JLA Watchtower (Archive)

It is difficult to spiritually cleanse a room where so many souls have passed through; some have suffered before passing the veil. He pours the fresh water into his silver bowl and mixes the salt until it becomes diluted and the water clears. This is not ordinary table salt. It was mined in a very sacred place in India. It will soak in the negative energies of the area.

There are two beds. Ms. Zukov is resting in her bed. The other one is for her brother.

"I have developed an elixir with the help of Ms. Strong that I believe will alleviate Ms. Zukov's condition. It will force the two of you into an accelerated cycle of healing. This elixir shall create a mental bridge between the two of you. As you are siblings and have similar bio-rhythmus, you will help moderate each other. You will adapt to each other’s energies. This will allow Ms. Zukov to tune her energies into less self destructive cycles, but it will for a short time cause added stress to Mr. Zukov. However, I believe you will quickly even each other out.”

Ibn pauses for a moment, checking vitals. “There is a possibility that this bridge will cause a sharing of memories or dreams. It is merely a side-effect and should cause no danger unless the two of you fight it. Are there any questions?”

His arm hurts, but feels a bit better after having been set in a cast.

His cell phone hasn't stopped ringing. The lawyers are well trained and amply excited to earn their pay. Well, I suspect the quiet is about to end now.

He ponders his future...

“Mr. Fawkes, I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Ibn al-Xu’ffasc nodded at the doorman. His name was Charlie. While he was certainly no Alfred, he did his job well and didn’t ask a lot of questions. “My trip was cut short. How’s the wife?”

“Fine. Fine. She’s been worried that you aren’t eating enough. You should come to dinner. Her sister’s in town and they loved those U2 concert tickets.”

Ibn kept himself from smiling. “Charlie, I told you that I’m not quite ready to date. Not that your sister-in-law isn’t quite attractive. . .”

“Ah don’t worry about it, Mr. Fawkes. The Missus just thinks you look like some celeb from the tabloids that’s supposed to be missing.”

Ibn raised an eyebrow. “I trust that you have clarified the matter.”

“Yes, sir, boss. I know which side of the bread is buttered. And thanks for getting Trudy into that school.”

“An education is very important.” Ibn pauses for a moment. “Have the detectives reported back to you?”

Charlie frowns. “They haven’t found her. Even with the hundred large reward.”

“Up it to five hundred thousand.”

“That’s not going to help, Boss. They just can’t find her.”

“Try anyway. And Charlie, we’re going to have large packages delivered. Things are likely going to get very lively around her.”

“Time to earn the pay then.”

Ibn flips open his cell phone and dials a number. He had been hoping he could wait for this.

The voice on the other side is gruff. “Password?”

“Alea iacta est.”* Ibn flips the phone shut. “Charlie, I have a lot of work to do.”

* Alea iacta est means the die is cast. It was said by Caesar when he was crossing the Rubicon.

It is time to leave the manor.

He has enjoyed staying here, but after his experiences, he needs chance to breathe and reflect. Ibn packs a single bag. Over the last few weeks, he has pondered much of what his father and grandfather has said to him. It is difficult for him to make choices when he has never lived in the world.

He packs the communicator his father left him and then writes a note. He leaves the note where he is certain that his father will find it.

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He walks down the steps of the manor and opens the cab door. He takes a final look around and then enters. "Downtown Gotham, please."