There were no guardians at the doors of Nanda Parbat. The mountain was apparently guardian enough.
He went into the temple. The monks here were the secret advisers to Batman and Wonder Woman and others just as great. Would they even talk to Booster Gold?
The monk was sitting in one of those yoga postures—adana … asana … something. Michael screwed up his courage and approached the man. The monk looked up at him with serene eyes. Michael held out his hand, the blue beetle resting on his palm. He found his voice, but it shook. “Help me bring him back.”