DCU The Flash #34 Primitive Beings pt.2 (Godspeed)

Grodd slides a large machine across the workshop floor, a small screech echoing throughout the room. Malavar assists him, carrying one box of supplies over his shoulder and another under his arm. Making sure the machine was lined up with its kin, Grodd grabs one of the boxes from his associate, placing it onto one of the many worktables.

 

He begins to rummage, earning a raised brow from his associate. "General, are you sure you're fine?" Malavar asks, placing the other box onto the table. "I know the doctors say you are, but…"

 

"I am fine," he dismisses, finally finding the object he longed for.

 

Malavar watches with a frown as the General slides the box from his belt. He'd begun calling it "mother" ever since they returned from the crash site. The attachment… worries Malavar.

 

Grodd, however, pays no mind to the odd look from his colleague, placing the item from the crate onto one of the larger machines, before slotting Mother into it. He can feel her; the gentle humming in his ears, the tingly vibrations on his mind.

 

"General," Malavar begins, helping unpack the box, "I know you said you'd explain in due time but what… fascinates you so much about that box. About Mother?"

 

Grodd was glad his colleague corrected himself, he suspected Malavar would be one of the first to understand. "She is… alive… communicating with me," he explains, running a finger down the chrome edges. "There is knowledge here… entirely untapped."

 

"You've never been one to favor knowledge, General," Malavar challenges, removing Grodd's hunting knife from the box. "In actuality, you were rather against technology and advancements of it."

 

"And I still am," he responds, stepping forward and taking the knife from Malavar's hand. He closes his fist around the blade, a deathly crutch echoing in the still rather empty room, followed by the wooden hilt clattering in the floor. As his hand opens, the stone of the blade is the consistency of sand, the grains tinted with the red of his blood. He lets it fall to floor, a few more droplets of blood falling from his palm.

 

"She is no mere technology… she is so much more," he says, staring into Malavar's orange eyes, blown wide. "Mother has only shown me that even I relied on things such as blades… that I was no better than you and your scanners and lasers.

 

"She showed me how it all is so… primitive."

 

-^-

 

Queen Boka smiles, waving to the children. The whirring of her chariot pulls her through the streets of the city, past commoners and nobles alike. The smile, thoroughly practiced, isn't a true one. A fake smile, practiced for decades now.

 

In truth, her mind is currently distracted. Pulled from both privilege and duty, all she could think of was him; General Grodd. Earlier this week, shortly after his discovery of… the box, he began to change.

 

The first, and by far most notable, was the day he'd moved from the Great Tree to a small building in the upper west side. This was not an uncommon thing; moving from the Great Tree to the city was a moment of pride for most, a moment due for celebration. Grodd was different, he could've taken a home in the city decades ago, back when homes first began construction. He declined, he'd always decline.

 

The second, his actions. Grodd is an overachiever to a fault. His pride and ego push him every day to accommodate for everything he can, any task or duty. He tells himself it's for the people, but it's merely a front. Boka knows him, she knows him well. She knows the malice buried in his heart, the antipathy for stagnation. This has changed. She hasn't seen Grodd assisting others since that night, he hasn't taken a single mission from Solovar or attended optional meetings.

 

The third, and most frightening… is the whispers. The box he'd salvaged… Grodd has become attached to it. He's never seen without the machine, always keeping it in his hand or on his belt. He rubs it with his fingers, whispers to it, as if it were alive. He calls it mother.

 

Boka believes it is the root of it all. Whatever the box is, it is changing Grodd from the dependable warrior to something she doesn't like.

 

She's brought it up with Solovar, but she knows her husband won't be able to solve this matter. She'd need to take it into her own hands.

 

-^-

 

Grodd sees the looks they give him. They stare at him, whispering their thoughts as if he can not see.

 

He enters the palace, the imperial guard keeping their weapons drawn as their eyes follow him. Weapons like that… he doesn't understand how they are still so small minded. Perhaps it's what Solovar wishes to speak about, allowing his ideas to prosper. He hopes so. It would finally allow Gorilla kind to take the next step towards forward, to their rightful place as Earth's rulers.

 

Pushing open the doors to the throne room, Grodd sees his old acquaintance sitting upon his throne, though Boka is nowhere in sight. He steps up to the throne, not bothering to bow, rather placing his hand on Mother. Her pulse soothes him, giving him any confidence he lacked.

 

"Solovar."

 

The monarch in question pauses a moment, taken aback slightly by the lack of formality. "It is good to see you, General," he finally greets, eyes trailing to Grodd's hand, still firmly gripping the box. "I see you have brought the machine with you."

 

"She is no machine," Grodd states, as matter of factly as possible. It irked him, to see even one he deemed a friend to say such things… could they not see it? Not feel it? "Speaking of her," he begins, the pulse of mother bringing his mind back on task, "I believe I know what I've been summoned for."

 

"Do you know?"

 

"Her mind," Grodd again states, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "With her, I believe Gorilla City can finally reach a new dawn!"

 

In his ecstatic state, he fails to see the confused frown of the king. Solovar takes a moment, likely gathering the thoughts to respond to such a claim. "I- General, there is much we need to discuss…" he says calmly, leaning forward in his seat, "and yes… it is about the box."

 

"You were right mother," Grodd slurs, an unsettling laugh echoing through the throne room. "They recognize you, recognize us."

 

"People are worried about you, Grodd."

 

The words pull Grodd from his trance-like state, leaving him stunned. A strange sensation washes over him. Anger? Disappointment? He can't place it, nor can he place the erratic pulsing of Mother. The pulsing… he can't… he can't hear her, not the way he normally does.

 

"What?" It's all he can muster, feeling the thumping of his own heart matching the ever increasing pace of Mother. Is she warning him? Is he in danger? Should he run? Fight? What is he supposed to do?

 

"General, breathe," Solovar commands, calming his mind for a moment. "This is what others are worried about. You are different now, that box is changing you."

 

"You… you did not call me to bolster our forces?" Grodd pants, his mind still slightly scattered. "We have the means to truly rise and take the world for ourselves!"

 

"Do you see yourself, general?" Solovar asks, standing from his throne. Grodd's eyes narrow, watching his emperor take steps down from his throne. "I'm going to ignore your comment about conquest… but you're not well."

 

"Ignore it?" Grodd says, feeling his fire return. He steps up to Solovar, eyeing his king. "What kind of king ignores his general? What kind of king would abandon his people?"

 

"That is not the issue, Grodd…" Solovar sighs, taking a step back. Grodd feels the corners of his mouth perk up, victorious. "It isn't why I brought you here!"

 

"It is why I came though," Grodd scoffs, running his thumb over Mother.

 

"You fail to understand the first thing that comes with being king." Solovar finally snaps, causing Grodd to take a step back. "The land? The status? None of it matters! As the king of our home, there is one thing that truly matters... those who live in the city."

 

Grodd stands stunned, rarely hearing Solovar raise his voice. He takes another step back, his grip tightening on Mother. He isn't only stunned at the tone though. The words sit in his ears, replaying in his head. His skin boils with rage.

 

"As long as the crown sits atop my hea-"

 

"I challenge you for the throne."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Those above 10 in ranking may challenge the king for his crown," Grodd says, steeling his resolve and So I, General Grodd, challenge you, Solovar."

 

"Grodd, please. We have fought together side by side for decades," Solovar pleads, reaching a hand out to Grodd. "You're more than just my general, you're like a brother to me. Please, just listen to reason."

 

"Do you accept my challenge," Grodd says darkly, his beady red eyes staring into Solovar, full of malice, "or forfeit your crown?"

 

Solovar looks hurt, his own eyes, though the same shade of red, lacking any of the malice held by Grodd. "General Grodd," he announced, with a sigh, "I hereby renounce your rankings and discharge you from the military."

 

The world around Grodd goes dark. Sounds, light, even mother's pulsing… it's all gone. A shaky breath escapes him. "What are you... That is not just!" he shouts, his hand leaving mother for the first time since he arrived. "You're going against the laws that founded this city!"

 

"The old laws are from a time period long past," Solovar says, taking a seat on the throne and ushering in the palace guards. "I wish there was another way… but I can not allow your ego to destroy gorilla city, nor yourself."

 

The guards take hold of Grodd as he struggles, attempting to free himself and lash out at Solovar. "You are everything wrong with Gorilla kind!" Grodd shouts as he's dragged from the room. "You will see one day! I promise you!"

 

"And I hope you will see one day, Grodd… see the truth of our people."

 

-^-

 

Grodd slams his fist against the wall, leaving a craterous dent in the metal. His blood boils, his eyes bulge… he can barely breathe with how tight his chest feels. He was not general, not anymore. His role, his life, they were stripped away from him in an instant. Years, decades of dedication to the city was rewarded with this? He tears mother from his belt, holding her to his head. He needs her, he needs the warmth she gives; the simple, yet effective calming touch of her mind.

 

He doesn't get that. He doesn't feel that soothing sensation, rather a raging fear echoes in his mind. It hurts, much more than he's willing to admit. He hastily pulls away, staring at the glowing red lights shining from her face. He stares confused, unsure what she is afraid of, what she's trying to tell him. No matter how strong their bond is, they are still two minds. No matter how strong their connection is, they aren't one.

 

If they were, things may have turned out differently.

 

The door breaks down, causing Grodd to whip his torso to the front of the room. He watches as four, no, six elite guards enter his home, their home. He takes a slow step backwards, holding mother close to him. She's pulsing frantically again, just the way she did when he was at the palace.

 

"You… you have no permission to enter my home!" Grodd shouts, taking another step back as the guards spread out through the room.

 

"We're here on imperial business, citizen," one of the guards announces, sending a jolt of hatred down Grodd's spine. Mere hours ago he could order these men to commit suicide, and to not comply would result in treason. Now he's being herded? "We are here on orders from the queen herself. We mean you no harm, we only need the box."

 

Boka? Mother? Orders?

 

Take… mother?

 

Grodd, in an instant leaps forward, keeping his grip on Mother as tight as he can. While midair, his free hand tears the light fixture free from the ceiling; swinging the light like a flail at his nearest attacker. Flesh sizzles as the swing connects, sparks flying from the shattered lightbulb, setting the guard ablaze. Grodd is quick to pick up the spear, spinning it around him to block a flurry of strikes from the other guards. He manages to gut one of them before the spear is snapped in half. He attempts to block the next strike with his arm, but is unable to guard his flank. The frontal attack pierces his arm, which he quickly moves to break the weapon, blade still deep in his arm. The flank, unfortunately, it's digs into his abdomen.

 

Grodd let's out a cry-like roar as he spin, his fist connecting with the opponent in front of him, while momentum carries the spear in his stomach alongside its wielder through the air. Grodd pulls the blad from his arm before slamming it into the flank's head, a spurt of crimson painting his deep black fur. Tugging the spear from his stomach, he winces at the pain, before readying himself. He doesn't get the chance to attack before his eyes lock into a horrible sight.

 

Somehow, during the struggle, he dropped Mother. He's frozen, even though he wants to move, to rush and save her, he can't. His own mind is caged, forced to watch as two of the remaining three guards dig their spears into her chassis. The echoing screech in his mind was enough to haunt him for the rest of his life, for the rest of the time his consciousness could exist. The two guards who'd stabbed into her gripped their skull, blood sleeping from their eyes, nose, and ears. Their screams echoed in the still near-empty room.

 

And then silence. There was no more pulse. There was no more feel, no more touch.

 

Mother was… gone?

 

From the corner of his eye, he sees the last guard, the one he'd punched, beginning to stir. No feel. No touch. He moves without thought, without care. He finds himself stood over the guard, fists clenched tight. If only they were this tight when he held her. If only he didn't let go.

 

His fists slam down. They slam down over and over and over and over again. Every second, he slams down once again. No feel. No touch. No mother. The squelching of flesh being torn apart under him is all there is in the world. Only red.

 

Only red until he can't slam his fists down anymore.

 

His body is lifeless, his mind feels empty. He takes slow steps, if he can even call them steps. It might be a crawl, he can't tell anymore. All he knows is that he's no longer above the guard, now hovering over her remains. His hands, stained red, scoop up the silver and red scraps. With her in his arms, he can feel. A faint, dying pulse.

 

"Please… mother, please," he pleads, hands shaking as he holds the remains to his head. For the first time in his life, tears fell from his face. Tears that, when they run down his bloody face, are dyed crimson.

 

The hum. The sensation. He can feel it once again. He can feel it as he holds her to his head.

 

That's when it happens. A bright, red glow engulfs him. It hurts, it hurts his body and hurts his mind. An excruciating ache that makes him wish the guards had finished him. The pain, it's not all that occurs. There's a new sensation… one different than anything he's felt, before or after Mother. It's like their minds are…

 

He stands, his wounds healed, his body cleaned of all the blood. The remains of mother are no longer in his hands, but rather… his hand brushes along his head, large fingers rushing over cool, silver metal imbued in his flesh.

 

He and mother were one. His mind never felt so right.

 

-^-

 

Red boots skid across the jungle floor, kicking dirt and leaves up into the air. Barry Allen shields his eyes from the sun that peeks through the canopy. After analyzing Dawson's flight records, Barry learned he'd been in the Congo Basin, Gabon, when he lost his memory. Barry had been searching the jungle for a little over an hour finding nothing. Nothing until now. He'd found it… what he assumed his target was, at least. A city, hidden deep in the jungle.

 

His lead to Raijin.

 

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NEXT TIME: A New Lead, a New Foe!

Done