Welp, this is it. Fear not, though. We Are Legion will have successors.

"Welcome back! Today, we'll continue our discussion on the events of November 21st. Cities worldwide are recovering from the cases of madness and violence that swept the globe that day, with death tolls rising into the thousands. With the simultaneous release of footage showing the superhero Legion engaging a group of villains, the question on everyone's minds is: how are these two things connected? As a guest today we have the Justice League member Giovanni Zatara."

"Good morning."

"So, care to shed some light on the events of the 21st, Mr. Zatara?"

"Of course. Are you familiar with the villain known as Dr. Destiny, Ms. Grant?"

"I don't believe I am."

"He was an early foe of the second Green Lantern, in the early 90s. His power was...unusual. He used a large gemstone to bring dreams to life, and to alter them. He was defeated, and due to the madness inflicted upon him by overuse of the gem, brought to Arkham Asylum. He escaped a year prior in a mass breakout, but nothing was heard from him until the day he fought Legion. What my colleagues and I currently believe is that his gem, in his battle with Legion, tapped into...let us call it the collective subconscious. As it drew on that realm for power to protect Destiny, it...unsettled things."

"And caused madness across the world?"

"Yes. Thankfully, the gem was destroyed, and it is nearly impossible to create a similar artifact. The gem itself was unique."

"And what about the allegations made by the villain Centurion, and by Legion himself, during their battle? Is it true that-?"

"The Spear is genuine. And it will remain locked away for the foreseeable future. It is far too dangerous to use."

This is the Last Will and Testament of Grant Alvear, alias Legion

Well, if you're reading this, someone pulled it off and finally managed to kill me. To whoever you are: congrats, you pulled off some Grade-A bullshit, and if it wasn't me on the receiving end I'd probably have thought it pretty funny.

Regardless, I'm dead, there's likely mourning and crying, or if I was enough of an asshole in between the time of my death and writing this, celebrating and excessive consumption of alcohol.

For my family:

Tomek Ovadya Morah, you're Greta's legal guardian now. Take care of her, raise her well. You're also inheriting all of my business assets, you old bastard. Don't fuck up. Lastly, anything left in the vaults is yours to distribute. I've likely left quite a few projects unfinished- either destroy them or give them to their intended owners.

First of the Swarm...well, congrats, Pinocchio, legally speaking you're a real boy. My libraries have been unlocked, and there's a standing agreement with Nabu that you're allowed to peruse his own collection. You were made to be my helper and apprentice, but I think by now your skills at bioengineering have surpassed my own. You're the master of the Swarm now. You're also the only one of the Swarm with human-equivalent intelligence, so listen up: care for your brothers and sisters, keep a tight leash on them, and never turn against humankind. Beyond that...grow. Evolve. And keep this world safe.

Greta...I'm sorry that I had to leave you. There's enough put away to fund your education, and even more once you come of age and demonstrate you have a cool head with regards to obscene amounts of money. Library's open to you as well, and I have quite a few books picked out for you to start with. I'm counting on you, little one. Whatever you do, it'll make me proud, I know it.

Cassandra: Don't cry for me. There's a few pieces I've been working on in my spare time, for when you're older. If you want to walk the same path I have...simply come to the Mountain. First knows what to do.

For my friends:

For all of you, I've scattered investments in your names across fields I think will become quite profitable in the years to come. At the very least it'll be enough for each of you to equip yourselves without relying on anyone else. The people to contact are listed in the sealed envelopes that came with the will.

Garfield: The labs are open to you, and will remain that way.

Artemis: I've left everything I could pull together on shards in a condensed format. Use it well, and keep being the hero you were meant to be.

Red Arrow: What I have to give to you is within the lockbox in one of the deeper vaults. You're smart enough to use it, but if you go charging off like an idiot I'll come back from the dead (or the Red) to smack you upside the head myself. Temper anger with reason.

Speedy: I don't think you and I talked much. I can't rectify that now, either. Stick with your brother, and in my absence knock some sense into him from time to time.

Aqualad: Beyond the sealed information, which you should read in private, I've left the notes to some of my less explored avenues of biomancy. With Red and Clear merged, your people could find these useful.

Robin: Talk to 'Butlerman', and your mentor. They should know the score. You and Aqualad will both be needed for what lies ahead.

Kid Flash: Keep the staff, if it's intact. Something to remember me by, and if worst comes to worst you can use it as a spell component. I've also left a few notes into a certain formula. It's not my area of expertise, but perhaps your family could make use of it.

Superboy: I won't be around to help with the amulet if something goes wrong with it. At the time of writing (November 10th, 2010) within a year or so even the most residual changes should be complete, and you can safely set it aside. Until then, the documentation and notes on its creation should serve if anyone needs to repair or otherwise adjust it.

Match: Try to keep your brother from breaking too much or blowing up the Mountain with laser vision, please?

Victor: I doubt you really need the money at this point, but I've made quite a few advances in research. Enclosed is a variety of alterations you could adopt into your form. They may save your life.

Miss Martian: I wish we could have gotten along better. But the Red of this world thinks you are part of it regardless. I urge you, learn what that entails.

Rudolf: I'm sorry I'm not the Legion you knew. But you're always welcome in the Mountain.

November 28th, 2010


The funeral had been more simple than most that took place in this day and age, he'd been informed. It was still far more ceremonial than he was accustomed to seeing. His dress fatigues itched, but he ignored it. Compared to the pain using his powers had used to inflict on him, a bit of itching was nothing.

There hadn't been a body to bury. Legion had, most of the intelligence analysts agreed, called upon the powers of Black Adam to kill Longinus, and the effort, combined with the effects of the Spear of Destiny, had been enough to kill him. And to vaporize his body utterly. Only his staff and the melted remnants of some sort of protection charm had remained.

Still. They'd gathered here to say goodbye. Most of them in costume- he and a young woman he could only assume was Giovanni Zatara's daughter were the only ones in anything approaching normal clothing. The mere fact that his own uniform could be considered 'normal' summed up every insane element of this era perfectly in his mind.

Legion had been...not an atheist, but most certainly not a man of faith. There wasn't any real service. Just a few of the ones who'd known him best, speaking about him, in between the bulk of the mountain and the ruins of the town it overlooked.

Rudolf had held his tongue. He hadn't known this Legion well enough to deserve to speak of him.

It was afterward, as the gathered heroes broke apart into their own separate, huddled groups, that he found who he wanted to speak with.

Red Arrow's costume had changed a great deal since the archer had last been seen in public. Heavier armor, and he wasn't carrying a quiver or bow anymore. It wasn't due to some taboo against weaponry that he could tell- several of the other heroes, including Arrow's former mentor, had come armed. More out of habit than anything else- he himself had a collapsible staff underneath his jacket and throwing knives concealed everywhere he could inconspicuously fit them.

The biggest change in the young hero's costume, though, was the mask. Last time Rudolf had seen him, he'd favored a simple domino mask. Now, he wore something distinctly more...birdlike. A dark red, it covered the upper half of his face, a hooked beak jutting out over the nose.

Rudolf wondered exactly what that meant, but decided that at the moment it didn't change things.

"What's on your mind?" he asked politely.

Arrow looked up, expression surprised for just a moment before it shifted back to his usual frown.

"Something doesn't feel quite right," the hero admitted. "Sportsmaster being the mastermind? It's not his style."

Rudolf nodded. "My people agree."

"You mean the KSK, or German intelligence?"


"Hmph. You here to recruit me?"

"No. But I'm willing to bet you'll be looking for whoever's really behind his death. And when you find them? I want in."

"Thought you cut ties with him because he wasn't the friend you'd known."

"He was still a friend. And thousands of Germans died due to John Dee and his ruby. We want our pound of flesh, Mr. Arrow."

"Fair enough. You got somewhere I can reach you?"

Rudolf tossed him a cheap flip phone. "Number's in there."


Rudolf didn't smile. He never had really had the chance before coming here, and the habit of not doing so had long since been ingrained into him by the mere fact of his facial scars, even if they were healed now. But he nodded, and left quietly.

November 22nd

Undisclosed Location

Lawrence Crock was not a stupid man.

The idiot Roman bastard- who had apparently turned out to be the real deal- on the other hand...he most certainly was. Shouting out who he was working for without caring who was listening...it was like he wanted to screw Crock over.

He had a feeling this whole mess was going to end poorly. He'd had it since Jade had relayed the boss's orders to speak with them.

Screw it. The only people actually here were him and Jade. And he knew the girl wouldn't hurt family, no matter what. She wouldn't dare. So if the bosses tried, he could cut ties. Rebrand, if need be- Sportsmaster had only ever been a mask, and if worst came to worst he could simply discard that identity.

So he waited, like a professional, as the various screens lit up.

"Where's Ra's?" he asked, nodding to the one screen that stayed blank.

"Mr. al Ghul is...indisposed," Savage said flatly. "We are not here to discuss him. We are here to discuss your future with this organization, Mr. Crock."

"I did what I was ordered to do. Your candidate just couldn't hack it," he said.

"We ordered you to test the boy, not have him killed," Luthor said. "Perhaps in light of your past efforts at child-rearing, we should have been more specific."

"You used our resources for your petty revenge," Brain's chassis buzzed. "And now, thanks to your poor choice in assassins, we have investigations into exactly how you were able to gather such a force already nipping at our collective heels."

Luthor folded his hands. "Regardless, we've decided it's time to restructure our current organization-"

He shut the screens off with a blip, flashing a hand signal to Jade to follow him.

They were pissed, and they were certainly going to have him killed. Time to go, and-

Cold metal punched through the back of his ballistic vest and into his spine, and he felt his legs go limp, sending him toppling to the floor. How-

"Sorry, Dad. But orders are orders."

Jade. That little traitorous bitch. He'd wring her neck with his own hands, once he-

The screens turned back on.

"Mr. Lawton, if you would do the honors?" Vandal Savage asked.

"Gladly, boss," a Southern-accented voice drawled.

There was a gunshot. And then, for Lawrence Crock…



run: script= _reaction

Administrator was furious.

It had happened again, they/she had been blindsided, another host/symbiote/counterpart lost. And it was far worse this time, because this time the symbiote had spoken to them. Known them, treated them/her as an equal.

run: function= _to_avatar

In the section of the Red that hosted her and her shards, her avatar, forged from remembrance and loss, shrieked in rage, slamming illusory fists into the ground.

Flesh-weaver had been the first, a sudden loss as they were suddenly wiped away in their entirety. Even with that warning, as she and the buds marshalled defenses, the attack had been far too sudden, too unexpected, striking at the sections of them that encoded the symbiote's functions in the periods of disincorporation her power and the Red's managed as one. They'd been forced to jettison the segment, and the backups with it, as the corrupting wave of nothingness had threatened to kill them in their entirety.

This could not stand.

run: core_function=threat_assess/light

The limited elements of awareness available to them told them that the weapon responsible would be secure. The STRUCTURE IMPERATIVE and its chosen host possessed great power in the chosen world, and their use of this universe's physical strangeness was without equal. They would not be harmed again.

But if one existed, a weapon that could threaten her and not just her connection to her symbiote...more could be there.

That, at least, was the justification she gave herself. Her...father's...restrictions kept her from intervening at all unless the Cycle...the corrupted, defunct, and paradoxically foolish Cycle was threatened.

In truth, she wanted the enemy- and she'd find who that enemy was, in time- to hurt. Even with a threat she could not interfere directly...or even indirectly, with her symbiote cast away...but she was not alone.

result: threat_assess=1

run: function=conference

Each of her buds came when they were called. Each donned avatars, in this place.

Waveform, the form of a mechanical lifeform with a purple symbol emblazoned on its chest.

Dominance, the smirking blond female in a similar shade.

Pack-Alpha, an immature female, her pigtails contrasted with a butcher's apron.

Effector, a female in fatigues and a bandanna.

Radar, a thin male twirling a switchblade, a smile perpetually on his face.

Evolution, an older male with greying hair, smiling as well, the sclera of his eyes black and the irises red.

Dispensary, a short and overweight male in doctor's clothing, with an enormous mustache.

run: function=conference_count

result: 7 of 7 present

run: function=conference_call

Dissent, Dominance and Radar broadcast. Blind.

It was true. Precognition and simulation were of limited utility. They had not been designed to take into account the strangeness of this world-set, could not take into account the divergences. She couldn't use them effectively. And thus the two dissenters counselled caution, non-interference. Based upon personality profiles the 'heroes' of this world would eventually uncover the enemy for them.

Still. A few nudges could not hurt. She could not plan them out effectively, but they had symbiotes. While large-scale interference was still locked away by Father's bindings, they had other ways, ways Father had not anticipated, to speak with their symbiotes.


Foolishness, the two, joined by Evolution and Dispensary, broadcast back. Endangering.


run: function=conference_vote

Decision, she broadcast.

The shards made their choices.