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*The most obvious thing to do would be to kill her.*
Walking up Kingman’s Bluff, Xander absently grunted, “Another fictional character would’ve used ‘logical’ instead of ‘obvious.’”
*I am not Spock.*
“That was Nimoy’s exact title for his book, right?”
*Do we really need to go over again the fact that everything Xander Harris knows, so does Brainiac 5? And it didn’t stop there,* calmly noted this 30th century native of the planet known as Colu.
The blond young man with green skin and a purple futuristic costume simply nodded in acceptance of that, since he could hardly deny the point, what with an entirely different new personality abruptly materializing inside his head. Unlike every other time, the long-ago Chaos magic had now changed him into a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes while directly experiencing the thoughts and memories of the smartest person in this group.
*More like the entire Solar System and points outward, human.*
“Ego, much?” snarked Xander, rolling his eyes.
*‘It ain’t bragging if you can do it.’ Jay Hanna 'Dizzy' Dean, 1910-1974 CE, American League baseball pitcher.*
“Okay, if your plan is to murder Wils, then how--” Breaking off in mid-sentence, Xander was mentally bombarded during the next couple of minutes with numerous effective plans on how to take the life of Willow Rosenberg, all while using every object presently around himself, down to the small pebble a step forward on the ground that he was about to tread on.
Kicking aside this tiny stone, Xander kept on walking, while evenly saying to the guest in his mind, “No.”
aware that the chances of success concerning your own strategy are inestimable, save for a binary solution: either it’ll work, or it won’t? Should the latter occur, not only shall you die, but also your entire species and the rest of this planet.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Xander musingly spoke out loud, “Hey, here’s a quote for you, since you like them so much. ‘If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.’”
*E.M. Forster, 1879-1970 CE, English writer.*
“Yeah,” sighed Xander, pausing in his walk. Standing there for a few more moments to look up the hill at where his insane childhood friend was waiting for him, the Sunnydale native softly said under his breath, “Listen, mister, it’s not about percentages or calculations or anything else that can be written on a blackboard. It’ll all come down to one simple thing: love. Which you really do know more about than any of your buddies in the Legion might have ever guessed.”
There was no reaction inside Xander’s mind to what he’d just said. Ignoring this to start walking up the hill again, the young man continued speaking to empty air, “Whatever the DC writers came up with in the Crisis on Infinite Earths and the later retcons, you loved Supergirl before that, no matter what, even when knowing how it’d all end someday. Now, somebody I care for is in pain, and I’m going to help her through it, with the only thing I can use, my love for Wils and hers for me. I’m not going to do anything else, and if you don’t like it, then just piss off. Got that?”
A very gentle mental message drifted through Xander’s determined thoughts: *You’ve managed to make yourself absolutely clear. In return, I’d like to say two things. First, good luck. And here’s another epigraph from Forster concerning the proper application of understanding and sympathy: ‘Only connect.’*
*You, too, Xander.*
Still striding forward, a sudden shimmer of white light appeared over Xander’s body, leaving behind his normal human appearance. Doing one last check now that he had his usual clothes back again, the young man touched his shirt pocket, where he felt under the cloth there a small cylinder that was a yellow crayon.
Xander Harris went on in his journey to help his friend. The world could damn well look after itself.