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To the attention of the readers who enjoy reading an intelligent main character like Miles will definitely like my original story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Metropolis
Beckett Residence
The words kept repeating in his mind.
He doubted it was his subconscious acting up over the concerns regarding the changes to the future. So far, it has been to his advantage, except for the mess with Aresia. There were countless entities that could look to punish him for the changes done to the timeline.
Which one exactly, he couldn't begin to guess.
"Miles, the car is ready."
"Then let's not make Thomas wait anymore," he said. The teleporter was available, but he wanted to clear his head during the ride. He put on his hat and activated the regulator belt Victor had invented.
It was a lifesaver in summer.
Baraka opened the door for him and Claire. He quickly took the driver's seat, ready to drive.
"Wait, Miles?!" a very familiar, tired voice called to him. He turned back, hand on the door handle, gazing across the street. He froze for a second, turning his head away to hide his widening eyes.
"Do you know her?" Claire asked, eyes locked on her boss.
"Not at all," he said, opening the door.
"Miles, wait. Miles!" The woman shouted, running for the car.
"She seems to know you."
"Baraka, drive," he ordered.
He nodded without turning around, pulling the car out of the driveway. The woman did not let up, banging on the window, but he continued to ignore her.
"Your eyes looked very similar too."
"As I said, I have no idea who either of them are." Even his smile couldn't mask the stern tone.
"Alright." If he did not want to talk about it, she knew better than to push it.
He watched the woman run after the car from the reflection and made a call. "Captain, I want you to post guards around my house. Allow no one to approach the property without my permission."
"Yes sir, immediately."
—
EnviroCorps Robotics Research Center
He shook the android's hand. "Thomas, I trust you have good news for me?"
The synthetic eyes brightened, pulling him along. "I have finished the design for your mobile base. With the different technological bases you have provided me, it actually came out far better than I anticipated."
Thomas brought the holographic design. The design was angular and long. Six engines were at the back, giving it a thicker appearance compared to the deck.
"Rather than rotors, I used the anti-gravity engines. It is more like a spaceship than a helicarrier, though I wouldn't take it out for a space tour."
"Excellent work, Thomas." The Thanagarian scientists were proving their worth every single day. And all it took was a little game of deception to sic Larfleeze on the Gordanians.
All in a day's work.
"A legion of ACEs will be stationed aboard. Reflective panels for stealth, both visual and radar. The loadout can be changed in hours based on what you need, whether it's rescue and aid or assault."
The images of the Adaptive Combat Exoskeletons appeared first as Thomas demonstrated the capabilities of the base. The reflective panels turned transparent next. The interior changed, adding medical supplies, a triage center, and a cargo hold to carry passengers.
Or more ACEs.
"With Ivo's tech and the new brand of construction bots, I can get it done in six months. Do you have anything in mind for the crew? Otherwise, more ACEs."
"I believe that is for the best," he said. Creating a support base for a human crew would be nigh impossible without compromising the security.
"Getting your own flying fortress, Miles?" Claire asked, walking around the hologram, examining the ship.
"Should I make you the captain?" he offered, eyes crinkling.
"If I get a hat to go with the position, sure."
—
They had stopped for lunch at a cafe, enjoying chicken wraps and frozen Turkish yogurt with fruits. He took out his ringing phone, jaw stopping mid-motion as he saw the name of the caller. Regardless, he answered, wondering what she could have wanted.
"Fedora guy, how is it going?"
"Karen? To what do I owe this surprise?" Her voice was light, so it was unlikely to be an emergency.
"I just saved a woman from getting mugged. She kept muttering about Miles and how he ignored her. When I questioned her on a hunch, she gave your exact name, Miles Beckett."
He swallowed the morsel in his mouth, taking a sip from the soda to help it down. "Ah yes, her. To be frank, I have no idea who she is or how she knows me."
Whatever entity had brought his mother to this dimension would better hope there wasn't a way to kill.
"She claims to be your mother." Claire and Baraka were already watching him when he said Karen's name. Now, they pulled the chairs forward, almost getting into his personal space.
"Considering my mother did not have auburn hair, and she has not dyed hers, then she is not my mother." The woman was her mother, exactly as he remembered her. Yet, he would never admit it or talk to her.
Ever.
"She seems very convinced you are her son."
"Perhaps in another dimension? Whatever is happening across the multiverse, there seems to be too many transdimensional travelers these days." Lies blended with the truth were the most difficult ones to see through.
"That could be. Differences in appearances certainly exist. Though, how did she recognize you so quickly?"
"My sense of fashion is rather sophisticated."
There was silence on the other end for a second.
She sighed. "Listen, if she is your mother, go talk to her. She does not seem in good condition."
He wouldn't believe any of this either, yet there was no way for her to prove otherwise.
"I have nothing to say to her or her lover," he said. His words knocked the breath out of Claire, who sucked in a piece of the food to her trachea. Her coughs broke Baraka out of stillness. He gently hit her on the back, and she managed to cough the chicken out onto a napkin.
"Her lover?" Karen exhaled sharply. "You mean that young man next to her? Oh boy."
"Yes. I would recognize that gold digger everywhere," he said. Had it been a less conspicuous setting than the broad daylight in an elite neighborhood, there might have been exchanges.
Whether of words or bullets, he could not say.
"That's tough," she replied, pausing mid-sentence.
"Since you helped them, are you looking to return to the field?" he asked, changing the subject. Even the mere mention of that woman set his chest ablaze.
"With my job as a waitress?"
"You are from a technologically superior planet. I am sure you can put that to use." He did remember bits regarding Karen owning a company. She obviously had not gone down that path yet, but there was no reason she could not.
"Maybe."
—
"So," Claire began, dragging the word out, "she is your mother."
"She is not my anything. I do not care what happens to her or the boytoy," he said, words final and flat.
She raised her hands to the sides. "Whatever you say. I just did not think I would see you in the same boat as me, that's all."
"Where to now?" Baraka asked.
"Just drive until I figure it out."
He leaned back on his seat, looking out of the window. Options to discover the entity responsible for this mess were wide and far. Each offered more risks than the other.
The safest option was Constantine. He had dealings with higher cosmic entities, and the risk of drawing in further divine punishment was negligible. Unless they made a mess of things.
He found Madame Xanadu's contact on his phone and pressed the button.
"Mr. Beckett, how may I be of service?"
"I need Constantine's latest number if you have it. Your assistance will be appreciated."
"No doubt. I will message you now."
"Thank you."
He ended the call, waiting for the message. Constantine constantly changed numbers to avoid being traced. Tracking burner phones would be an exercise in futility.
The cheery ringtone snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly called the number, waiting once more.
"If this is about a curse, I'm busy. If it is about anything else, I'm very busy," Constantine's gruff voice answered.
"Not the time for games, Constantine. This is urgent."
A tongue clicked. "Then speak urgently."
"A higher entity has laid a punishment on me. I need to learn which one." Though, whether he could reverse this punishment or not was another matter.
Constantine hacked, and he had to wait for it to subside. "Bloody hell, you don't do small, do you?"
"Come find me in London. I trust a well-informed bloke like you can find the location."
"Just stay where you are for a moment," he said. Baraka took the clue, quickly finding a parking spot.
—
London
"Constantine," he greeted the sorcerer, who was leaning on a streetlight.
"That was fast."
"No time for chatter, I'm afraid." Constantine's curiosity would have to go unanswered in this instance.
Constantine nodded, waving them inside the safehouse. Once out of the bustling street, he closed the door after checking the area.
"What exactly is the nature of this punishment, and what makes you think it was the upstairs screwing you over?"
He explained, from hearing an infernal voice in his dream to seeing his mother, who should have been dead.
"Give me a second," John said. He held his hand out, summoning a circle that washed over Miles.
He stood still, the circle still glowing. He snapped out of it, waving his hand as if burned. "Bollocks. It is divine interference. No idea who you pissed off?"
"Potentially more than one." The Spectre, the Endless, or any other entity that might take an issue with the changes to the timeline could be coming after him.
"If I try to find the one responsible, I guarantee it will only make things worse. But," he added before Miles could speak, "I can summon the person who could give you the answer."
"Who?"
"The Phantom Stranger."
"Judas Iscariot," he said after a beat, remembering the true identity of the Eternal Wanderer.
"The very same."
"How do we do this?"
John grinned. "How is your history with church service?"
—
"Is he really going to summon one of the apostles that betrayed Jesus?" Claire asked, having looked up the name on the way to the church.
The sun had already set, and Constantine knew an abandoned church, the perfect place to summon the Phantom Stranger, according to him.
"Yes." Constantin said. His reasoning made sense to Miles. The Phantom Stranger was a servant of God. They could not find him, much less make enough noise in the correct direction for him to appear.
Calling him directly inside a church was one way to go at it.
"Hey Phantom, the bloke here got screwed over by the higher-ups. Think you can lend a hand?" he called out, laying a hand on the cross depicting Jesus.
Baraka's mouth opened, then closed. "Really? You just call him like that? No magic show?"
"It is unnecessary."
All four shivered collectively. The owner of the voice walked out of the shadows, appearing without any sound. He looked relatively ordinary in his suit over a white turtleneck sweater and fedora, much like the one Miles wore. Only the oversized medallion and the cape were out of place.
And the white, pupilless eyes.
"You have spoken, John Constantine, and I have heard." Each word from the Phantom Stranger sent more shivers down their spines. Miles could not mask what he felt at the moment, and even a long-term occultist like Constantine was affected.
"I'm not the issue this time, mate. It's him."
"I can see that." Judas merely turned his head to Miles, yet he felt as if the weight of it would spin the room.
Claire and Baraka were alerted, taking a more rigid stance.
"Who decided that I have meddled too much?" he asked.
"Judgment has seen your actions and acted."
Miles bit his tongue. The most likely entity who judged and punished was…
"The…"
"Do not utter the name." Judas' voice shook the room, silencing him, "lest you draw more attention."
He took a long, slow breath to still his heart. "What I did should not constitute anything to be punished by him." He was not a wicked individual, unless throwing Vandal Savage to the sun counted as wicked.
"Not him directly. The fate you consigned the immortal to have changed too many events in the future. You have presumed to override fate. This was a mere warning for your hubris," the Phantom Stranger warned.
Miles wanted to swear, to let his frustration out. He never considered that killing Vandal Savage would lead to divine punishment. He was an immortal and a being who had many appearances in the future. Imposing so many changes to the timeline might be the reason behind the Spectre's action.
"Do I get a list of what I am not permitted to do?" he asked, his tone cold at the memories of his mother.
The Phantom Stranger blinked at him but did not answer.
"I guess not," he thought.
"How do I free myself from this punishment?" The issue of his mother mattered more now.
"Either return what you have cast into the sun back or suffer the consequences." With those words, he disappeared.
The only sound inside the church was the steady breathing.
"Mate," Constantine laid a hand on his shoulder, breaking the silence. "I don't know what that was about with the immortal, and I don't want to. If you think what happened to you is bad, you won't like what happens when they actually decide to punish you."
"Thank you, John. I will send the money to your account."
"Much appreciated. It's always nice to have a well-paying customer like you."
—
Metropolis
He would rather suffer the existence of his mother in this reality than allow Savage to interfere in Earth any longer. As far as punishments went, this was manageable. Worst comes to worst, he would simply pay her off to leave to the other side of the world.
Or something more permanent.
The return home was silent. Claire and Baraka saw the conflicted state Miles was in and gave him time to think.
When he left the car, the men waiting inside the vehicle parked outside the porch tipped their caps. He returned the gesture, checking the area for any sight of his mother.
She was nowhere to be seen.
Raven and Zalika were watching TV inside. Even though the sun had yet to set in Metropolis, he felt tired.
"Hey, welcome back."
"Zalika, Raven. Did anyone come by today?"
Raven glanced at him with half-lidded eyes. "If you mean a woman who claimed to be your mother, yes. The guards outside sent her away, though.
"Good."
He took a quick shower and left to sleep. Tomorrow, he would explain everything to them.
—
In the next chapter:
"I thought your mother was dead," Claire stated. Her inquisitive gaze was only tempered by her respect for privacy.
"This one is from an alternate reality. Her looks don't exactly match my mother's, but the little rat by her side does," he said. It was a poor excuse, and he had to work overtime to modify all the images he had put into circulation.
"I don't know about you two," Raven said, turning to the siblings, "but the rest of us do have family issues. I can't bring myself to meddle."
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