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Ch-9 Arsenal Rising
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 11:19:34 +0000 UTCABANDONED OBSERVATORY --- JUNE 22, 06:17 EDT
Pre-dawn light filtered through the cracked dome ceiling as Raj Bansal checked the stasis pod's control panel. The blue glow highlighted the premature white streak in his black hair---evidence of his dimensional abilities' energy cost.
In the quiet of his mind, the vast cosmic library stirred. Above endless rows of knowledge, colored stars drifted across a mental night sky. At the center, the old stone pedestal waited. Raj brushed past the stars with a thought, releasing Stealth Field—its silver glow lifting back into the sky—and pulled down Bio-Interface, a steady blue star, slotting it into place.
The shift rippled through him. His eyes flickered with the telltale blue light of his active power, carefully monitoring the complex biofeedback. Now, he didn't just see the corrupted implants; he felt the broken signals fighting to complete themselves.
The observatory, once abandoned, now hummed with advanced technology far beyond Earth-16's capabilities—servers lined the walls, security systems monitored the perimeter, and specialized equipment filled what had once been empty space. Raj's dimensional abilities had allowed him to transform this forgotten place into a sanctuary in mere weeks.
After twenty-three days of monitoring, Roy Harper's vital signs had finally stabilized. Brain activity normalizing, muscle tone improving despite atrophy, and the crude CADMUS tech grafted to his right arm still pulsing red on scans.
"Today's the day," Raj muttered, running fingers through his disheveled hair. "And it's not going to be pretty."
He initiated the revival protocol with six keystrokes, fingers working with instinctive precision. Adjusting the stasis systems felt more like mending nerves than operating tech. The stasis field shifted from blue to amber as the temperature regulation systems began warming. Condensation beaded on the transparent canopy, obscuring Roy's face.
Raj glanced at the second pod where Match—Superman's unstable clone—remained in deep stasis. The rescue from Cadmus had been risky; unlike Superboy who had been relatively stable, Match had shown immediate signs of genetic degradation upon removal from their systems. One rescue at a time.
The pod hissed open, releasing frigid vapor. Roy jolted awake with a violent gasp, chest heaving and eyes wide with terror. In a feral motion defying his weakened state, he tore free of the medical restraint and swung wildly at Raj.
"WHERE AM I? WHO ARE YOU?" Roy screamed, voice ragged from disuse.
"You're safe! You're not in CADMUS anymore!" Raj shouted back, hands raised. "My name is Raj. I got you out of there."
Roy backed against the wall, panting heavily. His gaze swept the observatory before landing on what remained of his right arm—a stump ending just below the elbow, sealed with CADMUS's crude efficiency.
"My arm..." His voice cracked. Then louder: "What did they DO to me?"
The scream that followed wasn't human—raw and wounded, the sound of someone discovering part of themselves had been stolen.
"I got you out, Roy," Raj said when the scream subsided. "You're not a prisoner anymore."
Roy slid down the wall, his remaining hand clutching the stump. "How long?" he rasped.
"Three years."
Roy's face registered disbelief, horror, and finally crushing betrayal. "Green Arrow... he would've found me."
When Raj didn't answer, Roy squeezed his eyes shut. "He stopped looking," he concluded, the words falling like stones.
Outside, the sun crested the horizon, casting long beams through the windows. A new day was beginning, but for Roy Harper, a long night was just unfolding.
ABANDONED OBSERVATORY --- JULY 3, 22:38 EDT
"YOU LIED TO ME!"
The metal tray clattered against the wall, medical supplies scattering. Roy stood in the center of the room, chest heaving, eyes wild with fresh betrayal.
Raj remained by the console, unmoving. Quietly, the mental library stirred again—stars wheeling overhead in his mind. He dismissed Light Shaping, the golden star lifting gently back into the night, and drew down Kinetic Absorption, a deep red glow locking into the pedestal.
The change was immediate. His frame subtly densified, tuned to absorb impact. Holographic displays showed ongoing monitoring of multiple Justice League communications—a necessary precaution given that ARGUS had already flagged his arrival as a potential threat.
"I told you what I knew," Raj replied calmly from his position at the computer terminal.
"You said he replaced me!" Roy grabbed a water glass and hurled it across the room. "You didn't say he CLONED me!"
"I told you about the clone on the second day," Raj reminded him. "When you were ready to hear it."
"READY?" Roy laughed harshly. "I woke up missing an ARM. When exactly was I supposed to be READY to learn that Green Arrow's been training my replacement?"
"The clone doesn't know," Raj said. "He believes he's the original Roy Harper. CADMUS programmed him with your memories. He's as much a victim as you are."
"Don't you DARE compare us!" Roy snarled, advancing on Raj. "He's living MY life while I rotted in a pod!"
Roy's fist crashed into Raj's jaw. The energy of the punch simply bled away into him, absorbed by his active power. His Invictus perk kept his resolve unshaken.
"Fight back," Roy demanded, voice cracking. "FIGHT BACK!"
"No," Raj said quietly, tasting blood. "I'm not your enemy, Roy."
"EVERYONE is my enemy!" Roy shouted, though the words lacked conviction.
Later, Raj produced a small device resembling a high-tech wristwatch. "It's a neurotransmitter," he explained. "The first step toward a functional prosthetic."
"You just happen to know how to build prosthetic limbs?" Roy asked skeptically.
"My dimensional perception gives me access to technological innovations across multiple realities," Raj explained, his eyes briefly glowing blue. "I can see designs that haven't been discovered here yet."
"This is just the beginning," Raj continued. "The prosthetic itself will take more time to fabricate, but this starts the process of teaching your brain to communicate with an artificial limb."
Roy hesitated, then extended his left arm. "Fine. Show me how it works."
"Think of it as re-establishing a connection that CADMUS severed," Raj said as he secured the device. "Your brain still sends the signals. We're just giving them somewhere to go."
"Will I ever feel normal again?" Roy asked suddenly.
"No," Raj said honestly. "But you'll find a new normal."
Roy nodded once. "When will the actual arm be ready?"
"A week, maybe two."
"Then I better get used to this thing," Roy said, determination hardening. "And when the arm is ready, I want a bow. A real one."
ABANDONED OBSERVATORY --- JULY 20, 10:17 EDT
Sunlight streamed into the makeshift laboratory. Roy stood tense, struggling with the new prosthetic arm attached to his stump.
"This is GARBAGE!" Roy shouted, tearing the prototype from his stump and hurling it across the laboratory.
In the background of Raj's mind, the library responded—stars moving slowly across the mental sky. He let Kinetic Absorption drift upward and pulled down Precision Sync, a violet star thrumming with fine-tuned focus. The shift tightened his awareness.
"It's a first iteration," Raj replied calmly, retrieving the damaged prosthetic. "Adaptation takes time."
"I don't HAVE time!" Roy paced like a caged animal. "You promised me a functional arm!"
"I promised I would build one," Raj corrected. "I never said the first version would be perfect."
Three days had passed since Raj completed the prototype. The technical aspects worked well—the neurotransmitter successfully picked up Roy's intended movements—but Raj hadn't fully anticipated the psychological adjustment required.
Now Raj didn't just observe Roy's difficulties; he sensed the tension misaligning, the lag between command and execution.
"The neural connections are still forming," Raj explained, examining the damage. His fingers glowed faintly with blue energy as he activated his active power, instantaneously diagnosing the faults in the prosthetic.
Outside the observatory window, a small drone momentarily hovered before Raj's security systems detected it and activated countermeasures. The white streak in his hair had grown slightly wider in the past weeks—the energy cost of maintaining his vigilance against ARGUS surveillance while working on both Roy's rehabilitation and Match's stabilization.
"My brain is fine," Roy growled. "It's this junk that's the problem."
Raj faced Roy directly. "I need you to understand something: there is no miracle cure. Even with the most advanced technology I can build, you will never have the exact same capabilities you had before. It will be different. Not necessarily worse, but different."
Roy drew a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Show me again," he said finally, voice tight but controlled. "The calibration sequence."
Raj reattached the prototype. "Let's start with basic movements. Focus on opening and closing your hand."
Roy closed his eyes, concentrating. The mechanical fingers twitched, then slowly curled inward.
"Loosen your fingers. Half a degree," Raj instructed quietly, extending a faint stabilizing field through his power—subtle nudges, not overt control.
Roy adjusted. The prosthetic responded with less twitching.
They worked for hours, Roy's frustration gradually giving way to determined focus. By mid-afternoon, he could manipulate small objects—picking up cups, pressing buttons, even signing his name.
"Enough," Raj said finally, noting Roy's fatigue. "Your neural pathways need rest."
Roy nodded, reluctantly allowing Raj to remove the prosthetic. The skin beneath was red and irritated.
"Tomorrow we'll continue," Raj said, applying a cooling salve. "And I'll make adjustments to reduce the friction."
Roy settled back on his bed, exhausted but with a new spark of determination. "I need to be ready," he said quietly.
"Ready for what?"
"To take back what's mine," Roy replied, voice hard with resolve. "My identity. My life."
An alarm chimed softly from the monitoring station. Raj checked the readings from Match's stasis pod—cellular degradation increasing by 4% since yesterday. He placed his palm against the stasis field, eyes glowing blue as he concentrated. The pod's warning lights dimmed from red to amber.
"Just a little longer," he whispered to the unconscious clone. "We're almost ready."
ABANDONED OBSERVATORY --- JULY 26, 23:13 EDT
"Your prosthetic's responding better," Raj observed, watching Roy adjust his bow grip.
Roy stood in their makeshift range, six targets arranged at varying distances. Three already bore arrows close to the bullseye—impressive accuracy for someone learning to shoot with a prosthetic arm.
Roy grunted, flexing the gunmetal fingers. "Still feels like it belongs to someone else."
"Give it time," Raj advised. "Neural adaptation is progressing faster than anticipated. You're recalibrating faster than expected."
As Roy drew back the bowstring, the blue circuit traces etched into his prosthetic flared brighter. The rotating gauntlet at his wrist clicked softly as it adjusted to the pressure.
"You know," Raj said, "you're not exactly Roy Harper anymore. That arm changed everything. The way you move, the way you fight—even the way you think is adapting."
Roy lowered his bow, staring at the mechanical hand. "I don't know who I am anymore. Not Speedy. Not the Roy Harper everyone remembers—that's him, the replacement."
"Then pick a new identity—something that isn't tied to who you were or what that clone has become," Raj suggested. "Look at what you've become. You're not just an archer anymore—you're a walking weapon. A one-man arsenal."
Something flickered in Roy's eyes—recognition, acceptance, rebirth. "Arsenal," he said, testing the word. He notched another arrow. "That's who I am now. Arsenal."
Raj watched the transformation—the straightening of posture, the hardening of jaw, the calculated precision replacing raw anger.
"The Roy Harper they knew is gone," Arsenal declared. "He was weak. He was forgotten. Arsenal won't be."
Raj nodded. "Welcome to your future, Arsenal."
But time was running out. Raj pulled up Match's bioreadings on the monitor. The downward trend was unmistakable.
"We don't have much left," he added grimly. Match was deteriorating faster than predicted, his Kryptonian DNA rejecting itself.
"How long?" Arsenal asked.
"At current degradation rates? A week. Maybe less." The white streak in Raj's hair had widened noticeably, testimony to the energy he'd expended. Using his power to create a stabilizing field around Match's pod was draining him faster than expected.
"Why do you care so much about him?" Arsenal nodded toward the stasis pod.
"Because he's like you," Raj replied. "Created as a weapon. Abandoned when he wasn't perfect."
"Like you were?" Raj countered softly.
"Match never asked to be created. Never asked to be designed as a weapon. Never had a chance to choose who he wanted to be."
"And if you wake him up and he decides to be exactly what CADMUS programmed him to be?" Arsenal challenged.
"Then at least it will be his choice," Raj replied. "Not theirs."
He pulled up a schematic on the monitor—a high-security facility with LexCorp's logo. "LexCorp has what we need. A stabilizing compound developed from previous encounters with Kryptonian physiology. With modifications, it could halt Match's cellular degradation."
Arsenal's lip curled. "Good. I owe Luthor a few black eyes."
"This isn't about revenge," Raj cautioned.
"Maybe not for you," Arsenal replied, his artificial hand clenching with a soft whir. "But I've got plenty to go around."
"We'll need to be careful," Raj said. "LexCorp security is formidable."
"I've been training," Arsenal pointed out. "The arm works well enough."
"We'll need equipment," Raj said, moving to his workstation. "Specialized gear for both of us."
The air between them shimmered as Raj's dimensional energy formed a detailed holographic projection of the LexCorp facility.
"We go in tomorrow night, during the shift change at 23:30," Raj explained. "The compound is stored in Vault 7B, Sub-Level 3. Security includes biometric scanners, motion sensors, and a rotating patrol schedule."
"Nothing we can't handle," Arsenal said with grim confidence.
"There's one more thing. The Justice League has been investigating CADMUS since discovering Superboy. There's a significant probability they're also monitoring LexCorp."
Arsenal's expression darkened. "The League," he said, the words like poison. "You think they might interfere?"
"It's a possibility we need to account for."
Arsenal stared at the holographic facility. "Let them come. I've got questions of my own for them."
"This mission is about saving Match," Raj reminded him firmly. "Not confrontation with former allies."
"They were never my allies," Arsenal replied bitterly. "Allies don't abandon you for three years."
The hologram shifted to display specialized equipment—advanced infiltration gear, communication devices, and weapons beyond current technology. "I'll fabricate what we need tonight," Raj said, his power already forming the concepts in his mind.
"You should rest," Arsenal advised, surprising Raj with his concern. "Tomorrow will test us both."
Raj placed his hand on Match's stasis pod, his energy temporarily reinforcing the failing containment. "Just one more day," he whispered. "Hold on just one more day."
All balanced-on tomorrow's mission.
