Darkstar

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SIX GEESE A’LAYING

by Harper Kingsley

There were times when Darkstar really cursed the obsessions of other people.

"Seriously, what is this bullshit?"

"It’s the sixth day of Christmas," Saul said. "Someone’s sent you six geese. Likely the same someone that send you five gold rings, four colly birds–those are blackbirds by the way–three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge unfortunately tied to a pear tree.

"Wow," Darkstar said. "Just a really big wow."

He left the secretary to figure out what to do with all the poultry and returned to his bedroom. He’d woken and dressed as usual, but he saw nothing wrong with changing back into pajamas and climbing into bed.

He wasn’t ready to deal with the day, so he wouldn’t.

He curled up on the big bed and stared at nothing.

He remembered the Christmases of his childhood, before things had gotten so dark. He knew he had loved his parents, though his mom had broken his memory.

He’d had years to face the damage Sandra had done to his mind. Sandra had cracked him open so thoroughly that he hadn’t even realized she’d done it.

He’d loved her with a, in retrospect, disgusting level of fervor.

Like all the Darksters so desperate to kiss his ass, he’d loved his Mommy.

And he’d hated his father for letting her be locked up. Had blamed Patrick with a solid surety that still left him resenting the man.

He knew Patrick had done the right thing. Knew that Patrick loved him.

But the hatred had destroyed the connections between them. To the point that now, even knowing better, he still existed in the echo of that hatred. He could not force himself to apologize, to try and get along again. Because there were no amends to mend–just a gaping nothing where there had once been a father and child.

He couldn’t blame his mom for what she’d done. He was bitter for what they’d all lost, but he couldn’t blame her.

He blamed those men that had broken into the house of his childhood. He blamed them for the hurt they’d dealt his mother and father. He blamed them for the hurt he didn’t remember but that they’d done to him.

His mother had used her powers on them all, and he couldn’t blame her for doing it. Because those men had been doing terrible things to her family. And she’d lashed out.

And people had gotten hurt.

And Vereint had never blamed her, so Darkstar couldn’t blame her now.

Because she had loved him, and he’d loved her. And those men had deserved it.

Just as she’d deserved to be locked away afterward.

Because she’d lost control, then never been able to refind it. And she was dangerous, and flighty, and everyone had had a reason to fear her.

He’d grown up and his body had developed its own protections to psionic abilities. The chains of her power had fallen away from him and he’d been free to face the world as it was.

He remembered the feel of the chains and the way they hadn’t felt bad at all. Had seemed comforting for some of the time, and had ached with a longing for her during the rest.

He’d missed his mother for most of his life.

He couldn’t help understanding the obsession of the Darksters. Even as he cursed the inconvenience of it all.

"’Six geese a’laying,’" he muttered, rolling on his back and closing his eyes. "Ridiculous."

=END=

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Title: Five Golden Rings

Author: Harper Kingsley

Character: Kanon-Darkstar, post-Battle for Terra

The setup: After ruling a city of sycophants, a tired-of-all-the-bs Darkstar approaches Dr. Zee for the technology to jump universes. He activates the device and travels to a new Earth… And in that moment, there are an infinite number of worlds he could have gone to. And if branch-theory is a thing, a version of him has gone to a version of every world. This Darkstar has come to this world.

A/N: I wrote a snippet I called "That Dune Thing," and that’s what I’m recycling here. The summary for "That Dune Thing" was "Summary: A prisoner held in a Dune-like setup with a cat. Thought-centric." Now you know that prisoner is and might always have been Kanon-Darkstar. Enjoy.

. –– . x_x . –– .

He was captured the second he stepped out of the portal. Hit with something that sent yellow energy jolting through his whole body.

He got knocked out.

And when he woke up, he was collared and cuffed with chains holding him down. His superstrength was worn to practically nothing (he figured a normal human would have died from the treatment he received). He wasn’t healthy, but he was alive.

If miserable. And terribly fragile.

Tend the cat, suckle at its teats… fucking Dune-obsessed moron needed to be put down. But what could he do? They’d broken both his legs, his right arm, and three fingers on his left hand before casting them in heavily weighted plaster. All he had was his thumb and middle finger, which made it hard enough to care for the cat–how was he supposed to escape?

And the cat…

There was resentment, of course. Trapped as he was–wrong as it was–he felt the need to lash out at the nearest living thing. But it wasn’t her fault he was here.

Nothing was her fault. She was just as much a prisoner as he, moreso as she would never understand why this was happening to her. Why some horrible man had stuck her in a glass box with her limbs held immobile and only her head poking out the top.

He’d begun to pity the beast, even as he forced his heart to stay hard. They were going to die here in this cold stone room that leeched the warmth from his feet. They were going to die here and there was nothing he could do about it. So he held the tattered remains of his dignity around himself and refused to break.

Even as he tended the cat–slowly and painfully dragging himself across the floor each day–and felt his soul slipping and cracking at the madness, he refused to break.

Because somewhere in him, he still held an ember of hope: Someone would come for him. His followers would not leave him here.

And even if all he left behind was an empty shell, he had to hope that they would see his body home.

"Here kitty kitty."

. –– . x_x . –– .

Flarian raced after Dov down the near endless corridors of the Dark Citadel. He clutched his blaster in his hand and kept his head on a swivel.

They had escaped the Black Prince and his Demon Horde. They needed to escape the dungeon if they wanted to leave this accursed place.

The underground prison was a massive complex of cells and their pitiful occupants. It hurt his soul that they could not stop.

I will come back and rescue you, he promised in his heart. Because it was only chance that he wasn’t behind bars at the moment.

Because it would be only through good luck if he and Dov escaped.

He refused to waste this chance he had been given. They were going to get away, or they would be captured trying.

He would die before he gave up his freedom. And he refused to be used against the Alliance.

"Which way?" Dov asked. They had reached a (–nexus–) in the corridors.

They could go right, left, or continue forward.

The doors around them had become solid expanses, each broken by a single narrow horizontal slit of a windo about 6 feet up. In all directions, there seemed an endless number of doors, the only differences about them the alien shape of the glowing runes carved about the doorways.

Flarian hunched in on himself, gasping for breath. They’d been running so fast. "Wh-which way did we need to go? North and up?" He fumbled for the leather thong around his neck, holding the pendant toward Dov.

The end was a glass bubble that contained a compass.

"Looks like you’re useful for something after all, Montague," Dov said.

"Thank you, Sire," Flarian bobbed his head agreeably.

His father had gotten him the posting with the prince. Unless they were for sure going to die, he wasn’t going to drop an ounce of his manners around the royal shitbird.

Dov squinted at the compass, turning it this way and that. Flarian held still as the thin strip of leather rubbed against the skin of his neck.

"All right, I think we wanna go that way." Dov pointed right and released the pendant. "Let’s go, Montague. No time to waste."

"For certain, Sire," Flarian chirped. And they were running again.

. –– . x_x . –– .

It was the sound of arguing that caught his attention. His hearing had been getting better and better in the recent days, and he could feel the pain of his wounds easing.

He thought that he was getting stronger. With a bit of help, he could be completely healed.

He’d taken to listening to the world around him as he stretched his muscles.

While he was "powerless" in the sense that he wasn’t vaporizing anything or flying free, he could see his body healing abnormally fast. Crooked leg bones and all.

He had to get out of here. Him and Cat the cat.

"I’ll take you with me," he promised amongst his tears. And there was no way he was leaving the cat in this hell if he ever managed to escape. They would leave this place forever and never look back.

The voices outside his prison caught his attention. That he could understand them was what held it.

"It is unfortunate, but we may just have to go back."

"No way, Montague. This is the way we want to go: East and up."

"North and up, Sire. We wanted to go North and up."

Realizing the dullness of normal human senses, he dragged himself beside the door and began knocking against it as loud as he could.

Hopefully they would hear him over their oddly polite bickering.

. –– . x_x . –– .

Flarian refrained from strangling the Second Prince through pure force of will. He was a bit proud of himself.

They had been running the wrong way and had made more turns than he thought he could backtrack.

He could feel the trap closing around him and wanted to scream.

In the prison area with the open bars, he had seen the horrors the Black Prince had done to sentient beings. They were pitiable broken things barely clinging to the last glimpses of life.

He’d followed Dov into literal hell itself, and now he’d let him trap them there.

His hands had balled themselves into fists and he was talking himself into pummeling the prince when he heard the sound of knocking.

"Quiet!" he hissed, then listened closely for the source of the sound.

A door encircled with glowing runes. The magic was heavy enough he could feel it against his skin as he approached.

"Hello?" he called, swallowing hard before reaching out his left hand to rap his armored knuckles against the door. It rang like metal.

Whoever was on the other side knocked out a strange sequence of three and three and three.

Flarian glanced at Dov. "Let me have the crowbar. I want to find out what’s on the other side of this door."

Dov looked indecisive. "We should go back. We shouldn’t waste time. We…"

"The crowbar, Sire. This door need opening," Flarian said firmly. And the prince finally–finally!–passed over the short length of bent metal.

Whatever the runes were intended to do, it wasn’t to stop brute force entry from the outside.

Flarian had to shrug off his jacket and roll up his shirt sleeves, but he was able to pry the prison door open.

Once there was an inch of space, the person inside reached long fingered hands through to help force the door open.

It gave with a loud screech before slamming against the wall. The prisoner didn’t look as if he could have opened the door with such force. He looked in terrible condition, more than just scraggly black hair, but leg bones bent in painful directions and left to heal that way for months.

Flarian made a moue with his mouth. There was no way this man was running anywhere. He swallowed, and raised his eyes to meet the man’s, to explain that they wouldn’t be able to take him with them.

"Well, hello to you," the prisoner drawled.

And even with the covering of filth and debris, with blood dried black against his skin, there was something undeniably charming about him.

Flarian felt himself blush. "Hello."

=END=

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"Darkstar" is introduced in Heroes & Villains as the supervillain name of the once-superhero Starburst.

Vereint Georges has always dreamed of being a superhero like his wall poster crush Blue Ice. So when he gains superpowers (strength, flight, invulnerability, speed–the basic package) he sets out to be what he thinks a superhero should be.

From the haircut, to the "I’m a superhero" voice, to the almighty poses, he uses them all.

And as a result, his superhero persona Starburst is universally mocked by reporters and superheroes alike. Including Blue Ice.

In a confrontation with Blue Ice, Starburst discovers some kind of new ability where violet light auras out of his body and melts everything it touches. He barely manages to stop it after it melts a section of street and sidewalk (and possibly a fire hydrant? I have to go back and reread that scene).

For a second, he’s proud of himself that he managed to get control. He looks up and catches Blue Ice’s–his hero’s!–eyes, and expects some kind of praise or something. Instead he gets derision and a general sense of "Get your shit together."

Vereint continues on as a superhero for awhile, but eventually snaps and decides that if he can’t be a hero, he’s going to be a villain and do whatever he wants. So during the annual Good Day Parade, he robs a jewelry store.

And that’s the start of his criminal career.

Stealing things. Displaying his powers to crowds as they hand off their wealth and goods. Trying out different outfits and looks to the enjoyment of the masses. And obliterating anyone that dares to confront him.

Every time Vereint "powers up," his metabilities grow.

In the Heroes & Villains universe, he falls in love with Warrick and retires from the super-life. There are occasions where he’s forced to power up (and violently kills a bunch of people, sorry to the squeamish) which grows his metabilities. But for the most part, his metabilities are just simmering under the surface, growing, but slowly. It’s more of a natural progression than Kanon-Darkstar’s power growth.

Because Kanon-Darkstar constantly uses his metabilities, his Charm is off the charts. It’s to the point where it’s more than just a registered weapon–his section of Megacity is under permanent quarantine.

Because while Kanon Darkstar can and does leave his Megacity to visit other places, he lives there and sleeps there most nights.

HV-Vereint can "power down," basically damp himself down so much that he’s practically a normal human. More durable, stronger, but at his depowered base he could still push a car or jump onto a second floor roof. It’s when he wants to move heavier things or do more metahuman stuff that he has to tap into his "inner power." But as long as he’s powered down, his Charm isn’t effecting the people around him. There’s not tendrils of influence going out, scrambling peoples’ brains.

Kanon Darkstar has kept himself powered up for so long and for so hard that even in his most depowered state, he can’t help exuding Charm around him.

And, as is revealed in–I think Allies & Enemies or Tuesday Night–one of the stories, a metahuman being around a stronger metahuman can make them stronger. (It’s all about the manna and the nectar zions and all that stuff from Timeline. It doesn’t matter for exposition purposes.)

Kanon-Darkstar is a powermaker.

Him just living in an area, exuding his presence all over, results in stronger metabilities in those that would have Manifested without him, and in metabilities developing in those that would have had a dormant Nor-gene.

In Allies & Enemies there’s statistics mentioned in the news about something like 80% of the population possessing the Nor gene, with most Manifesting minor abilities. Stuff like being able to grow their fingernails or heal their own skin. Minor stuff.

In the Kanon-verse, there are a lot more powerful metahumans because Darkstar is polluting the air around him with his very presence. And the more powerful metahumans there are, the more metahumans they effect and help create.

Kanon Sunfire is stronger than HV-Sunfire, and has displayed a much stronger–and deadlier–photokinetic ability as well as a devastating level of Charm-ability. Meanwhile, Kanon Melissa Kim becomes a superhero, but her powerset is a bit different from Blue Devil’s and she can’t fly.

no Vereint x Warrick = no adopted Melissa Kim = no Blue Devil

HV-Darkstar developed the gaussian blur he’s known for over time. There are clear photographs of the superhero Starburst, though everyone notes they look like different people. They could be brothers, but no one would think Starburst was Darkstar.

This is because while the gaussian blur is Darkstar’s metabilities visibly affecting mechanical equipment, it’s also a proof that his Charm is reaching out from his body. It shows up stronger closer around his head and face, but there’s no doubt that an invisible something is reaching out.

Because everyone that comes into contact with him is effected.

It is because of Darkstar that Charm is classified as one of the most powerful metabilities in the Kanon universe. So while the Heroes & Villains universe chugs along in ignorance, the Kanonverse understands that Charm is a horrifying and inexorable metability.

After a time, the League of Superheroes and other groups develop the use of "Charm proof" helmets for when they have to come into contact with Darkstar. But it’s well understood that the helmets will do nothing against long term contact or if the complete attention of Darkstar rests on someone. It’s better to not have him power up around people.

Thus the quarantining of Megacity.

He is treated as a god. Given everything and anything that he wants and whatever people think he might desire.

Some want his attentions upon them, feeling the burning glory of his presence against their skin and every bit of being.

Most people dread his attentions, glad to keep him appeased and within the confines of the Quarantine Zone.

"Darkstar is like a bear. A fucking dancing bear. He doesn’t know how to fight. He’s flailing around, punching and kicking and ‘oh look, I did a flip’ when it’s his ability to fly. But if you let that bear get its paws on you… it will fuck you up." — possibly from an LoS meeting where they watch video of Darkstar "fighting" a large group of people.

Vereint in Heroes & Villains has no real fight training. He never bothered to learn more than the basics he’s managed to pick up.

Kanon-Darkstar has more fight ability, but he’s still not "skilled" at it. Mostly because anything he hits with intent is obliterated.

It’s very hard to practice martial arts when you’re so strong that the world around you might as well be made of soda-lime glass.

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On the first day of Xmas, Harper Kingsley wrote for me of Darkstar transformed into a tree

Title: The Carrion Tree

Author: Harper Kingsley

Character: Kanon-Darkstar, post-Battle for Terra

The setup: After ruling a city of sycophants, a tired-of-all-the-bs Darkstar approaches Dr. Zee for the technology to jump universes. He activates the device and travels to a new Earth… And in that moment, there are an infinite number of worlds he could have gone to. And if branch-theory is a thing, a version of him has gone to a version of every world. This Darkstar has come to this world.

Darkstar ends up on an Earth with some very different plant life. Including the carrion plant that all smart humans avoid unless they want their every orifice entered.

The pleasure is great, but most people avoid carrion plants unless they want to die.

CW: consent issues due to it being an inhuman plant using aphrodisiacs as a prey attractant.

Mature.

Twitter meta-thread: https://twitter.com/HarperKingsley0/status/1341191075742924805

*—

The birds circled overhead, their screeching caws more than anything else telling him he was far from home. Their red feathers were a bright slash against the blue-blue sky. The air smelled of some foreign spice, near overpowering in its intensity.

"Well shit," Darkstar said, and sneezed. He could feel his nose beginning to run and it was such a foreign sensation that he allowed himself to enjoy it. From his reading, he figured he wouldn’t be marveling at the feeling for long.

Reaching down, he picked up a rock and crushed it between his fingers. Superstrength intact? Check.

It looked like the air-quality of this alternate universe could affect him. At least until his body adapted to it. (He hoped his body adapted to it. He was already growing annoyed with the sensation.)

He looked around at the alien scenery and wondered if even half these plants existed on his own Earth. Some of the grass and trees appeared familiar. The rest… were exotic to say the least.

He thought about flying, but felt an instinctive aversion. He wanted to experience this new Earth from the ground floor. Wanted to get a closer look at the plant life. Wanted to trudge the dirt with his own booted feet and follow that strange elusive scent that was fluttering his nose hairs and making his nerves hum.

A flush of heat went over him, but he ignored it. If the sun rose and set the same as on his Earth, then he was walking east with the breeze in his face. He could see the leaves folding and bending under its invisible force.

The air was sweet perfume. He absently swept his hand under his dripping nose and wiped it off on his pant leg.

Walking became an automatic function. It felt as though his legs were working without him, carrying him toward something amazing.

There’s something funny happening here, he thought, but it seemed distant and unimportant.

He was on another Earth, one that was somehow completely different from his own while at the same time being kind of the same. Plant-life was different, but gravity still existed and the ground was solid beneath his feet.

Continue Reading On the first day of Xmas…