Fanfic #158 Reach Heaven Through Justice by IslandHopper(Young Justice/K6BDs)
This fanfic comes courtesy of Should_Be_Working who recommended this to me a couple of days ago, so go thank them!
This fanfic is a crossover between Young Justice and Kill Six Billion Demons following an oc in the world of Young Justice. I really like this fic because of the really interesting mc and the different sides of the characters we get to see throughout the fic.
Synopsis: ???
Rated: M
words: 140k
https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/reach-heaven-through-justice-young-justice-k6bds-crossover-oc.733996/reader/
Here's the first chapter:
GOTHAM CITY
MARCH 06- Evening
Frankie had seen some strange things in his time.
Then again, you don't live on the streets of Gotham as long as Frankie had without seeing things. Frankie had lived through enough that he honestly thought there was nothing this city could throw at him that'd surprise him.
He really should've known better when, on a cloudless night, a bolt of lightning landed in the alley he had picked that night.
He especially should've known better when said lightning bolt- which if Frankie hadn't known better he could swear was pearl white- left a body where it had struck.
The body was that of a man's, drenched in blood, and strange ruined armor hanging off his frame. In the poor lighting Frankie could make out dark skin- kinda Indian or Pakistani-like-
"Jagganoth…"
Good God, he's alive!
"Jagganoth…"
Broken, amidst blood, soot, and cracked concrete, the lightning man started standing up!
"Jagganoth…"
From his lean-to against the alleywall, Frankie could see the now standing man's profile- a face chiselled out of granite, square jawed and prominent cheekbones. Whatever was left of his helmet completely fell off, revealing dark, curly hair. Through the rent armor Frankie could see terrible wounds. Limbs hung limp and twisted. Despite all this, the stranger started to walk. One leg being dragged behind the other. And with each step he kept repeating that… word?
"Jagganoth…"
No. Frankie had been around long enough. He recognized a name and when it was being spoken in hate. Only someonecould be the subject of such rage.
On the third step, the stranger swayed before leaning back and roaring to heavens choked by smog and concrete.
"JAGGANOTH!!!"
And beneath the rage and fury, beneath the obvious physical pain, Frankie could hear another kind of pain. The kind born of loss. A kind Frankie was long familiar with.
It seemed that last exhalation was finally too much for the stranger, whatever will and hate holding him up giving out and letting his body collapse to the ground.
"Shit!" Frankie was old but he was still quick, "I got you man- Goddman." On closer inspection, Frankie realized the stranger was barely that. The man bleeding out in Frankie's arms couldn't have been a day over twenty or twenty-one in the right light. Practically a kid in his eyes, someone who should be in trouble impressing a girl. Not looking fresh from a meatgrinder of a battle.
Even with the thick ozone stench and the blood, after four tours in the United States Marine Corp Frankie recognized the pungent cocktail of ash and sweat that only came from an active warzone.
And there was something else, framed by hair matted down with blood and soot, a dull red gem, little bigger than his thumb, seemingly embedded in the forehead.
"You still alive there Frankie?" A voice rang around a corner.
"Get your lazy ass over here Lou!" Frankie's neighbor this night was a coward through and through, but he didn't hold it against the man. Good instincts kept you alive in Gotham. But Lou was a loyal coward who'd stuck by Frankie through a lot of winters. He was also an extra pair of hands.
"Jesus," Lou exclaimed as he joined Frankie, "Where'd he come from? Didit have summtin to do with that a thunder and flash I saw?"
"Don't matter either way." Frankie adjusted the stranger in his grip, digging through blood and broken armor. "Just help me get him to St. Martha's."
"I don't know Frankie, he looks like he's one of the costumed frea-"
"Lou." Frankie used that tone.
"Alright, alright. I got his legs."
They'd gotten the stranger to St. Martha's, or as it was officially know the Martha Wayne Memorial Charitable Hospital. While that may have been it's official name, the folks the hospital was built for called it St. Martha's.
The doctors and nurses said it had been touch and go. Frankie got the hint that they'd been expecting the worse, what with the wounds the stranger had. And while that Wayne Foundation money kept the place better stocked and equipped than most Charitable hospitals, even that would have limits. But the young man pulled through.
Frankie couldn't get exact details but he knew it'd been bad.
The doctors couldn't make heads or tails of that thing in the fellow's forehead, only that none of their medical devices or x-rays could make heads or tails of it. For now they decided to leave it be.
What also confused the doctors was how quickly he was healing. Bones knitting twice as fast, even for someone young and in their prime- life threatening injuries aside.
Over the next couple weeks, Frankie made it a point to drop in on the John Doe who'd been brought by the lightning.
It was just out of the second week, while Frankie was doing the crossword puzzle that lovely nurse had given him, that it happened.
He woke up.