The Legends of Forever Barry Lyga (mystery books to read .TXT) 📖

to the surprise of everyone in the Cortex, Owlman strode in as though he owned the place, with Caitlin Snow at his side. Mr. Terrific and Felicity were at workstations, while Iris and Green Arrow stood nearby. With a smug, satisfied grin, Owlman planted his fists on his hips. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Green Arrow spun around instantly at the sound of Owlman’s voice, drawing and nocking an arrow in less than a heartbeat. He aimed unerringly at Owlman’s head. “If you so much as blink in a way that makes me nervous,” Oliver Queen said, his voice steady and low, “I will put this through your eye.”

Owlman chuckled but—crucially—did not move. “How skittish are the proponents of truth and justice on this Earth,” he said. “You have me outnumbered, on an unfamiliar playing field, and yet you identify as the prey, not the predator.”

“We’ve heard enough about you from the Earth 27 refugees to respect your abilities,” Iris said. “Oliver, can you disable him?”

“Define disable.”

“Guys!” Caitlin shouted, and stepped between Oliver’s bow and Owlman. “He’s really here to save the world. Or at least, that’s what Madame Xanadu says.”

Iris folded her arms over her chest as Green Arrow shifted his feet slightly, repositioning himself. If necessary, he could fire the arrow over Caitlin’s shoulder, ricochet it off the wall, and clip Owlman in the ear. Not fatal, but it would distract the villain long enough for Oliver to prep another arrow and get a better vantage point.

“Madame Xanadu?” Iris asked. “What do you mean? He had a knife to her throat.”

Caitlin shook her head. “That was her idea. She knew we wouldn’t trust Owlman if he just walked in here, so she offered herself up as a hostage in order to give him time to explain.”

“Why didn’t she just tell us herself? Why all the trickery?”

“Because you people need to be duped into doing anything remotely effective,” Owlman sneered.

“You talk like you think you’re the good guy,” Oliver said. “How deluded are you?”

“Deluded? No, I’m precisely as you understand me. I’m the hero of the story—not weak-willed and incapable of making the tough decisions, like you lot from Earth 1. I’m the hero who gets things done. And yes, sometimes people die.” He thought for a moment. Shrugged. “A lot of times, actually. But look at it this way—the refugees were all on Earth 27 and they’d all be dead now anyway.”

“He’s got a point,” said Mr. Terrific.

“No, he doesn’t,” Oliver said, seething. “You think murdering people makes you a hero? Trust me, it doesn’t.”

Owlman inclined his head, scrutinizing Green Arrow. “You know something of killing, don’t you, archer? Too squeamish to keep pulling the trigger, though, eh? I’ve seen it before. It’s always sad when the superior man allows himself to be neutered by the concerns of weaklings.”

“It takes more strength not to kill,” Oliver informed him.

“We could debate ethics and philosophy all day,” Owlman said airily, “and you’d still be wrong. The point remains: You can cling to your absurd morality or you can opt for pragmatism. Which will it be?”

“What, exactly, are you offering?” Iris asked him.

“It’s quite simple—I’m brilliant. I figured out how to open an interdimensional breach from my world to yours, working with substandard equipment under very dire circumstances. I can help you take the battle to the End of Time . . . and defeat the enemy that awaits us there.”

“What do you know about this enemy?” Oliver asked, narrowing his eyes. He had been holding his bow at full draw for several minutes now and showed no signs at all of weakening.

“Madame Xanadu told him. And me,” Caitlin said. “The enemy is a creature at the End of Time. We have to—”

“Didn’t I already put you in the Pipeline?”

It was Barry, returning from Washington, D.C., and the Time Bureau. Just as he phased through the wall of the Cortex, Superman swooped in through the doorway and hovered in the air just over Owlman.

“Hh,” Owlman grunted, looking up. “I know someone just like you.”

“Bruce?” Superman asked, confused.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t lock you up again,” Barry said.

Caitlin clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Will you all just listen to me?” she shouted. “I just watched my best friend get sucked into a breach after we moved heaven and earth to rescue him from the past, and now this guy says he can help and Madame Xanadu vouches for him, and I believe her, so can we please stop arguing and get a move on before Cisco gets killed?”

“I’m sorry, Caitlin,” Barry said soberly. He remembered everything the Earth 27 James Jesse had said about Owlman. The crimes he’d committed. The horrors he’d visited upon the people of that Earth. “I just can’t trust him.”

Owlman grinned. “You’re a fool.” But he held out his hands. “Back to the cell, then. I predict I won’t be there for long.”

9

Joe West heaved out his breath, his lungs burning, his throat afire. He was way, way too old to be running down criminals on the streets, but life had a funny way of not caring how old you were, how much your knees hurt, or how hot the fury of that stitch threading up your side was as you ran.

“GPS has you almost in position, Joe,” Felicity said over the comms bud he wore in his left ear. “Just one more block.”

“Easy . . . for you . . . to say . . .” Joe panted. His tie flapped against his chest as he dug down deep for some more energy, slamming one leaden foot after another on the Star City sidewalk lining the north side of Hester Avenue. Why in the world was he still dressed like a detective? What madness had inspired him to leave on his suit jacket and tie in order to run like a lunatic through the city? He should have put on sweats and sneakers.

According to the S.T.A.R. Labs satellites and some convenient hacking by Felicity,