#75: Deep Red (Part 1 of 6)

CEO and star? Easy. With effortless charm, Catherine ‘Cat’ Grant smiled as the cameras started rolling and started her intro. “Tonight on CatCo 1-- they’re calling it the kiss heard across the world! Two of the founding members of the Justice League, Gotham’s tall, Dark Knight, the brooding Batman, caught locking lips with immortal royalty in the form of Paradise Island’s own Diana, known to the world as Wonder Woman!”

The image played again. Two of the greatest heroes the world had ever seen, that had, unbeknownst to the world at large, grown so close over the last few months, embracing without knowing a camera was on them. The passion between them was electric, something clearly having happened off camera, there being some context, that was missing from the clip being played.

What was missing? After dying during a god-decreed trial by combat, Batman had to be rescued from the underworld by Wonder Woman, who descended into the spectral realm along with other members of the Justice League. They returned, after Ares’ machinations to conquer all of humanity with a brand-new source of celestial power had come to naught. How did Batman die? Well, Wonder Woman killed him, of course, but let’s not get lost in the details…*


“Ugh, boring,” said the viewer. He picked up the remote control and change the channel.

“--Wayne, CEO of Batman, Incorporated, the organisation that funds the international crime fighting crusade of Gotham’s greatest hero, has not responded to requests for a comment, but Superman, caught on camera here after putting out a fire at S.T.A.R. Labs, said the following--”

Cutting to outside the studio, the shaky footage showed the Last Son of Krypton covered in soot, his primary-coloured costume dimmed but never dulled. He truly did look amazing, as if he was carved out of marble. A smile that could calm a raging crowd, eyes that could look through and inside you. Slick black hair, that ridiculous spit curl, and god damn, those eyes; baby blues, brighter than anything. He was taller than most, but he never loomed, never towered over. He was one of you, one of the regular folk. But at the same time… it was Superman, duh.

Someone called out a question that made the Man of Steel turn and look at the speaker. His response was balanced, his expression neutral. Nobody was going to get a rise out of him, and everybody who tried, deep down, knew he was better than that. “Batman and Wonder Woman’s business is their own, it does nobody any good to speculate. If they are together, that’s theirs, and not anybody else’s.”

The viewer rolled his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t sound right, does it? If they’re going to be swanning around in public locking lips and playing tonsil hockey up in all our faces, it’s in the public interest for us to know every sordid little detail…”

Back in the Metropolis, Now! studio, Alanna Moon continued, “Princess Diana’s international speaking tour has been interrupted by a media more concerned with this latest development in her love life rather than her mission of peace, with the Q&A sessions marked with questions about the Batman, instead of the causes she’s hoping to draw attention to. Here we see Diana, wearing a beautiful set of robes, the traditional dress of Paradise Island--

“Do we actually care about what she’s wearing? Let the girl talk! Jeez!” said the viewer. He changed the channel again, easily bored.

“--Could you please confirm the nature of your relationship with the vigilante known as the Batman?”

More beautiful than Superman was handsome, unearthly in how stunning she was in person, Diana was standing behind a podium. Her skin glowed, her smile lit up the room. Anybody who met her, be it man, woman or other, felt themselves fall for her, thanks in part to Aphrodite’s blessing, but also due to the fact that she was an amazing person, through and through. She was patient, understanding. Every question was answered with complete honesty and patience.

Wonder Woman smiled calmly. “I’m sorry, but I’m here to discuss the work of the foundation, not--”

“Do you condone his vigilante actions?” asked another journalist.

“I--” Before Diana could get out an answer, another question was thrown her way.

“Do you know who it is under the mask?”

Wonder Woman opened her mouth but then closed it immediately. She realised within a moment that as much as they wanted answers, they also wanted to ask all the questions in their head. So, let them wear themselves out, let them flood the room with enquires. Get that out of the way, then get back to the message.

“Does your commitment to the truth end when it comes to secret identities?”

The viewer turned off the television set, and dropped the remote on the floor, preferring to start shadow boxing the air in front of him. “Ooph, what a cheeky little rabbit punch, right there, in the ribs. Don’t be a hypocrite, Lady Di. You’re better than that. Then again… maybe you’re not. I guess it’s time to find out.”

JUSTICE LEAGUE

BURNLEY DISTRICT, GOTHAM CITY:

Dozens of mysteriously super-powered children had been snatched from their families due to the machinations of Doctor Psycho, who had been masquerading as S.T.A.R. Labs founder Harrison Wells*. It had been a tumultuous time, indeed.


It had taken an accident, a coincidence of Aquaman-- whose own psychic powers paled in comparison to the psionic villain’s own-- being in Psycho’s presence and picking up that something wasn’t quite right, for the plot to be discovered, and even then, the Guardian and Hawkman, as well as the King of the Seven Seas himself, were put through the wringer before they made it out the other end*.


Now, Hawkman had to live with the consequences of his actions during the time that he had been under the thrall of Doctor Psycho, believing that their mission-- assigned to him by Harrison Wells prior to the swap-- was altruistic. Instead, he’d been bringing the super-powered children to the villain’s parlour, where he’d been training them as an almost paramilitary force. But to what end?

Katar grimaced as he remembered the diminutive monster’s rasping, grating words, “You won’t even know what hit you… All of you… you’ll… you’ll never see them coming now… they’re here… they’ve been here forever… and they’ve won… you’re dead and you… you just don’t know it yet…”

And when they’d found Harrison, imprisoned in one of his own laboratories, he said that Psycho had ranted and raved, telling him, “The children are our future, and what’s the point of ending the world if it’s not liveable in afterwards?"

So, where was Katar Hol now? When he wasn’t flying around as part of the Justice League, he worked as a consultant for S.T.A.R. Labs, security mostly, but also handled esoteric situations that his unique status in the world gave him scope to solve. One element of that was checking in on the children they had managed to return to the parents that had been forced to forget their existence.

Reintegration seemed easy enough. S.T.A.R., under Psycho’s direction, had managed to obfuscate the children’s true identities, and it wasn’t like they were being paraded out in public, so no one asked any questions. A simple-- yet heinous-- hypnotic suggestion to the parents and they were more than happy to relinquish parental control. That faded eventually, and missing persons came in, but when the parents couldn’t remember the exact details of when their young child went missing, or the circumstance behind it, it made those parents look less like victims and more like perpetrators.

Thankfully, the Justice League had prevented anything worse than momentary police confusion coming down upon the families. Parents were reunited with children, and families were restored to their rightful places.

Out of costume and dressed in as close an approximation of human fashion as his girlfriend, Kendra Saunders-- Hawkgirl-- could manage to get him wearing, Katar paid visits to the families, interviewing parents, checking that the prescribed power inhibitors were doing their jobs. The youngest of the children was six, the oldest thirteen, and having superpowers at that age was practically asking for trouble, especially if you weren’t running side-by-side with the Teen Titans or even Young Justice.

Everyone was more than happy to see him, though disappointed he wasn’t wearing his wings. His Justice League and United Nations IDs granted him special privileges with the authorities, and his S.T.A.R. Labs credentials sealed the deal.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, waving at the kids and nodding at the parents of the latest family he had come to interview.

Gene Hopkins patted his wife on the shoulder and watched his children run into the kitchen. “Let me walk you to the door,” he replied.

The pair headed out of the lounge, down a corridor, and to the front of the house. “As ever, if there’s anything you need, you have the direct line to S.T.A.R. Labs outreach program, and they’ll get in touch with me if the situation warrants. Your children are healthy, Mister Hopkins. I’m happy for you.”

Gene scratched the back of his head, moved his weight from one foot to the other, and then finally said, “And I, well, I just wanted to say again… Thank you. We owe you so much. We thought… we didn’t… you brought our little girl back to us. There’s nothing I can say or do that… that really does justice to what you’ve done for us.”

“I wish I could have done more, sooner. But I’m glad you’re doing well. Don’t hesitate to call if you need something. You have a friend in S.T.A.R. Labs for however long you need us.”

He shuffled out of the house and down the darkened street. Another happy family. He was almost jealous. He was the product of an affair between one of the elite houses of Thanagar and an Earth-bound hero with ties to both worlds’ ancient pasts. He hadn’t known his father until later in life, and his mother had painted a rather misleading picture of their relationship.

He was in Gotham. He could say ‘Door’ and step from the city to Laputa, or back to the Esoteric Research and Investigation Centre in upstate New York where their investigation into the children’s strange abilities was centred.

Instead, he chose to walk. It had been so long since he’d walked the streets of any city, and he wanted to appreciate this opportunity before it was snatched away by whatever crisis would strike the Justice League next.


“…Are we going to talk about it?” asked Aquaman, looking his wife up and down.

The wind whipped around them, the snow churning up a vicious, white storm as they trudged toward the city limits of the New Khera colony. This was the place that the last survivors of the Kherubim race had settled after the pocket dimension they’d been imprisoned in had burst open, and the ancient, alien city stuck out in the desolate snowfield like a black spot. That, along with the overbearing midnight sun beaming down; Arthur didn’t know how anyone could get used to living in such a place. But he had other concerns.

“Talk about what?” Mera queried, not fazed by the weather and an amused smile on her face. “This?” She gestured down to the new costume she wore, swirls of blues and white that seemed to shift and ripple depending on how your eyes caught it. “Just something I’m trying on for size.”

Arthur could always tell when the love of his life was playing a game with him. “Mera…”

“Tsk. Okay, fine. I don’t think ‘Aquawoman’ is for me. It’s derivative, and I feel like I’m, well, what do they say on the surface? I feel like I’m cosplaying my husband.”

“‘Cos-playing’?” repeated Arthur.

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You know, dressing up as you. Not dressing up as myself. I think it’s time I came up with my own name. My own identity, something I can own completely.”

He nodded, understanding completely. If he hadn’t been stuck with the label ‘Aquaman’ he would want to step away from it too. He ran a finger down her arm, examining the swirl of colour that followed where he had traced. “It’s one of the old survival suits, isn’t it? Tidal camouflage and internal hydration linings…”

“Vulko had the Smiths’ Guild put it together for me. It’s beautiful, I think.”

“It really is. So, ‘Aquawoman no more’?”

He loved her, more than anything, and he knew her mind like it was his own. If she had said it, a decision had been made, it was hers to follow through on, and his role was simply to support her throughout. A task he’d gladly undertake time and time again…

“Why over complicate things? I’m Mera. You’re Aquaman. Isn’t that enough?”

Aquaman put an arm around his wife. “Whatever you want, I’ll have your ba--”

Their discussion was interrupted by the appearance of the Kherubim sentry, who stood at the opening to their city that had only become visible when they got close enough to be addressed by the guard.

It was a large, alien structure comprised of numerous twisting buildings that jutted out of the tundra, capable of housing the hundred or so female survivors of their former leader’s rampage.

The Kherubim had erected a force-shield around the entire city, and the only entrance was this gateway, manned by a single guard-- though, if she was anywhere near the same fighting prowess and enhanced strength demonstrated by their leader, Zealot, then one warrior would be enough.

“Your majesties. Welcome to New Khera, it is our honour to host a royal envoy in our halls,” she said, bowing slightly.

Instead of a formal acknowledgement of the bow, Mera extended a hand toward the guard. “The honour is all ours. I am Queen Mera of Atlantis. This is my husband, King Orin.”

The soldier, wearing the ancient and ceremonial armour of the Coda, considered the offered hand, unsure of what it meant, but then slowly took it, to which Mera responded by clasping both her hands around the guard’s and bowing her own head.

“Please… follow me,” the guard said, and the Atlantean royals were led inside New Khera.


Across the universe, accessible by interstellar flight or the convenience of a universe-spanning Boom Tube, floated a lush azure and emerald orb, which, if you looked under the surface, would reveal a vast technological marvel, a wholly artificial planet that had the ecosystem and atmosphere of a truly real world.

In their final battle mere months ago*, Darkseid was defeated thanks to Superman’s intervention and Orion survived to fight another day, but he knew that Exodus could no longer be a nomadic place that the New Gods piloted rather than thrived upon.


Using the powers of Highfather, he terraformed the artificial world and declared it ‘New Genesis’, in honour of the world the New Gods lost in their war with Apokolips!

Now Orion was simply the New God of War, and the staff of Highfather was lost in the ether, awaiting its time to be held by the next leader of the New Gods.

Scott Free, long absent from the ranks of the New Gods due to his responsibilities on Earth as Mister Miracle, walked across the lush hills to where Orion stood. He hadn’t been here since the transmutation of the artificial world and marvelled at the wonders he had witnessed so far in his hike to where his brother waited. He had seen birds-- actual birds-- flying overhead, and he knew that previously that would have been unheard of on the artificial planetoid the New Gods had risen from the depths of Earth’s oceans to pilot.

He pulled himself from his amazement, appreciating what little distraction that allowed from the reasons for his journey here. Orion was stood on the edge of a treacherous cliff, overlooking the crashing waves of the crystal-clear seas below. The wind buffeted them gently, but the Dog of War didn’t seem to care.

“I knew you’d come,” Orion said, slowly.

Free wasn’t dressed for a show, while Orion was already ready for a fight. He sidled up next to his brother and managed a smile. “The Source tell you that?”

“The Source doesn’t talk to me much anymore… not since I relinquished the responsibilities of Highfather. But, no. Lightray let me know you were headed down from Supertown. It’s called a radio, Scott.”

“You’re saying I should have called ahead?”

Orion shook his head and turned to face his brother. “I’m saying you should have called me as soon as Barda passed. I’m so sorry, Scott.”

Compassion was never one of Orion’s strong suits. He was forged in the unrelenting fires of Apokolips, son of Darkseid and Tigra, but tempered by the mercies of Genesis.

That said, he and Scott shared an inextricable bond, brothers by pact and circumstance, and even though they had nary spent more than a few hours together, that link, their mutual fathers, meant something more than either could explain.

“‘Passed’? Oh, no, Orion. Barda ascended. She relinquished her physical form to save Earth, and it’s up to me to find her now, and bring her back. To help her escape whatever realm now holds her.”

Orion’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“She’s my heart. She’s my everything. I know she’s not gone, and even if she was, she wouldn’t stop until she came back. You know what she is. And you know what I am. You know that combination spells trouble for anyone who gets between us.”

Orion placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “No one has ever come back from this. Even Izaya…”

“Our father had no reason to come back. He set us on the right course, and it’s up to us to stay on it. But Barda… she’s the god of defiance, as you are of war, as I am of escape. The only thing I need is your help, Orion. I haven’t communed with the Source in so long, that I don’t know where to begin to ask the questions that I have.”

“I may no longer be Highfather of New Genesis, but I still remember a thing or two about communion with the Source. Let’s head to Supertown and get to work.”


Whistling as he towelled himself dry after a long, hot shower, Bruce Wayne entered his bedroom only to find an uninvited guest combing through his bookshelves. Bruce wore nothing but an Egyptian cotton towel but showed no sign of embarrassment or fear. Instead, he simply stopped whistling, and continued to dry off.

“You never used to whistle when you bathed in my chambers.”

Standing in front of one of numerous bookcases with her back to him was a beautiful woman. Exotically stunning, her genetics a mixture of Middle Eastern from her father and the French of her mother, her skin glowed in the warm afternoon sun that pierced the windows.

She wore a white blouse, open down to her cleavage-- every part of this woman a weapon when used right, including her sexuality-- and black trousers. Her boots had heels. Probably a weapon hidden in the stiletto. Nothing too extravagant, but highly effective nonetheless.

“Not even a hello, beloved?”

Talia Al Ghul, the Demon’s Head, while her father Ra’s was off the board.

“Perhaps if you had come invited,” Bruce replied.

“There was a time that invitations didn’t matter between us. I would come to you, you would come to me, to both our mutual gain. But alas, it’s been too long since we’ve been in each other’s presence.”

“The last time we saw each other, you helped me take down your father*,” said Bruce.


He moved into the middle of the room, positioning himself so that Talia was still a distance away from him. She still had her back to him. He pulled on some underwear, keeping his eyes on her, then a pair of trousers. At least he wasn’t going into a prospective fight in just a towel, but if he had, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

Talia continued to browse, continued to speak softly in that intoxicating accent of hers, “And such a shame that time spent separate has been. You’ve been keeping busy, of course.”

“Of course.”

Talia flicked through the pages of Miyamoto Musashi’s ‘The Book of Five Rings’. Her father had an original manuscript in the original Japanese back in his library, but she admired Bruce’s hand-written annotations in the borders. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this room in the daylight.”

“Talia…”

She turned, feigning surprise. “Oh, yes, you’re currently involved, aren’t you?”

“Why are you here?”

Talia placed the book back on the shelf carefully. “How is my father?”

“Contained.”

“I wonder how long you’ll hold him.”

“Are you intending to change his current circumstances?”

“If I wanted him out in the world, he'd have been wandering its streets by now. You wouldn’t even know.”

“What are you doing here, Talia? Why now?”

Bruce saw Alfred Pennyworth standing in the hall, holding a taser he’d taken from the Cave. The sub-audio alarm had more than likely gone off, identifying an uninvited presence in Wayne Manor through the numerous microphones hidden in every nook and cranny they could think of installing them. He had come prepared to take down the intruder, but with a quick nod, he knew that everything was under control, and silently walked away.

“Your scars… they’re all gone*,” noted Talia, finally giving him her full attention.


She sounded surprised, and her eyes drifted across his muscular, defined torso where there had once been numerous scars and contusions from the life he led. Now, there were none. A blossoming bruise under his arm where he’d taken a low-velocity round the night prior, but no deep scar tissue, no burns, nothing to indicate his life had been one trauma after another.

“Talia…” pushed Bruce.

“We were married in the eyes of the League of Assassins, before you turned your back on my father. Can’t a wife visit her husband?”

Her hand drifted to where she had once seen her father stab him. Her fingers were warm against his chest, but he wasn’t going to fall into any trap she might be planning on setting for him. He grabbed her by the wrist, and held her hand up. “Whatever unholy ritual bound us together when I was broken means nothing. You know that. Your family’s obsession with me needs to stop. I was never your father’s heir and I will never-- ever-- be your husband. ‘Detective’, ‘Beloved’, those pet names are nothing but weapons used against me by you and your father.”

She snatched her hand away from him. “Do your former lovers mean nothing to you then, now that you have your Wonder Woman? What would Julie say? Your dearly departed fiancée*?”


Bruce took a step toward the window. “Don’t. Don’t mention her. Don’t even say her name.”

Julie Madison. She was the love of his life, and the Joker killed her*. They had just returned from a skiing trip to the Alps. She was beautiful, funny, and clever… and Bruce had loved her. Loved her more than anyone else in the world. He had almost given up his oath and retired as Batman, but then she was stolen from him when the Joker slaughtered his wife-to-be and dozens of others at the fundraiser in the Chateau Desris.


Bruce had truly thought he could escape the shadow of the identity he’d built to keep him safe from the darkness inside him. He thought he could escape the shadow of the bat. But the Joker stole everything from him. Dozens dead, Julie caught in the crossfire, and he was cursed to be the Batman until his dying breath. No rest. No respite.

She was dead, not because of some connection made by the Joker between Bruce Wayne and the Batman, but because she was there when the Clown Prince of Crime was in the mood to kill, after he’d already beaten Batgirl and Robin half to death…*


After her death, he drove his adopted family away from him. Ever loyal and stubborn enough to refuse to leave even if he was asked, only Alfred remained behind in Gotham City, while Robin left for New York and eventually adopted the identity of Nightwing, and Batgirl journeyed to Las Vegas and joined the Outsiders, later becoming Batwoman.

Those were grim times indeed for the Dark Knight. He thought he might never see the light again, but with Diana coming into his life… the relationship blossoming there…

Talia shook her head disdainfully. “Precious of some but not the other. You really are a damaged little man, aren’t you? Regardless, I apologise. I shouldn’t have invoked her name. But… aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been?”

“If you wanted me to know anything about you, you’d tell me,” said Bruce.

He tamped down on the anger bubbling up inside him. It would do no good to allow it to get the better of him.

She playfully brushed her hair behind her ear. “Would I?”

“You are your father’s daughter. I know as much about you as you allow. All the years I’ve known you, you’ve rarely let your mask slip, and I’ve rarely sought to look beneath it. We both know who we were when we met. Nothing’s changed.”

“When we met, you weren’t the Batman, you weren’t the Detective, you were just… Bruce. Are you still the same man you were then, so raw and angry? Am I still the naïve girl you manipulated into betraying her father in the shadow of the Lazarus Pyramid?”

“…Where have you been?” Bruce finally asked.

“Now you’re interested. When my father ‘died’, I left Gotham and was taken captive by the Joker*.”


“I told your adopted son what happened, but not you*.”


Bruce bristled. “Dick told me.”

Talia laughed. “He told you? Did he? Did he tell you how the Joker hijacked my plane and drugged me? He killed my bodyguards-- he thought I was paralysed-- at his mercy-- and I don’t remember much after that-- the plane crashed-- I escaped with a parachute-- and you’ve never had to worry about that grinning freak since--!"

It was true. It had been years since the Joker was sighted, and Bruce had hoped that his foe had blown himself up or crossed the wrong member of the criminal element. He wished that someone had done the thing that he himself could never bring himself to do… and he hated himself for it.

Talia shivered, the emotion of her words momentarily getting the better of her. She pressed on, regardless. “Thanks to my upbringing, I made it out alive, but barely. Your Julie met her end at his hands, didn’t she?” She leaned in close to Bruce, her warm breath against his cheek as she whispered harshly into his ear. “Another love lost at the hands of the lunatic you refused to deal with properly. You make a bad habit of losing your loved ones at his hands. You lost me that day. You didn’t even look for me. You didn’t even think to look. So, I thought, with your most public declaration of the relationship you have with the Amazon, I thought a reminder was in order: You lose everything. Time and time again. And you will never be happy.”

Bruce held her at arm’s length and saw the barely restrained animal fury in her eyes. He could hardly blame her. She wasn’t wrong, in her own, twisted way. Instead of threats, or violence, he simply said, “You need to leave.”

Talia smiled and headed for the door. “I think I will, yes. But remember. Nothing lasts forever. And your immortal girlfriend? Maybe this’ll be the one who outlives you. Or maybe she’ll figure it all out and get out. While she’s ahead.”


They’d been out shopping all day. A break from the normal routine of diplomatic visits and charity events, the two sisters had been up and down the capital, from Covent Garden to Mayfair, and had returned to Themyscira House with bag after bag of clothing.

The sisters laughed and drank prosecco together, enjoying the break from the super-norm of their day-to-day lives. When others would go to work from 9am to 5pm, they had to fight monsters from other worlds, creatures from mythology and gods with nothing good on their celestial minds-- and fit in whatever day jobs they had as well.

They’d finished trying on all their purchases and were now lounging about on the array of sofas in the apartment Diana kept on the uppermost floors of the embassy*.


The private elevator pinged and out walked a brunette, her eyes searching the large, open-plan residence for her boss. The doors closed behind her, and she began to search for Diana. “Madame Ambassador? Do you have a minute?”

Popping her head up from where she was laying, Diana beamed. “Of course, Amy. We’re in here!”

“Hey, Amy!” said Donna, waving from the other side of the room.

Tucking her clipboard under her arm, the brunette clicked her fingers and pointed them at Troy with a smile. “Heya, Don. Looking sharp.”

Troy waved her away. “Oh, you.”

Amy Danielewski had been on the staff at the New York embassy since it had opened, and when the offer came through, she agreed to come with Diana when they opened the London branch.

Donna had known Amy since the young princess herself had left Paradise Island; she knew about the hardships Amy had experienced, but she seemed to be stronger, more grounded, than before. Diana had mentioned the recent ‘crisis of faith’ that had struck the world had hit Amy particularly hard, but she was back on an even keel, for which the Princess of Themyscira was eternally grateful.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” asked Diana.

Amy pulled out her clipboard and trailed her finger down the notes she’d made. “I just spoke to Doctor Tate at BESI, they’d love to host you next week.”

“‘Bessie’?” asked Donna.

Diana laughed. “Bee-Eee-Ess-Aye. British Experimental Science Initiative; they’re like a really polite S.T.A.R. Labs.”

“Amazing,” laughed Donna, leaning back on the sofa.

The doors to the private elevator pinged again, and when they opened-- and the three women looked to see who it was-- they were surprised to see Steve Trevor, smiling to himself.

“Hey, Angel. Got a minute?”


“Human to cyborg.”

Victor Stone flexed his flesh-and-blood hand and watched as the nanites that made up his overhauled and revamped body transformed into metal.

“Cyborg to human.”

In the mirror, he watched as his face went from human to cyborg and back again, his upgrades giving him full control over his appearance and the mechanics of his body. He had died-- or come as close to dying since the initial accident that first led him down the path of becoming the man he was today-- due to the actions of his girlfriend’s mad-scientist father*.


First, he’d lost the surviving remnants of his human form when carrion creatures from a cosmic pantheon of gods he couldn’t begin to understand tore him apart-- he still remembered the feeling of tooth and claw stripping his flesh from his cybernetic chassis*.


That had, of course, taken its toll. Having the last vestiges of his human identity taken from him left him adrift, and it had taken Angie’s no-nonsense attitude to pull him out of his despondency.

Without her, he’d still be a shell of his former self, but thanks to her quick thinking and proficiency with programming nanomachines, her father’s plans to transform the unknowing and unwilling population of Las Vegas into a race of cybernetically enhanced beings was derailed-- and the only victims had been him and herself.

“You’re still playing around with it?” she asked, rolling over in their bed.

“It’s so strange,” he replied.

She held out her own hand and watched as her skin was silently subsumed by a silver sheen of nanites, then back again. She’d been in the control room of her dad’s laboratory when it flooded with nanites. She’d reprogrammed them to her specification, using her own skill and ingenuity to ensure that something good could come from her father’s bad. Just like Vic, she too was a next-level superhuman now. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Everything I imagine, I can become,” Vic said, standing up. He wiggled his human fingers and watched as each digit began to spin and transform into a futuristic combination that lurked in the recesses of his mind. “All the stuff that got stuffed in my head after we helped the Legion…* I can finally do something with”


“Well, don’t forget,” she pulled the bedsheet off herself, and his attention was immediately all on her, “there’s plenty for you to do something with here.”

He relaxed, and his body reverted back to its human form. “Oh, yeah?”

That was life now. Flesh and blood, whenever he thought it, and then what he’d taken to calling his ‘tank’ form, when the time called for it. Not that he was in any danger when in human form-- he just wanted to try and get some semblance of a civilian life back. If you shot him when he was flesh and blood, the bullet would simply enter his body painlessly, and then either be cannibalised for fuel or stored for forensic investigation later.

“You’re in your head. I can always see when you get stuck in there,” said Angie, leaning forward and brushing his chest. “Is this what it was like for you before? I can feel everything. Hear everything. All the electronic signals bouncing over our heads from satellites, the entirety of the internet just a thought away…”

“Yeah, kinda. Before it was… almost distorted? Like I could hear it all, but unless I focused on it, I didn’t understand it? I think we’re… processing everything. Instantly. And it’s scary to think what the implication of that might be.”

“Okay, sure, but how about this?” She kissed his chest, and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Let’s focus on the here and now, for the time being… and worry about tomorrow… tomorrow?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” he asked, leaning over to meet her lips.

“…I have a few ideas.”


James Harper had never been in a hospital before that had radiated such happiness. The staff who greeted him when he exited the elevator to visit his daughter on the cancer ward were beaming, and as he walked past the rooms, nary a sick person was in sight.

“It’s all… it’s all thanks to you, sir,” said one of the nurses, wearing a party hat. “The drug trial from Aleph has worked across the board. I’m hearing similar results from hospitals around the country that were chosen for it. I’m speechless. Has the hospital administrator spoken to you?”

“He has, yes,” he replied.

She was effusive, talking with her hands, animated and enthusiastic in equal measure. “Just… wow. Wow! Unprecedented! A near-universal cure for cancer of every type and at nearly every stage! The implications!”

Harper smiled, then gestured to his head. “So I’ve been told. The hats--?”

She looked up, momentarily confused, before realising she was wearing the hat. “Oh! Ha! We’re having a celebration. You have to understand, we’ve never had anything like this happen to us before.”

Harper nodded. He’d made a deal with the devil. That’s what it boiled down to. He’d made a deal with the devil and the world was better for it, but every inch of his skin crawled at the thought.

He’d heard on the grapevine some months ago that Aleph Pharmaceuticals had come up with a cancer-treatment drug that looked promising, more promising than anything available at the time. His daughter had made him promise to keep his world-- that of super soldiers, superheroes, supervillains and super medicine-- out of hers. If it was her time, it was her time, but he found out about an actual treatment, something that could help without the need for god-intervention or mystic-enchantment…

And so, he asked and received. Not only did his daughter get the treatment, but so did the entire hospital-- every single man, woman and child-- free of charge. A pilot scheme. And it worked. Across the country, every hospital that ran the trials of Aleph’s medicine reported full remission. The final reports had yet to come in, but from what Harper understood… a zero-fatality rate for all those who underwent treatment.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it when he saw who was calling on a secure line. “Mister President,” he said, excusing himself from the nurse who’d been walking with him.

“James, every single time we talk, we go through this whole rigmarole. Call me Jeb. You knew my pappy. You’re like the strictest uncle I ever had. You’re family.”

“What can I do for you, Mister President?” asked Harper.

“Old habits, I suppose… well. I wanted you to come in. I know you’re busy with your work with the Justice League, but I’m hearing some rumblings on the hill and I don’t like the direction they’re going.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, rumblings. After the Russia debacle last month, it looks like the hammer is going to come down on you, and I want to make sure you’re out of the splash zone. Poor choice of words, I suppose. But yes, can you come in? Today?”

“I’m visiting my daughter…”

“…Say no more, James. Say no more. I want to see you today, but family always comes first.”

“I appreciate the heads up, Mister President. I’ll touch base soon. I should be free this afternoon.”

“Make the time. It’s in your best interest, old friend.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Stuart ended the call and Harper stood there for a moment, dazed by what he’d just heard. For President Stuart to call him personally meant it was important and that meant--

“--ooph--!”

He accidentally bumped into a frazzled-looking man, and with a quick glance at his ID he could see that this man was Anton Jeffers with S.T.A.R. Labs. He’d heard his name bandied about in conversations with Angie Spica. Apparently he was a big shot in the realms of metahuman physiology, not that they’d ever met before.

“Excuse me,” said James, apologetically.

“No, no, sorry, I’m so caught up in my work that I didn’t-- hmm. Sorry,” said Jeffers.

“What’s S.T.A.R. doing here?” he asked.

Jeffers gave him a dark look. “Who’s asking?”

“Colonel James Harper. With the Justice League. You can call me Guardian,” said Harper, holding up his identification in one hand and offering his other out for a shake.

“Oh, you’re a superhero. Great. Well. Last time I saw a superhero I nearly died, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t stick around*…”


“Is everything all right? With the patients, I mean?”

Jeffers sighed. “That’s why I’m here. They’re better than fine. Aleph’s drug trial is mind-blowing in its success, but there’s more to it than that. Those who’ve undergone treatment are better than they were before. One of the patients grew his tonsils back. It’s utterly bizarre. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Doctor Jeffers!” said the nurse who’d been leading Harper through the ward. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to wear a party hat?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Jeffers replied. He mimed a spiral next to his head and rolled his eyes at Harper, then hastily exited.

“What about you, Mister Harper? You’re basically our guest of honour,” said the nurse, gesturing toward him with a hat.

“No, I won’t be here for long, but thank you,” he replied.

“Suit yourself! Doctor Carroll will be down soon, I know he wanted to see you today. Let’s get you through to your daughter’s room!”


Even when she was Firehawk, Lorraine Reilly felt that flying under her own elemental powers from place to place in a non-heroic capacity-- e.g. getting from her apartment to her place of work-- was an unnecessary luxury, of which she rarely took advantage.

Now that she was Firestorm, that sentiment remained the same. She was content to enjoy her civilian life to the utmost, all the while somewhat dreading the time spent bound with Professor Stein in the Firestorm Matrix.

She entered the empty lecture hall and smiled when she saw who she was looking for. “Hey there, Poindexter.”

“Lorraine? Is that you prowling around at the back of the classroom? Typical…”

Wearing a smile that could melt even the hardest exterior, Jason Rusch was a few years younger than Lorraine, in his early twenties, but had a level head on his shoulders and had always been kind to her. He split his time as Stein’s assistant and his studies, with the proviso that he be allowed to do so if his grades didn’t drop. Since his time working under Stein, his GPA had increased, much to Lorraine’s amusement.

She made her way down the aisles and the pair embraced. “What brings you to Hudson? Is the professor--?”

“No, no, I’m not here for him--”

“Then, Ronnie?” he offered.

Jason had been assisting Stein with a project at the campus lab when Ronnie had stumbled in, screaming about how “They’re inside me. They’re inside me, and they won’t shut up.”

The doctor described the wounds on his body as self-inflicted. Fingernail gouges on his face and arms. Like he was trying to pull something out of himself.

Jason and Ronnie had never been close. They had, at times, been at each other’s throats, but no one deserved to go through what Ronnie had.

Right now, the young jock was hooked up to various machines in the New York branch of S.T.A.R. Labs, each device pumping substances in and out of his frail body. He didn’t look like the Ronald Raymond either of the pair knew, but then again… he was dying. How could you expect someone to look like themselves in the face of that?

“Jason… I’m here to see you. You’ve been dodging my calls,” said Lorraine.

“No, it’s not that, I’m not avoiding, or, uh, dodging, it’s just been so busy.”

“Listen to me. I just wanted--” She reached out to touch his arm, and when her skin met his, veritable, literal sparks flew. They both backed off from each other, surprised by the electric charge that they had just experienced. “What was that?” she asked.

“I-- I don’t know! Weird! Should we-- ” Jason returned the gesture, but once they touched each other again, there was nothing. He was left holding her hand, she took a step forward, and he was suddenly very nervous. “Lorraine, I…”

She leaned close, and began to speak quickly, “Listen. Ronnie and I aren’t together. Not anymore. We broke up. He was him and I was me and it wasn’t working. And you’re… you’re you. And I want--”

“Lorraine! I didn’t know you were here!” said Martin Stein, entering the lecture hall from the back room.

The moment between Jason and Lorraine was broken, and they separated quickly, awkwardly backing away from each other as Stein absentmindedly approached, seemingly not noticing the tension between them.

Lorraine smiled. “Just thought I’d pop in. Had a half day. How’s things?”

“Good! Good! I actually wanted to speak to you. Do you want to come into my office?” he asked.

“Sure. Uh. Jason… we need to catch up properly, okay?” she said.

With Martin’s back turned, Rusch mimed the sparks that had burst from their skin on contact, a confused expression plastered to his face. She shook her head, and mouthed ‘I don’t know!’, and then vanished into the back corridors of Hudson University with Stein.


A pair of uniformed police officers dragged their handcuffed suspect up the steps of Gotham City’s central police station, mumbling to themselves about their suspect’s petty yet blatant theft of their car’s lights a few hours earlier.

“Can you believe this guy?” one said.

“God damn balls on him,” said the other.

“You think this is funny, you little freak?”

“Kinda,” replied the suspect, who received a shove for his smart mouth.

Hands deep in his pockets, Katar Hol stood at the foot of the steps leading to the front door, considering his situation. He’d not set foot inside a police station out of uniform for some time, but some of his best years on Thanagar were spent stationed in Thanagar’s precinct houses, almighty towers with their bases in the dregs of the streets of Thalsalla-- his home world’s capital-- and towering all the way up to her spired heights. Top to bottom, an intersection of Thanagar’s civilisation, with all the good and bad that came with it.

“You all right there, man?” asked a woman who came up behind him.

He instinctively glanced down at her belt buckle, where he noted a detective’s shield. “Yes, thank you.”

Ever so subtly, he took his hand slowly out of his pockets, scratched his nose with one and ran the other through his hair. Nothing in his pockets, not hiding anything, not a threat…

“You’re kind of loitering on the steps there…” she said, her words drifting off into the realm of a suggestion.

She had been scoping him out, he could tell that much. He forgot how different things were in Gotham to the rest of America, and the world. For all the super-freaks that ran rampant in the States, they ran harder and hotter here, so seeing a stranger on the steps of police headquarters was probably something to ring some alarm bells.

Katar nodded at her, made a noise of acknowledgement, and headed up the stairs, and into the bustling reception of Gotham Central. He went up to the receptionist, and said, “Hello. I’m looking for Detective John Jones.”

The pink-haired young woman looked up at Katar Hol through her unnecessarily large glasses and was at a loss for words for a few moments, before gathering herself. “Oh, uh, well, hello, he’s, ah, uh--”

“Oh, you’re one of John’s pals? Second today,” said the female detective who’d met him by the stairs, as she followed up behind him. “I’m Montoya, his partner.”

She extended a hand and he took it. “Katar.”

“Carter?” she repeated, his accent just off enough so she wasn’t sure.

“Yes. I’m in town so I thought I’d pop in and see him. I know that’s not normally--”

She chuckled. “Like anything that man does is normal. Yeah, he’s with someone else at the minute, from his old job, he said. C’mon. I’ll walk you in.”

They moved past the small wooden gate that fenced off the entrance to the building and the detective’s bullpen. She took the lead, but walked slow. Katar could guess why.

“So, where’d you know John from?”

And there she went, fishing for details on an impossible man’s life. Ever since John had been stuck in human form, without access to any of his vast Martian powers*, he’d been policing the streets of Gotham in a civilian identity that evolved with him through the years. Being a founding member of the Justice League meant that credentials and authenticity could be provided by the click of a button, but they’d built a backstory for the man in case of these kinds of situations.


“Midway City. Met him when he just got his detective badge,” Katar replied.

“Oh, yeah? And when was that?” she asked.

They were outside the family room of the precinct. Montoya stood between Katar and the door, waiting for an answer. “I was just a kid. He helped me out when--”

The door to the family room opened, and John stood there, his brow furrowed. “I thought I heard your voice.” The two old friends embraced, and Montoya shuffled backwards, out of the way. Katar looked over John’s shoulder and saw Kimiyo Hoshi, better known to the world as Doctor Light, sat nearby, and she immediately stood up when she saw him.

“Katar!” she exclaimed.

“You all know each other, then,” said Montoya.

“What a pleasant surprise. Two old friends in one day,” said John.

“I’ll leave you to it, man. But remember, we’re on the clock. If Sawyer sees you slacking…”

“…You’ll cover for me?” John offered.

“Yeah, I guess I probably will,” said Montoya, heading away.

“Come in, Katar.” John closed the door after Hawkman entered, and the three old friends were alone together. “Now, what brings you to Gotham?”

“Work for S.T.A.R.; listen, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting-- I should have called ahead--”

Kimiyo shook her head. “No, there’s nothing to apologise for, I was just talking something out with John.”

Katar smiled. “Still everyone’s padre, John?”

“Just because my body changed, doesn’t mean my heart has.”

Hoshi laughed, then a solemn look spread across her features. “To be honest, I just wanted to get his opinion on something. Ever since Ted and I left the team, I thought things would be easier*. I’m teaching, he’s… working, but it’s so strange.”


Blue Beetle and Doctor Light, along with the Atom, had left the Justice League at the same time. The latter two because they had commitments to Ivy Town University, and the former because of everything he’d gone through at the hands of Ma'alefa'ak, J’onn J’onzz’s twin brother.

Ted had his entire identity violently stripped away by the sadistic Martian’s psychic powers, and it had taken Booster Gold journeying into his best friend’s mindscape to restore him, but the events had revealed things about their friendship that tore them asunder. Ted left with Kimiyo, the couple relocating to Ivy Town to get away from the rigours of life as a core member of the Justice League.

“What’s strange about it?” Katar asked.

She sighed. “It’ll sound so stupid. He’s working for the government on something and he’s sworn to secrecy. He’s travelling the world, working until the early hours when he’s home, and he won’t even talk about it.”

“I mean, if he’s signed an NDA…” Katar said, understanding where Ted was coming from.

“I know, I know, but when has Ted Kord stayed quiet about anything?”

“This is true,” said John.

“Hmm. Have you tried--” Katar caught himself. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place. You know what, I’ll go. I’ll head back to Laputa and--”

There was another knock at the door, and the trio were half-expecting to see Ray Palmer standing there or something, but instead it was Montoya. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. John, we just got a call from Arkham Island. Something weird’s going down, and Sawyer wants us to head over there and check it out.”

Once, Arkham Asylum had been based on the hilly outskirts of Gotham City, a madhouse overlooking an insane city. After its destruction during one of the numerous rampages of the psychotic men and women who more often than not called it home, Wayne Enterprises rebuilt it on an isolated island off the city’s coast. Then, it had been known as New Arkham. But as with most things in Gotham City, the shine eventually faded, and now it was simply Arkham island. And who’d want to visit there willingly?

“…Weird?” asked Katar.

“I’m sorry, but this is police business--” started Montoya.

Katar pulled out his credentials. “I’m a security consultant and field operative for S.T.A.R. Labs.”

“And her?” Montoya said, gesturing to Kimiyo.

“I’m Doctor Light,” Hoshi admitted, flexing her fingers and transmuting her civilian clothing into her black and white costume.

“Jeez, turn that down,” said Montoya, covering her eyes. When the glare faded, Renee looked at John curiously, as if trying to unpick why the African-American police detective, in his mid-fifties, had ties to S.T.A.R. Labs and the superhero set. “Uh, I mean…”

“My identity isn’t widely known, but it’s no secret. I don’t wear a mask,” said Kimiyo.

“And you know her how?” Montoya asked Jones.

“From my old job,” Jones answered. “I’ll grab my coat and run it past Sawyer. If we’re going to Arkham, I wouldn’t mind the assist.”

Montoya moved out of the way as Jones rushed past her, and when he was out of earshot she leaned over to Katar and asked, “Is he a superhero or something?”

Katar glanced over to Kimiyo, then shrugged. “Not that I know of.”


Shortly after their arrival, Orin and Mera were led to what could have been considered a throne room. The chamber was vast, with seats arrayed in a spiral around the central position. Stood there awaiting her guests was Zannah, leader of the Coda, better known by her title of Zealot.

“Welcome to New Khera, the last colony of the Kherubim. I am Zealot, leader of the Coda, and representative of our people,” she said, bowing simply.

Mera smiled. “A pleasure, my lady. I am Queen Mera of Atlantis, and this is my husband, King Orin.” They both bowed, and then stepped forward. “We thank you for your invitiation to join you in your kingdom. We welcome you to Earth, though I am sure you have been welcomed here already by other parties who have visited your city. You have come so far and been through so much… to have experienced all that and still want to become part of the world is admirable.”

Zannah smirked. “We were left with little to no choice, after the tesseract bunker fell. And now, the armies of Earth are uneasy at our presence…”

“No armies stand against the Kherubim. Princess Diana of Themyscira and I have made sure of that. You are welcome. We consider you a friend,” said Mera.

“And your talks with the Prime Minister of Canada have been fruitful?” added Orin.

“Prime Minister Ledbedder has been very helpful. We’re currently in the process of discussing land rights with representatives from her government and, I believe they’re called, the Tunngavik Federation of Nunavut… the representatives of the indigenous tribes of this land. Our position is… uncomfortable to some. But I have ordered our best minds to begin the process of technology exchange. If we can provide the Canadian government and the Tunngavik peoples with something that makes this situation less untenable, and much more worthwhile, then this land becomes ours.”

“What is it you’re hoping to share with them?” asked Mera.

“Nothing dangerous. Environmental control systems… devices to assist with farming. I’m aware that my dearly departed Majestros repaired the damage to the ozone layer of this planet in his spare time. Things of a similar trend. The world should be better for our presence, never worse.”

“Admirable,” said Aquaman.

“I have a question,” Zannah said, after a pause.

“Go ahead, please,” Mera said, beckoning the conversation forward.

“Queen Mera, I have noted that you have taken the diplomatic lead in discourse upon your arrival here, but in my studies of your culture, there is a… patriarchal trend that suggests that King Orin is usually the one who drives these types of discussions forward. Why is it that you have been the one to step forward in this case?”

Mera smiled. “I’ll be honest with you, Lady Zannah… the kingdoms of Themyscira and the unified nations of Atlantis are very close. Diana explained that yours is a matriarchal culture, very much like her own. It only seemed polite not to shove my husband in your face.”

Aquaman exhaled a low whistle. “I wouldn’t have put it that way.”

“It was an effort toward diplomacy, and cultural understanding,” said Mera. “I hope you do not take offense.”

“This is a new world to us, your majesty. We need to be forward thinking if we are to become part of it. I appreciate the gesture, but you needn’t coddle us-- not that you were. I appreciate the in-roads being made by Princess Diana and yourselves. We wish to be recognised on the world stage, and begin building bridges and rebuilding our culture. We wish to make our global position very clear.”

“And what position is that?” asked Aquaman.

“I want a peaceful life, your majesty. I want to never draw my blade again,” Zealot replied, mournfully. “But the history of our people has been one of conflict… forever and eternal. I wish to leave those days behind us.”

“Then let’s journey into that future together,” said Mera.

“A world without war… the dream of the Coda fulfilled,” replied Zealot.


“Is this… what I think it is?” asked Scott, utterly astounded by the sight before him.

Stood in the chamber at the heart of Supertown was a singular, unassuming wall. Except, with every other heartbeat in his chest, it thrummed with power, vibrating at a frequency high above this universe’s own.

Orion nodded solemnly. “I found it in the depths of Exodus when we left Earth. It is eternal. Part of the power that I once held in Highfather’s staff before I sacrificed it all to bring about the birth of New Genesis.”

“My father spoke of it… the remains of the Third World, the last standing wall of an entire reality.” Scott brushed his gloved hand against the chalk white barrier, and sparks flew from his fingertips.

“Yes. All that and more. If the Source is willing, and our intentions true…” Orion reached out…

And a flaming hand manifested before the fragment of the Third World, a single finger unfurling into a point. Words were scratched into existence by this apparition, and a glimpse into the future was given…

SHE LIVES!

Scott exhaled in relief. He had hoped. Prayed. But this affirmation…

BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR HER TO BE FOUND!

“No…” whispered Scott.

"The Source gives us irrevocable counsel,” said Orion.

Scott swung around, grimacing. “But it does not decide! The right of choice is ours! That is the Life Equation!"

“It is not yet done…” said Orion, looking past his brother and back at the wall.

EARTH IS UNDER THREAT!

“What is this?” whispered Orion.

A HIDDEN THREAT LOOMS TALL!

“The Source is telling us the future…” said Scott

NOTHING ESCAPES THE TIME TRAP!

Orion didn’t know what to make of it. “Time trap…?”

EVEN THE SOURCE CANNOT SEE BEYOND IT!

He shook his head. “How is that even possible?”

THE GREATEST HEROES THE UNIVERSE HAS EVER KNOWN…

“It’s still writing…” noted Scott.

…WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH!

The hand closed into a fist, and then vanished, leaving the words hanging there on the final fragment of the Third World. A few moments later, they were gone, faded into the ivory barrier, their meaning unclear, their impressions stuck forever in the minds of Orion and Mister Miracle.

“What does it mean?” asked Orion.

“I have to get back to Earth. And you… prepare the armies of New Genesis. I get the feeling the Great Darkness has yet to fall… but it’s coming, brother. By the Source, it’s coming!”


“…Is this a bad time?”

“I answered your call, Ted. If it was a bad time I would have ignored it,” replied Bruce, typing something into the massive super-computer situated beneath his familial manor.

The call came through on one of the select private lines to the cave that Bruce had created across the years. You’d call, get put through to a very unassuming voicemail, and if your number was recognised and the voiceprint you left valid, you’d either speak to the Dark Knight then and there, or he’d call you back as a matter of priority.

Ted Kord was one of the few men and women in the world to have such a phone line. And even though he left the Justice League under less than positive circumstances, he’d always have an ally in Bruce Wayne.

“I know it’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to bring your attention to something. A project I’m working on.”

“The president’s super-human research commission,” said Bruce.

“You’ve heard?”

“I have.”

“Ha! Why am I not surprised? Yeah. I’ve been running around doing some work for the president. The pay is good and the job’s interesting. But the thing is... I could use a consult on this latest project I’m on, and I thought you’d be the best person to ask.”

“I’m in the middle of something at the minute, Ted. But once I’ve wrapped this up, I’ll check in with you. Send whatever you can to the private server.”

“Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret it.”

Ted ended the call, leaving Bruce to consider the security footage from earlier that day. “I can hear you stewing, Alfred. Say what’s on your mind.”

Pennyworth took a step forward and cleared his throat. “Master Bruce, you seem rather nonplussed by Lady Talia’s incursion into our home.”

“She set up a short-range baffler that fooled the sensors. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Some sort of alchemical substance. I’ve packaged up a sample to dispatch to Jason Blood. She was here. Now she’s not. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get in again.”

“But your conversation with her…” started Alfred.

“She was trying to make me doubt myself. My actions. It’ll take more than that to make me second-guess myself.”

“And what of Lady Diana?” asked Alfred.


“Hey, Angel. Got a minute?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Steve Trevor walked into Diana’s apartment and took a look around, looking as casual as one could under the circumstances.

“Steve…” started Diana. She looked over to Donna, and gave her a look.

“…We’ll, uh, give you the room,” said Donna, climbing off the sofa and making a beeline for Amy. “You were going to show me the administrative offices, weren’t you?”

“Nope, but I can,” replied Amy, as the pair shuffled past Steve and into the elevator.

As the doors closed on them, Donna started to mouth ‘What the actual f--’ at her sister, but the elevator sealed shut before she could finish her sentence.

“It’s not like you to come into places uninvited, Steve,” Diana said.

He shrugged. “Well, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised. What brings you to London?”

“You, obviously. And this latest story doing the rounds in the media.”

She shook her head. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“You are my business. This whole superhero thing, that’s my business. I’m in charge of making sure this whole mess of a situation, up in the skies, doesn’t come crashing down on us folks walking down the street. And time and time again, wow, does it crash.”

“Why are you here?” Diana repeated, her tone clipped.

“You’re shacking up with Batman? That’s… wow. Mind: Blown.”

“I don’t see how my romantic life has anything to do with you.”

He bristled. “Oh, it doesn’t, not at all, but I came to warm you-- the whole weight of the United Nations, Checkmate and all, is about to come crashing down on you like you come crashing down on us. Catastrophically.”

“Does this have something to do with Temho-Metya*?” she asked.


The Justice League had physically taken an entire Russian prison into custody, after they stumbled upon its true purpose as a slave farm centred around the recreation of super weapons that were then shipped around to parts unknown by Xotar, the Weapons Master. They had another puzzle thrown into their lap, and a third of the pieces were missing.

After calling in the White King of Checkmate, Steve Trevor, to help stave off an international diplomatic firestorm, they’d hoped that questioning the prison guards would reveal the truth, but the guards all died violently, and the prison sank with Checkmate personnel on board. The Black Queen of Checkmate, Valentina Vostok, also present, had vowed there would be repercussions from the events of the day-- Had that started?

“You’re damn right. The United Nations are arranging a meeting with all representatives. The Russian contingent are fuming. You kidnapped their nationals and then executed them. That’s what they’re trying to spin it as. As much as you and I know that’s bullshit, they have a strong argument to make, and they will be heard.”

“Then I shall be heard as well.”

“Themyscira’s ambassador… their disgraced princess… isn’t invited,” said Steve.

“…You know.”

“I’m the White King of Checkmate, Diana. Every piece of intelligence in the world passes over my desk. Yes, I know…”

It really was black and white when it came to Checkmate. There were two royal families. Black King and Queen-- Nemo Perkins and Valetina Vostok-- were in charge of operations, while the White King and Queen-- Trevor and Catherine Cobert-- oversaw intelligence. You couldn’t authorise an operation without intelligence, and intelligence couldn’t authorise an operation without doing their due diligence, so there was a careful balance between the two royal families.

What did Steve Trevor, Checkmate’s White King, know?

Diana had declared for Ares. To save the world, she’d dedicated a murder-- the death of her love, Bruce Wayne-- to the God of War. Of course, her Dark Knight hadn’t stayed dead, she’d made sure of that, but her words had repercussions… and with Hippolyta back from the land of the dead and back on the throne-- for the short period of time before her sisters voted to introduce a constitutional monarchy-- she had to make a decision.

And that decision? Simple: Diana was no longer welcome on Paradise Island. She had to do her penance in Patriarch’s World, acting as ambassador while demonstrating that she could live up to the values of her home. To prove herself worthy of the blessing of Athena, and the belief of her systems. Or maybe it was for Diana to prove it all to herself… one more time*.


“…A token gesture, one last gift from mom before she sent you packing. Not much of a punishment though, right? When was the last time you spent more than a couple of hours on Themyscira--”

“Don’t you dare assume to know my heart on this matter-- or any matter-- Steve.”

“C’mon, Angel. I know it better than most--” He reached out to idly move a strand of hair from her eye, but she flinched, and nearly slapped his fingers clear off. “--But yeah. I’m sure you’re hurting. You always did take these things harder than most.”

“Why are you here, Steve?” Diana asked, again. There was steel in her voice. Or the best she could muster.

“I came to give you a warning. The Justice League’s time is coming to an end. One more mess up and the United Nations will pull their operational sanction from you, and this globe-hopping adventure you’ve all been having at the world’s expense. It’s over. Checkmate have already been tasked with preparing contingencies. Super-policing, like we were mandated to do back when President Lord ran the show, back when we were a US-sponsored organisation.”

Diana’s brow furrowed. “You seem to be telling me more than I really should know, given my position in all this.”

“Because I don’t want you to go down with the ship. Come back into the fold. I got you that job with the DEO*…”


Diana almost laughed. “You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious. They pay me to be serious. Come in and be my Bishop. I need someone I trust.”

“You lost your last Bishop*.”


Steve dismissed her point with a wave of his hand. “And I’ll find him. But I could use you on my team.”

She turned away from him, shaking her head. “You can’t think I’d abandon my friends.”

“I don’t know why you do half the things you do. You were raised on an island full of immortal female warriors. I can’t begin to imagine your life, or what’s going on in that head of yours. That was always part of the problem.”

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, only for her to pull away.

“That? That was the problem?”

He smiled sadly. “You’re a myth, Diana. You’re mythic. How can I ever compete with that?”

“Don’t,” she said.

“Angel--” He took a step forward…

And she took a step back. “Don’t call me that! You don’t have the right!”

“Yeah? After everything we had together?”

She shook her head. “Steve, you broke up with me because of your insecurities-- your issues-- not mine. I gave you everything. Everything! And it wasn’t enough for you, and…. and that’s fine. I know your heart is in the right place, it always has been. But it was a mistake for you to come here. My heart doesn’t belong to you anymore. So, leave.”

“Diana…”

“And I’m moving forward. I’ve moved on. You have no right to come to me with this.”

“You’re misunderstanding--”

“I. Understand you. Clearly.”

Steve smirked and headed back to the private elevator. “The Justice League is a sinking ship. Water’s already leaking in. Make a decision: Get off while you can or go down with it.”

Diana watched the doors close. They opened almost immediately afterwards… and Steve Trevor was gone.


“Holy crap, we are so late,” said Angie, scrambling to grab her underwear from the foot of her bed. She looked to Vic, who suddenly had the same thunderbolt of realisation hit him. “I know!”

“We were going to New York!” said Vic, slapping himself in the forehead. He caught the pair of briefs Angie threw his way, and they got dressed, laughing at the sheer human inanity of it all.

“Harp’s going to kill us,” said Angie. She looked at herself in the mirror, and saw how wild her hair had become during the last day and a half’s worth of exploration of their abilities. She concentrated, and the nanites in her bloodstream flexed their powers and she giggled at the way her hair straightened. “I could write an entire journal on how you can compare the nanotechnology in my body with dry shampoo.”

Vic pulled on his shirt and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a mad genius.”

“I really am.”

They stumbled out of her bedroom, and immediately bumped into Mister Miracle, who was headed to his own room further down the hall. “Hey, guys,” he said, pulling off his mask.

“Hey! Scott! You’re back from New Genesis?” asked Vic.

“Yeah.”

“Did you find what you needed?” Angie said.

“And more. Say, where’re you headed?”

“Guardian wanted to flex our new powers and look into his daughter’s miraculous recovery. We’re a walking medical research lab, among a raft of other things, so it makes sense to put our two and his two together, and see what the answer is,” replied Vic.

“Huh. Want some company?”

Angie’s brow furrowed. His wife had died a matter of weeks ago, and he seemed oddly serene about the whole thing. For all his talk of her celestial survival, it didn’t put her mind at rest any. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t,” said Scott. His Mother Box pinged repeatedly, and his bright costume transformed into a casual set of civilian clothes. “Shall we?”


Suddenly being part of his daughter’s family was a blessing to James Harper. They welcomed him with open arms, and after the shock of his perpetually youthful appearance faded, the youngest of the lot started peppering him with questions that he was more than happy to answer. They weren’t close to exhausting him, but their parents were feeling the strain, so they headed to the canteen, still wearing their party hats.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” said Marjorie, his elderly daughter.

“I am too. Now, I know I mentioned it to you yesterday, but some of my friends are going to drop in later, and they want to do a few checks on you.”

“Checks? You never mentioned any checks,” said Marjorie.

James held up his hands. “Just to make sure you’re okay!”

“You said that this whole thing was above board! That it wasn’t tied into your… your lifestyle.”

“It’s not. I mean that. But it’s amazing, and when amazing things happen I want to make sure they’re not too good to be true. That’s why they’re coming.”

“Uh, that’s why we’re here,” said Angie, standing in the doorway. “Hello-ooo.”

Harper smiled, trying his best to appease the situation. “Marjorie, this is Angie. She’s a really good friend of mine. And this is Victor-- and Scott. I didn’t realise you were coming, Scott.”

“Hello, my dear,” Marjorie replied, extending a hand toward Angie. “Dad has told me all about you.”

“Really?” Angie was taken aback.

Marjorie laughed. “When he’s proud of something, or someone, he doesn’t really shut up about it. Or them.”

Angie looked at James. “You’re proud of me?”

“You are pretty fantastic,” said Vic, placing a hand on her shoulder. Without looking up at him, Angie’s fingers found his, and Marjorie smiled at the gesture.

She said, “Oh, I see why he likes you both so much. And Mister Free, I’m so sorry to hear about your wife.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Scott, waving her off. “She’ll be back. At some point. Not soon, but eventually.”

“I… but… what?” said Marjorie.

Angie was just as confused, and wanted to move away from Scott’s weirdness. “Listen, I know that this whole thing is crazy big, but we were hoping to just take a blood sample.”

“Can’t the hospital provide you with one?” asked Marjorie.

“We wanted to go straight to the source. Just in case of contamination, you know?” said Vic.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ve been poked with enough needles to last me a lifetime, but one more won’t kill me.”

She extended her arm, and Angie turned away from her for a second, forming a syringe from the nanites that existed within her body. Turning back, she took a sample, and then put a small ball of cotton against the puncture point, before taping it down.

“And we’re done!” said Angie.

Vic leaned over to James. “I can see we’re not going to be entirely welcome here. We can head back to Laputa and process the sample there. No biggie.”

“So, now that you’ve taken something from me, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Angela dear?” said Marjorie, patting Angie’s hands.

Spica chuckled. “Oh, well, where to start?”

“You stick around, and I’ll get to work on this,” said Vic, kissing Angie on the cheek and taking the blood sample from her. “Give me a call if you need anything.”


“So… how are you feeling?” asked Martin.

He closed the door after she’d entered and headed behind his desk. The office was full of whiteboards covered in equations and formulas, things that Lorraine only half-understood when Martin was riding shotgun in her head.

“Good… good… why?” she asked, clearing a chair of papers and settling in semi-comfortably.

“Well. Funny story. Quite funny. Your concerns regarding the Firestorm Matrix causing similar problems to those which affected Ronald…”

“Which you told me were unfounded,” said Lorraine, leaning forward. Had he lied to her?

“Well, not unfounded, but, eh, unlikely. But I also know the way your mind works, my dear. I know the way things play on it. So, I did some tests. You remember the biometric scans we took?”

“The ones you took every Sunday since we started teaming up?” she replied.

“Yes. Full body scans to chart the effects of prolonged Firestorm Matrix exposure. Something I was never able to do with Ronald-- something I never thought to do. But if I hope to make scientific advancements using the science behind the Matrix, I need to be more considered in my approach, so--”

Lorraine slammed her fist down on the desk. “Martin. Professor. The point. Please.”

“How old were you when you had your appendix removed?” he asked.

“Professor…”

“Please, please, humour me,” he replied.

“Seven.”

“Would you be interested to know it’s growing back?” he asked.

“I… wait, what? How? What? What?”

“Your appendix is growing back. Your scar is still there, but I project that continued symbiosis within the matrix will cause that to fade away. Your body is being rebuilt every time we combine. It’s amazing. I donated a kidney to my brother, years ago, and all the connections have begun to grow back. We’re returning to our default settings, it seems.”

“What’s the implication?” Lorraine asked.

“With continued study, we can apply the healing properties of the matrix to compatible hosts. With more work, and I’m going to contact Professor Gray at S.T.A.R. shortly, but with my work and more time, I’m confident we can heal Ronald of his mysterious ailment. We can arrest his physiology and return him to peak health!”


“I am not happy about this intrusion,” said Doctor Jeremiah Arkham, as the group of men and women met him in the bowels of the facility. They’d made their way through the upper levels, descended through intake, and were now in the serious-case wing, where he’d waited for them.

Flashing their badges to get where they needed to go, Jones and Montoya had taken the lead, while Kimiyo was back in her civilian clothes at the recommendation of the former. John said that costumes made the inmates play up, and from what Bruce had told her before, she couldn’t help but listen to the instructions given. Katar was wandering behind, taking in the facilities. He hated it down here. Cooped up and with little to no natural sunlight getting in. He felt like a rat in a maze and it made his skin itch.

“If I remember rightly, ever since Wayne Enterprises pumped cash into the Arkham brand and revamped your facilities, it’s not really your place to be happy or not, Doc,” said Montoya.

Jeremiah pulled a face. “I don’t care what their upstart temporary CEO Dick Grayson did, back in the day*. I am still the administrator of the facility.”


“All right, all right, let’s take a step back and all get our bearings, all right?” said John.

“Hmph. If your partner can keep her comments to herself…” mumbled Arkham.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to holster them,” said Renee. “Your call said something about problems with a cell?”

“The bloody door won’t open! It’s jammed! Normally, I’d be able to contact the technicians and get it resolved without hassling our beloved Gotham City Police Department, but one of the rules installed by Wayne Enterprises is that anything like this has to be reported to the authorities before anyone even tries to fix it. A bloody waste of time!”

“Doctor, how many times have the inmates taken advantage of something like this to escape?” asked John.

“…Enough times,” replied Jeremiah.

Jones nodded. “Seems prudent to have such a rule in place then, doesn’t it?”

All Arkham could manage was another, “Hmph.”

“Whose cell is this?” asked Katar.

Pulled from his bad mood, Arkham looked back at the looming figure of Hol. “Hmm? Jervis Tetch. The Mad Hatter.”

“And he’s still in there?” asked Kimiyo.

“Take a look for yourselves.”

Jeremiah pulled down the shutter of the cell, and they all peered in.

Tetch looked back at them, curiously. “Have I gone mad?”

“Yes, he’s in there. We did, of course, check that first. Jervis is a model inmate. There hasn’t been a reported bout of violence for some time now.”

“‘Reported’,” echoed Montoya.

“There’s something wrong,” said Kimiyo.

“Yes, you’re holding up my technician!” said Jeremiah.

“No. Shush. Quiet.” Kimiyo looked back inside. “Mister Tetch?”

“What is the hatter with me?” he replied.

“Uh, okay. Umm…” She cleared her throat, and in a deep voice, said “‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe; all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe’!”

Tetch shook his head. “We’re all mad here,” he said, simply.

“There it is! He’s not real!” Kimiyo declared

“That behaviour is not abnormal, miss. He’s sitting right there,” replied Jeremiah.

“Katar, the door-- please?” said Kimiyo.

Arkham rolled his eyes. “The lock has fused! He’s not going to be able to open it any more than--”

Hol nodded, and the shaft of his mace slipped from his sleeve. He caught it before it hit the ground and, in one smooth flick, the head of the weapon extended out from the tip, crackling with the inherent energy within Nth metal.

“H-How did you sneak that past the guards?”

Katar shrugged. “Snicker-snack.” He swung it back and caved the door in, causing it to fall flat in front of Tetch, who covered his head and began to mutter to himself, agitatedly.

“No room! No room!”

“It is getting crowded in here,” noted Montoya.

“It’s about to get a lot less,” said Hoshi. She waved her hand and Tetch flickered and vanished. “He was a hard-light projection. Shaped photons. I’m sorry, but you’ve got a prisoner out of his cell.”

“I-- I need to put the facility on lockdown!” said Arkham, shuffling out of the room and rushing to the control hub down the hall.

Hol looked up from where he was crouching. “The lock mechanism has been fused for some time. Something seeped into the moving parts… He’s long gone…”

“We need to contact Batman,” said Hoshi.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay, so your other friend is a superhero-- Mace-Man, or something-- and the Mad Hatter is loose? Why is today getting so weird, Jones?” asked Montoya.

Jones grimaced as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Because we live in Gotham, Renee.”


“Welcome to our home away from home,” said Mera, as she stepped into the aviary that sat atop one of Laputa’s twin towers. The view was spectacular, giving anyone sat inside a 360-degree view of the vast seas all around them.

Zealot was amazed. “This is… marvellous. The artificial environs of the tesseract bunker mimicked Khera, and our new situation is wonderful in its own way, but this… this reminds me of home.”

“I’m glad you think so. Follow me,” said Mera.

“What about your husband?” asked Zealot, looking back at Arthur as he stepped through another portal leading to parts unknown.

“We’ll pick up with him in a bit. But first…”

They continued to chatter idly as they moved through Laputa, until they arrived in the residential area where Justice Leaguers had chambers they could relax in. Some team members lived on the island permanently, while others had rooms maintained to crash out in when needs must.

“…Laputa was originally designed as a mobile city-state, a portable refugee camp that could house displaced persons in warzones. Designed by some of the greatest minds the superhero community had to offer and manned by a full support staff that are now based on the mainland. Accessible by the Door technology we utilise, or by the teleporters we keep active. The two towers house residential areas, medical facilities… there’s a hangar at the base containing numerous cross-species vehicles, from Martian bio-ships to Atlantean tidal bombers, and the aviary is always a nice place to start the tour…”

“Why are you showing me all this?” asked Zealot.

Mera smiled and came to a stop outside one of the closed doors they’d been passing. “Well, to lull you into a false sense of security more than anything. This is Majestros’ old room. We kept it preserved after his passing. I thought you’d like to see it.”

“M-Majestros?” Zannah whispered.

Mera opened the door, and gestured for Zannah to enter, and when she did, her eyes opened wide. Burned onto the metal of the ceiling above the bed was a perfect portrait of herself. There were other images of her on every wall, along with the cityscapes of their long dead world. And written in a minute, alien language, across every surface not already scoured with an image of the love of his life, was the entire history of the Kherubim, from inception to supposed end, when the planet Khera fell.

“This is… this is…” she stuttered.

Mera smiled. “It’s yours, if you want it. We can bundle up the entire room and deposit it in New Khera. We thought you’d like to have it.”

“I have no words. I can only thank you. Yes. A million times, yes. This is…” Her hand brushed against one of the walls, as she found a passage about Lord Majestros’ first meeting with the Coda, and their favourite daughter, Zannah. “Thank you.”

Mera stepped out, giving Zealot a moment alone in the room, when Cyborg walked by.

“Hey, Mera. Didn’t know you’d be about. Thought you were--” Vic looked past her, into Majestros’ room, where Zealot was standing. “-- Oh. I’ll leave you to it! I’m just headed to the aviary to think some things through.”

“Everything all right?” Mera asked.

“Better than all right. Best I’ve ever been. I’ll speak to you later, but give me a shout if you need anything,” he said.


“Do you want a hat?” asked Laurie, one of Harper’s great-grandchildren, a precocious six-year-old who had been handing out party hats to everyone who’d walked by today.

“Oh, I guess, it couldn’t hurt, could it?” said Angie. She tipped her head forward, and the young girl put a hat on her head. Catching a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror, Angie preened comedically. “I think I look quite dashing, don’t you?”

“You look great!” replied the child.

Angie laughed and mussed the girl’s hair up, only for a transmission to break in on the nanotelepathic wavelength the Justice League used to covertly communicate. {Angie, this is Hawkman. We need you on Arkham Island, at the following coordinates. We’re running forensics on a breakout. I’d like your eyes on this.}

{What does Batman say?} asked Angie. {He’s usually quite territorial…}

{We’ve cleared it with him. Get here ASAP.}

Across the room, the Guardian gave her a nod of approval, and she began to make her excuses.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my darling. I have to run!” Angie removed her hat and placed it on top of the little girl’s head, so she was now wearing two. “Wow. You look amazing!” She headed into the bathroom, said ‘Door’, and vanished from New York.

A nurse popped her head in and smiled. “I’m sorry, folks, but Doctor Carroll is here, so I’m going to have to pull Mister Harper out for a few minutes. He wanted a private word.”

“Everything okay?” asked Marjorie.

“Oh, of course! Nothing to worry about!” replied the nurse, leading James outside. “He won’t be a moment, he’s just wrapping something up. But-- oh, here he is!”

Harper had wanted to speak to the doctor for a while now, but he felt like Carroll kept ducking his requests, but when the diminutive man who emerged from the nurse’s station made himself known, he finally knew why.

“Mad Hatter--!” Harper bellowed, diving forward-- only for a nurse to step in front of Jervis Tetch-- this caused the Guardian to pull his dive at the last minute so he didn’t break her in half with his shoulder.

Tetch giggled. “I’m so glad you could make it. I have so many things to tell you. So much I’ve had planned. It’s an ascension, you see. A graduation. And it’s all for you!”

Harper looked up from where he’d collided with the nurse, and grimaced. He was about to stand, when the nurse wrapped her hands around his throat, and began to throttle him. “Don’t-- you-- hurt-- him--!” she seethed.

“Wh-what?” growled Harper. He realised something that should have struck him as soon as he entered the hospital. She was wearing a party hat. They were all wearing party hats! And that meant--


The transmission ended, and Batman considered what he’d just been told. The Mad Hatter had escaped from Arkham Island some time ago, and Doctor Light and Hawkman, along with the former Martian Manhunter Detective John Jones and Renee Montoya were on the scene, with Angie en route. What had he said?

“I trust your judgement. I have to deal with something, but as soon as that’s resolved, I’ll touch base with you. And Kimiyo… it’s good to have you back on board, in whatever capacity you feel comfortable with.”

“And what now, Master Bruce?”

“Please deliver this to Jason Blood’s townhouse downtown,” Bruce replied, handing Alfred the package he’d prepared with the alchemical substance Talia had used to fool the manor’s sensors. “He knows the drill by now.”

“Hasty services rendered increase his substantial pay cheque, and helps him support his immortal life style. Oh, yes, I do remember my numerous chats with Mister Blood.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” said Bruce, placing a hand on his oldest friend’s shoulder.

“If I may say so, Master B-- ” He paused, and then nodded to himself slowly. “If I may say so, Bruce, I’m… exceedingly happy with the position you currently find yourself in. I didn’t think you’d find happiness. I sometimes suspected you actively fought against it. But your relationship with Diana has… it’s been a breath of fresh air. I feel like it has revitalised you.”

“Is this about the costume?” Bruce asked, looking down at the uniform he wore.

The cape and cowl, gloves, boots and trunks, were all pitch black. You couldn’t see the folds now, it appeared like a fanged shape, something to scare the cowardly and superstitious more so than ever before. The main body of the costume was grey, but the main difference was the oval surrounding the black bat symbol on his chest. It was pristine white, and while it wasn’t as colourful as previous incarnations of his suits, it popped in a way that none had before.

“No, it’s not about the costume. I want you to be happy, Bruce. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. And this crusade of yours… while I understand your drive, and don’t necessarily agree with it… I’ll always support you, no matter what. But I refuse to see any world where this is what makes you whole. Love. Family. A future is borne of those things.”

Bruce placed a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “I’m a very lucky man, despite everything that’s happened. I had a family until it was snatched away from me. And through everything, I’ve a new one. I’ve been blessed by two dads in my life, Alfred.” He embraced Pennyworth, like a son would a father, and then pulled his cowl on. “I have to go now. There’s work to be done--”


--Batman stepped through the translucent orange portal that made up the Justice League’s instantaneous teleport system and arrived in the reception hall of the recently established Themysciran embassy in London, England.

Sat on a sofa, a pile of books on the table beside her, Diana was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. When she saw him arrive she smiled, placed a bookmark in her current read, and stood to greet him. Even in civilian clothing, she looked beautiful.

She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and he flinched, ever so slightly, as her lips brushed against his skin. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He turned away from her, trying to think of how to explain. “I’ve… had an interesting time of it, since we were outed.”

Diana’s interest was piqued. More from his reaction to her kiss than his words. “What happened?”

Batman had his back to her, but he quickly turned, and began to undo the latches at the base of his mask. He removed the cowl, then the cape. He didn’t want to be wearing the accoutrements that came with his profession during this conversation. The armour weighed heavy on him. Within seconds, he had removed the upper armour from his torso, leaving him in the grey bottoms and a black vest. His gloves, utility belt, all placed on top of his costume.

Bruce put out his hands and took Diana’s into his own, and the two sat on the sofa near the window. He knew that every entrance to Themyscira House was enchanted. Nothing could be seen inside unless Wonder Woman wished it, and while he didn’t entirely trust magic, he understood that there were things in this world he couldn’t control, and he had to allow himself to trust those who knew more about it than he.

“I know I’m not as… open… as I should be, and I want to… I want to rectify that,” said Bruce, slowly. “Did I ever tell you about my fiancée? Julie?”

“I know of her,” said Diana.

She knew that she’d died at the hands of the Joker. Those of the Justice League, those of them in the superhero community that knew that the Batman was Bruce Wayne, knew about the Joker’s killing spree that led to the fracturing of the relationship between Gotham’s protectors. Those wounds had healed, but it was a dark cloud over the history of the Dark Knight.

“I nearly retired because of her. I thought I found… peace. And all the work I’d done as…” He looked over to his cowl. “…As Batman… seemed to pale in comparison to what I found with her. I focused more on being… being Bruce Wayne. And not the Bruce Wayne that the public think I am, the ridiculous caricature I play… but the real me. I was doing good work with Wayne Enterprises, spending more time working with Lucius in the office, the social schemes and funding, the charity work, and she was there, by my side, and everything felt good. Everything felt right. The Arkham inmates were under lock and key, the Joker hadn’t reared his head for over a year, and I thought… maybe this is it. Maybe the dark times have passed.”

“Bruce…” Diana could see how much this was tearing him apart. She didn’t want to see him suffer. And if saying all this hurt… she squeezed his hands tenderly. She knew. She understood.

“No, no,” Bruce said, squeezing back, “it’s okay, I have to say this. But then the Joker came back. Julie was caught in the crossfire. And I think… well… I know. I told her about me. The first person outside of Alfred, Dick, Barbara… outside of those who knew who I was under the mask. And I told her, before I proposed, and she understood. It all clicked. The dates I missed. The times I had to duck out of dinners. She laughed when I told her,” this bought a smile to his face, “she thought… she said she thought I was gay. That she was deluding herself in loving me, because sometimes she suspected I had a secret life full of, well, other men.”

Seeing Bruce smile, it was a different expression of happiness than the ones Diana elicited in him. A warm memory, a recollection from times past. There was no jealousy for Diana. Julie was the perfect woman for Bruce at that time, and if memories of her kept his heart warm and pumping, then she was glad that Madison had been part of his life.

“But when the Joker attacked that charity event, I… I was in the office. Working late. She rang me, and when… I picked up the phone, I could hear his laughter. I could hear him, and my blood ran cold and my heart stopped beating. I rushed to the venue, and she was on the phone, the entire time, talking to me, because she believed I was going to save her. That I would be her hero, until the very end. And I failed her. The Joker killed dozens, and she was a statistic.”

“That wasn’t your fault. None of the deaths on the Joker’s hands are on yours.”

Bruce didn’t need to hear it but he smiled, a different kind of smile than moments before, and nodded. “It’s almost funny. I can't kill. I can never take a life. I know what it does to people. It reduces everything they've built up, everything they've known, to rubble. It burns down their lives and they're left to rebuild it all, and sometimes the structure of the life that they rebuild is wrong. Flawed. Broken even worse than what was left in the wake of that first death. I can't be responsible for that... even if it means being considered responsible for the acts of murder performed by those I've 'let' live. If I don't have that code... I'm creating more monsters, even more than my letting the monsters that already exist live."

Bruce sighed.

“The Joker is my responsibility because this city is the one he chooses as his playground. But if I kill him, take the law into my own hands, I’m no better than him.”

“I respect that decision,” said Diana.

“I live in fear for the day he returns. He comes at night and takes something I love. He hurts the city I vowed to protect. He takes, and he takes and he takes, and he leaves nothing but chaos and rubble in his wake, and I… I refuse to open myself up to even… to even hoping for a future, because I don’t want it to be taken from me. I can only focus on the moment, on striving to keep the status quo intact. But… with you… I have no excuse. You are the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I have ever met. All my fears… they’re laid bare and discarded at your feet. Diana, I love you. More than I thought I ever could after everything that’s happened. I wanted to tell you that.”

Diana beamed. “I love you too.” He leaned in to kiss her and she drew him closer to her. “And if you like, when the Joker next makes an appearance, I’ll knock that smile off his face for you. A gift.”

Batman almost laughed. And then the foundation shook violently, as if an explosion had gone off on the street below-- the pair rushed to the balcony and looked down, to where smoke rushed out of a nearby building.

“An explosion in such proximity to the Themysciran Embassy? A coincidence?” offered Batman, pulling on his cowl and clipping his cape back in place.

“I think you’re about to meet one of mine,” Diana replied.

In costume before Bruce could blink, Wonder Woman leaped off the balcony and toward the danger below. Batman followed, making sure his utility belt was securely attached, and the pair landed in front of the plumes of dark smoke that rushed out of the building that had exploded, ready for anything.

“No radiation in the air, it wasn’t dirty,” said Batman, his in-suit Geiger counter automatically scanning the immediate environs. He flicked through his cowl’s lenses, trying to get a gauge on how many hostiles were inside, but there were infra-red spikes that caused disruptions that he couldn’t pick apart.

“Get clear! Get back!” ordered Wonder Woman, toward the crowds that hadn’t managed to rush away from the source of the explosion yet, even as the pair walked toward it.

“I’ve contacted local authorities, fire crews and police are on the way,” said the Dark Knight.

Bullets flew wildly toward them, and Diana raised her gauntlets to send them ricocheting toward the ground. “One shooter.”

They pushed forward, entering the ruined mouth of the building. The only damage was to the entrance, and smoke was pouring from numerous devices arrayed across the lobby. “…This isn’t right.”

“Oh, it’s really not.”

Batman looked up at the top of the stairwell, where their shooter stood defiantly.

Garbed immaculately in a tailored black suit and white dress shirt, a scarlet cape around his shoulders and purple gloves adorning his hands, with a crimson cylindrical mask obscuring the entirety of his face, the shooter daintily adjusted his bow tie while keeping one pistol levelled directly at Batman and Wonder Woman.

“That’s not one of mine…” whispered Wonder Woman.

Batman felt his heart pound. It was impossible. It couldn’t be. And yet here he stood… “The Red Hood--!”