"So this is the express train to the Fortress of Solitude?" Superboy asked.

"Indeed it is," Luthor confirmed. "At least, according to our best intelligence."

"Guess that's got to be good enough," Superboy shrugged. He climbed into the sled, then extended a hand to the man standing beside it. "Thanks, Luthor. I wish I could have done more …"

Luthor shook his hand. "We all have our parts to play, Kon-El. For Miss Brown, and for myself, that is to stay here and continue to fight the good fight against the Syndicate. For you, it is to return to your home and prevent the Syndicate from invading your world. If you succeed in denying the Syndicate the spoils of another Earth, you will have done a great deal to aid the Resistance. Do not think for a nanosecond you are abandoning us."

Superboy nodded, and before any further goodbyes could be said Luthor pressed another button, causing the sled to accelerate down the rails and into the abyss.

Wild Card hit the Metropolis asphalt with a sickening thump two seconds before Steel crashed into the street's paved surface with a jarring clang. Despite the height from which both had plummeted, they were soon rising to their feet. Steel's armor had absorbed most of the brunt of impact, while Wild Card had been protected by some of the last dwindling reserves of his tactile telekinesis. A moment later the two combatants faced each other in the middle of the street, like cowboys at high noon.

"Give it up, punk," Steel admonished. "The caelusium-421 is sapping the last of your power. And I would say that I don't want to seriously hurt you, but … well, that would be a lie."

Wild Card bared his teeth like a wild animal and ran a hand through his shock of black hair. "I don't just want to seriously hurt you, you old fool," Wild Card hissed. "I want to kill you." With that the young emissary of the Syndicate launched himself at the armored Justice Leaguer and drove his right fist at Steel's head. Rather than trying to block the attack, Steel used the opening to counter-attack and swung his long-handled hammer at Wild Card's side.

Wild Card's blow landed first, and channeled all of his remaining TTK through the leading points of his knuckles. The faceplate of Steel's armor was deeply dented and punctured in two separate places. A half-second later, Steel's hammer struck Wild Card's ribs and sent the pretender Superboy tumbling across the street and slamming into a parked truck.

Steel dropped his hammer and raised both hands to his armored mask, which was closely contoured to the shape of his head. Now it had several jagged depressions digging into his face, driven inward by Wild Card's punch. Steel could feel the queasy sensation of metal scraping against bone along his forehead. He detached the helmet as quickly as he could and tossed the ruined metal aside.

No sooner had Steel wiped the blood from his eyes than Wild Card was within striking range yet again. Grinning like a maniac, the youth from an alternate world snapped a sharp left-handed jab into the bridge of Steel's nose. White flashes of pain exploded across Steel's field of vision, but he could hear Wild Card crowing, "You may have messed up my TTK, but I've messed up your armor. Without it you're just an old man, and I'm in the prime of my life. So get ready for an old-fashioned beatdown!"

The sled rode the rails through an unlit tunnel, carrying Superboy deeper and deeper underground. Bands of metal lining the tunnel soon gave way to strata of raw rock. As the sled descended, heat began to build within the small passenger compartment, and Superboy found himself sweating profusely, then verging perilously close to passing out. His fists clenched around the handholds inside the sled, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, struggling to maintain consciousness.

Suddenly, the heat increased drastically. Even with his eyes closed Superboy could tell that the sled had just emerged from darkness and into a blasting light. Guardedly, he opened his eyes.

The rails were extending through a massive cavern, easily miles in diameter. The floor of the cavern was a lake of molten lava, constantly bubbling and occasionally sending geysers of magma upward. The air in the cavern shimmered with a fiery, orange glow. In the center of the cavern, on a raised column of rock, stood a crystalline castle crowned with Kryptonian symbols. The rails led directly to the gem-like towers.

The sled passed through a small aperture in the side of the Fortress of Solitude and Superboy felt the temperature drop immediately. Apparently the Fortress was able to maintain reasonable environmental conditions, even in the center of the Earth. The sled came to a stop and Superboy climbed out. As soon as his feet touched the glossy floor, the sled began to climb back up the rails, towards the surface and the bay hidden under the corner booth in The King of Pentacles.

Superboy crossed the small rail terminal and headed for a large door. He began to mentally review the information Luthor had been able to give him about the vibrational attunement antenna for the dimensional gateway generator. Luthor had said it would most likely consist of two crossbars inlaid with receptor circuitry, and each crossbar would be at least two feet long. "Shouldn't be too hard to find," Superboy muttered to himself as he pushed open the door.

He immediately wished he could take the words back.

The room Superboy passed into was the size of a large sports arena and was filled with a myriad of trophies, memorials and scientific equipment. Alien computers lined the walls, some giant blocks of metal and wires, some softly glowing, almost organic aggregations. Battle-damaged spaceships hung suspended from the high ceiling. A suit of Kryptonian armor, equipped with dozens of weapons clearly designed to cause maximum damage and destruction, stood on a pedestal. Three statues stood in the middle of the floor, one of a triumphant Emperor Kal-El himself, the other two a woman and a man on either side, cowering at his feet, bearing a strong enough familial resemblance to be Kal-El's mother and father. Interspersed throughout were glass cases of shelves piled with spoils - swords and laser rifles, ostentatious jewelry, unearthly gizmos and gadgets, works of art that seemed to have been roughly torn from frames and pedestals.

"Great. Now what?" Superboy asked in frustration.

"Now you die," a voice behind him replied. Superboy whirled on his heels and had barely enough time to recognize Emperor Kal-El's eyes were blazing red before the heat vision scourged his body. The laser beams were even hotter than the magma-heated cavern, and forceful enough to blast Superboy across the room, where he collided with the carcass of a large predatory amphibian that had been stuffed and mounted.

Superboy immediately launched himself into the air, carrying the stuffed amphibian with him, and flew toward Kal-El. Superboy swung the base of the trophy at Kal-El's head, shattering the material into hundreds of pieces on impact. The Emperor did not even flinch. Instead, he inhaled deeply as if to sigh in disappointment, then expelled the breath in a gale-force column that swept Superboy into the opposite wall.

Shaking his head as he pulled himself out of the small impact crater, Superboy said, "Hey, believe it or not, I didn't even come here to fight. I just need your gateway antenna doohickey. What do you say? You let me go back to my world, I leave you in peace here on your world, everybody's happy."

Emperor Kal-El crossed the trophy room in a blur of motion and a split-second later Superboy's head was being crushed between Kal-El's powerful hands. "I think not," the Emperor intoned gravely. "I will not be happy until you are dead and your world trembles beneath my bootheel."

Superboy tried to answer, and tried to pull Kal-El's hands apart to free his head, and failed to do either.

John Henry Irons had never considered himself a fighter, despite his years of employment as a weapons designer. The guns he had drafted schematics for were abstractions. Violence was not a way of life for him. But after assuming the identity of Steel, and working alongside the Justice League of America, there was one thing John Henry Irons had learned to do well: throw a punch.

Steel's armored hand pounded into Wild Card's stomach, and doubled the young villain over in pain. A subsequent uppercut crashed into Wild Card's jaw, bringing a spray of blood from the emissary's lips.

Wild Card looked at Steel and wiped the blood from his mouth. When his hand came away, he was smiling sadistically. "Not bad, old timer. But not good enough, either."

Steel spied his hammer on the ground several yards away, and Wild Card followed his line of vision. "Oh, I bet you want that, don't you?" Wild Card sneered.

Steel lunged for the mallet, but Wild Card dove faster, coming up with the weapon tightly grasped in his fingers. He swung the hammer directly into Steel's chest. Steel staggered off-balance and ultimately fell to the street.

"I told you," Wild Card admonished his opponent. "With your armor offline, I'm faster and tougher and guaranteed to end your pathetic life right here."

"Armor's … not … completely … offline …" Steel responded, still lying on his back. He pointed his right hand at Wild Card's feet, and a volley of miniature explosive rockets fired from his wrist. A thunderous concussion sounded, accompanied by a cloud of black dust as the surface of the street was pulverized instantly. Somewhere in the sound and smoke, Wild Card screamed.

Steel dragged himself to his feet and made his way to the site of the explosion. It had torn through the entire street, revealing the sewer system running underneath Metropolis. Cautiously, Steel lowered himself into the hole.

He landed in knee-deep effluvium in the subterranean tunnel. Steel looked into the distance in both directions, but saw no sign of Wild Card. He was about to attempt to climb back out when the sudden sound of splashing water and gasps for breath caused him to turn around.

Wild Card emerged from under the surface of the sewage-choked water, coughing out mad barks of laughter. "Good trick, old man, good trick!" he brayed. "But how do you like this one?"

Wild Card reached out to his side and put his hand on one of the heavy pipes running along the side of the tunnel. He tore a length of the pipe free as easily as if it were tissue paper instead of reinforced metal. "Looks like the little bath you gave me washed off your special crappium-420-whatever," Wild Card scoffed. "So my TTK is coming back … and you are so dead."

Superboy struggled vainly to pry himself loose from Emperor Kal-El's hands. He lifted his legs and braced the soles of his shoes against Kal-El's chest, trying to push himself clear of the Emperor's reach. The maneuver gained him a few seconds, as Kal-El focused on pulling on Superboy's head rather than crushing it, but the deathgrip held. In desperation, Superboy kicked upwards, catching Emperor Kal-El under the chin.

The Emperor dropped Superboy and stared down at him in astonishment. Superboy could tell that, once again, he had not caused Kal-El any actual injury. But Kal-El had felt, and been deeply offended by, what the striking of his royal visage represented: opposition, defiance, things Kal-El had not encountered in a long, long time.

Scowling, Emperor Kal-El brought his fists down to smash Superboy, who barely rolled out of the way by inches. The Emperor's blow shook the entire Fortress of Solitude and echoed throughout the trophy chamber. Superboy flew to the highest reaches of the ceiling, and Kal-El flew after him, leading with his fists. Superboy made a sharp mid-air turn just as Kal-El swung through a haymaker that could have flattened a tank. Superboy flew back down again, grabbing a suspended spaceship and throwing it backwards at Kal-El as he passed it. The Emperor smashed through the hull without slowing down.

Superboy looked around the room frantically, trying to spot the crossbar shape of the vibrational attunement antenna. If he could only find it and grab it he could attempt an escape. Maybe he could stay one step ahead of the Emperor all the way from Metropolis to New Orleans and the dimensional gateway generator. Maybe the Emperor would lose interest, or send his lackeys in pursuit, whom Superboy had already beaten once. If only he could find what he had come for …

It was too late. As Superboy darted from corner to corner of the room, searching recklessly for the antenna, Emperor Kal-El became more and more enraged until he finally grabbed Superboy by the hair and yanked him close. "You annoy me, little pest," the Emperor hissed in Superboy's ear. "Or rather, you did. But no more …"

Emperor Kal-El pulled back his free hand, slowly curling the fingers into a fist. The fingers of his other hand dug excruciatingly into Superboy's scalp. Superboy summoned all of his TTK into the palms of his hands, knowing that catching Emperor Kal-El's punch before it connected with his head was his only chance of survival.

The punch never came. Without warning, the Kryptonian battle armor appeared behind the Emperor and raked his back with a buzzsaw-trident. Kal-El roared in pain and dropped Superboy, turning his attention to the battle armor. "I will deal with you momentarily, worm," the Emperor assured Superboy.

Superboy rose to his feet. "You know what?" he challenged the Emperor. "Ever since I got to this crazy, ugly, backwards world, I've been off-balance. Everything here is wrong! Even me! Since I had to question everything, I even questioned myself! And I started to believe that maybe I wasn't going to make it out of here! But I am! And you know why?"

Superboy barreled through the air, and tackled Emperor Kal-El, hollering, "BECAUSE I AM FREAKING AWESOME, THAT'S WHY!!!" Propelled by Superboy in flight, Emperor Kal-El flailed and was driven through the wall of the Fortress.

"That's what I'm talkin' about," Superboy said smugly. Once again he resumed his search for the antenna. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the Kryptonian battle armor helping him in his search, but he had no time for mysteries like that now. For more than one reason, he wished Robin were there.

Emperor Kal-El flew back in through the hole in the wall. "You will die knowing this, little one," he growled. "You no longer annoy me. You have truly earned my hatred, for defiling my sanctuary in this manner."

"Defiled? You want to see defiled?" Superboy laughed. "Check it!" Superboy reached for the floor and pulled a huge chunk of glossy white flooring free, then tossed it aside. It smashed into a super-computer in a shower of sparks. Superboy tore out another chunk, and another, and soon was tossing dark brown rock as he had ripped through all of the Fortress of Solitude's foundation.

"Stop! I command you!" Emperor Kal-El bellowed.

"Hang on, let me think about that," Superboy said, then shook his head. "Nah, I'm cool."

"You fool!" Kal-El retorted. "If you destroy the central stalagmite formation the entire Fortress will fall into the magma and be consumed in fire! Including your precious vibrational attunement antenna!"

"Don't you mean your precious vibrational attunement antenna?" Superboy asked. "Maybe that's not such a bad trade-off if it scuttles your whole invasion of my Earth plan."

With a wordless howl of rage, Emperor Kal-El threw himself at Superboy, who continued excavating. Kal-El rammed into Superboy, but bounced off a shield of TTK that kept Superboy firmly rooted to the earth. The blow was painful, but Superboy continued digging, undeterred. Kal-El returned for another divebombing punch, but once again was unable to move Superboy.

"What's it gonna be?" Superboy demanded. "You gonna rescue the antenna, give away its hiding place so we can wrestle for it? Or you gonna let me melt down your whole Fortress?"

Emperor Kal-El seethed silently, regarding Superboy with pure malice. When he finally spoke, it was in a low voice trembling with fury. "Melt it down," he stated. Without another word, Emperor Kal-El flew out of the Fortress of Solitude.

"Um … okay?" Superboy said. "That wasn't exactly what I expected."

The rumbling sound of creaking stone emanated from deep below Superboy's feet. "Right, gotta find the antenna fast now," Superboy reminded himself. Then a rain of clamor overhead began to sound. "What now?" Superboy wondered aloud.

"I believe the Emperor is trying to collapse the cavern and ensure that you do not escape the destruction of the Fortress of Solitude, either," a familiar voice answered. Superboy looked in the direction of the voice to see Luthor climbing out of the Kryptonian battle armor.

"Luthor! How did you get here?" Superboy demanded.

"The same way as you," Luthor said simply. "You sent the rocketsled back to the club, and I rode it down. I decided you should not have to face your fate alone. When I arrived you and the Emperor were too occupied with each other to notice me donning the battle armor behind you."

"Great, you can help me find the antenna … whoa!" Superboy was cut off by the entire Fortress of Solitude pitching crazily to one side, as the stalagmite beneath it began to give way while the roof of the cavern continued to crumble and pelt the structure with giant boulders. The floor became a forty-five degree angle, and trophies tumbled across it to pile up against the lowermost wall. Luthor and Superboy landed in a heap atop the broken items.

"There's no time to find the antenna, and in any case, you were right. To save your Earth, the antenna must be destroyed along with the Fortress," Luthor insisted.

"You realize that means we're going to die here, right?" Superboy asked.

"Perhaps I will," Luthor admitted. "But not you. I had long heard rumors that Emperor Kal-El possessed a projector which could transport an individual to one and only one dimension, a place called the Phantom Zone. It would be a simple matter for a genius such as myself to enhance it in such a way as to send you home."

"Groovy. Where do we find it?" Superboy asked.

"I already did," Luthor said as he pointed up the sloping floor of the room. "It's in the hand of the battle armor." Superboy looked and saw the battle armor balanced atop the statues of Kal-El and his terrified parents, still secured in the middle of the floor.

"Be right back," Superboy said. He flew up toward the statues and stretched out his hand toward the prize in the glove of the battle armor. The Fortress shifted again, dipping the floor even more steeply. The battle armor became dislodged from the statues and plummeted toward the rest of the trophies, but not before Superboy snatched the Phantom Zone projector away from its inert hand. The armor crashed noisily as Superboy flew back down to Luthor.

Luthor took the projector and opened its casing, quickly disconnecting and reconnecting wires. All around, the Fortress groaned with its unbalanced weight.

Finally Luthor finished and aimed the modified projector at Superboy. "Luthor, come with me," Superboy blurted out. "We'll figure out a way to get you from my world back here, I mean not right back here, but someplace safe on the surface …"

Luthor shook his head. "The projector requires an operator, so I cannot turn it on myself. You have a world to return to. Stephanie will lead the Resistance. My story ends here. I will have to be proud of what I did to help, and enjoy the destruction of Kal-El's sanctuary."

"You're an all right guy, Lex," Superboy said, as a beam of purple light enveloped him, blurring out all the details of the trophy room. Superboy felt a slight tingle, and then nothing at all.

For the second time in less than five minutes, a section of Metropolis roadway exploded. This time, however, the explosion came from underground, and was caused by the armor of Steel bursting through the street, having been thrown by Wild Card. Steel arced through the air and landed on the sidewalk painfully. All of his armor was severely damaged, and his exposed skin was raw and bloodied.

Wild Card emerged from the hole in the street a moment later, cackling. He landed next to a parked car, lifted it overhead, and tossed it toward Steel. The car smashed into the ground a few feet from the armored Justice Leaguer. Wild Card hefted another car and lobbed it, followed by another. Both missed, but Wild Card was merely toying with his disadvantaged foe.

"Excuse me, but you're doing some serious property damage to this fair city," Superboy announced his arrival, "and this city is under MY protection."

Wild Card reeled around, stunned to find Superboy hovering a few feet above the street. "YOU! You … how … you should be dead!" the emissary sputtered.

"Yeah, gotta tell you, I'm really sick of people telling me I need to be dead," Superboy shrugged. Then he dropped to the street directly in front of Wild Card and backhanded his evil doppelganger.

Wild Card flew backwards from the force of the blow and smacked into a traffic light, bending the pole in half. He recovered and threw himself at Superboy, who met him halfway in mid-air. The two powerhouses flew upwards, spiraling around each other, trading blows ferociously. Their shared whirlwind of violence rose so high that it became impossible to see them from the ground.

Therefore, when the special detachment of vans and trucks from the Metropolis SCU, backed up by S.T.A.R. Labs, arrived on the scene moments later, and asked Steel where the metahumans had gone, Steel could only reply, "I don't know."

Fortunately, no one had to wait long for an answer. Like a red and blue comet, a shape streaked down from the heavens and came to rest in an amazingly light landing. The shape consisted of two figures: Superboy, slightly scuffed, holding the belt of a thoroughly beaten and unconscious Wild Card.

"Take him away, boys," Superboy said. Several SCU agents carried Wild Card to a special S.T.A.R. Labs vehicle, essentially a mobile power-dampening cell.

Superboy crouched down by Steel, who was being tended to by paramedics. "You ok, buddy?" the kid asked.

"Been better," Steel admitted. "But I'm glad you got that little psycho."

"Yeah, it was different this time," Superboy said. "He was less powerful, like his powers had been turned off and hadn't fully recharged. I suppose I have you to thank for that?"

"You could say that," Steel acknowledged.

"All right, well, thanks, then," Superboy grinned.

Steel gave him a weak but heartfelt thumbs-up. "Welcome home, Kon."

THE END