#77: No Laughing Matter (Part 3 of 6)

“…How’re you feeling about your deployment, private?” Lieutenant Hodgkin asked, as they waited in line for their immunizations. They were the last handful of soldiers in the platoon, the rest of the squad having received their shots earlier that afternoon.

“Fine, sir. Just waiting to get shipped overseas at this point,” replied Private Takayama, shuffling from side to side.

“Yup. I’m scared of needles too,” said Hodgkin, smiling. “Why’d you think I waited to the last minute to get mine done?”

Takayama chuckled and shook his head. “Honestly, sir, I’m sure it’ll be fine. The assignment is what’s getting me worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about, son. Diplomatic ties with Bialya have never been better. The embassy compound is massive. We do our job, do our time, and we’ll be cycled out within the year. Easy-peasy.”

Takayama gave Hodgkin a look, more about his use of ‘easy-peasy’ than his sentiment about how easy their job would be. “You’ve done tours in embassies before?”

“Yup. Couple of times in Yerevan, a few in Baghdad. This is just one of dozens before. We’re basically high-end site security. Mirahd will be a breeze. President Harjavti wants to keep the international community on-side after the death of his brother*, so he won’t do anything stupid like march his army toward the Kahndaq border with an ancient war machine… again**.”

**A somewhat depreciated recapping of Justice League #51-52

Takayama laughed again, remembering the details of their briefing earlier that week. He watched Hodgkin take a seat next to the nurse, who took the lid off a thin syringe and jabbed him in the shoulder. Just like that, she was done, and the private was beckoned forward. “I guess you’re right, sir.”

Hodgkin rubbed his arm and bobbed his head in agreement. “’Course I am, that’s why I’m paid the big bucks, son. And--”

The lights in the room went out. The nurse paused, but then continued her job, enough light present that she could easily uncap the syringe and stab it into Takayama’s shoulder. He winced, but it wasn’t that bad.

“…What’s going on?” Hodgkin wondered aloud.

Takayama looked around, “Power outage. But--” The lights flickered back on, the emergency generators kicking in. “--Ah. There we go.”

Here’s what they didn’t know: Half the world away, a crippled Laputa plunged into the depths of the Pacific Ocean, with Batman trapped inside as the waters rushed in… Closer to home and beyond, power grids across the world overloaded and failed catastrophically. Emergency generators at hospitals took the strain where they could, but commercial power was suddenly gone; traffic systems that used to turn red to amber to green were now dead, state of the art bank systems went blind, and every single communication network suddenly became deaf.

Where it was night, there was complete darkness, only the stars to light their way. The clock had just got turned back for humanity, the world becoming a whole lot smaller in the time it took to laugh, and no one knew the cause…

Justice League

ARKHAM ISLAND, GOTHAM CITY:

“What was that?” asked Kimiyo Hoshi, looking around as all the overhead lights flickered.

Along with Angie Spica, Hawkman-- who had changed into his costume and unsheathed his wings-- and Wonder Woman, the woman better known as Doctor Light was situated above the intensive care unit of Arkham, looking down on a comatose Harley Quinn. Whatever had caused the seizure that knocked her for six was still a mystery, as was the reason she ended up in London dressed as the Red Hood.

“Some kind of power surge? Looks like the emergency generator activated,” offered Angie.

Hawkman grimaced. “Can your nanites tell us anything?”

Spica clicked her fingers, realising that, yes, they could do just that. “Oh, sure! Let me send them out,” she replied, closing her eyes and allowing the state of the art nanoswarm of shotgun metal micro-machines to drift out into the air and vanish into the air ducts.

After a few moments, she said, “…Whoa.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Doctor Light.

Angie turned to face her comrade. “Uh, so… the nanites are like… supercomputers. Each one programmed to search out and connect to any available networks after making sure they’re clean… I can connect to anything, closed systems, the internet, whatever. But just now… reaching out? Nothing. There’s usually a blanket of signals spinning across the world, but right now… there’s not much of anything.”

“I’ll check the secure wing,” said Hawkman. He paused, and then turned back. “Did anyone hear me?”

“You’re going to the secure wing?” said Doctor Light.

“I did a radio check on the nanotelepathic link. Did anyone hear? Angie?” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t even-- the network is down! Let’s try transport-- Door. Door? Door! Nothing. We’re cut off from everything. That’s so weird!”

Ever the pragmatist, Hawkman took his auxiliary communicator from one of the pouches in his belt and activated it. “This is Hawkman, on all Justice League channels. If anyone can hear me--”

Wonder Woman held up her own communicator. No noise came from it. No signals were being received. “We’ve been blinded-- no nanotelepathic link. Our legs cut out from under us-- no Doors. Someone wanted us helpless.”

“But we’re not. Not while we’re still standing,” said Hawkman.

“Perform your checks. We need to establish an alternative communication network. Doctor Light go with him,” said Wonder Woman. “No one breaks out of Arkham. Meet upstairs, in the command center in an hour.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Hawkman.

Wonder Woman was already halfway out the door, but she turned back to answer his question, “I’m going to get a better look at all this. And see what we can do to fix it.”

Below them, still comatose, a betrayed Harley Quinn dreamed, and all the while, the cogs were turning…


“All the lights went out. Why would that happen?” asked Mister Miracle, looking out across the New York skyline from the hospital’s family room.

He had Mad Hatter trussed up, they’d rustled up a sedative to keep the ex-pat Gothamite out of commission, and now the staff were treating the victims of Tetch’s latest escapade-- and themselves.

“Something to do with the Hatter, maybe?” offered Firehawk. Lorraine Reilly and Martin Stein had separated so that the latter could assist with checking up on Tetch’s victims, but she didn’t want to be powered down in the face of this city-wide blackout.

“Not his MO,” said the Guardian.

“Just spit balling,” she replied.

“Sorry. This… this hit closer to home than I thought possible. God damn… my entire family. They could’ve died. Could’ve…”

Without hesitation, Miracle put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But they didn’t. Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t. Now we need to focus on getting Hatter into police custody, and then figuring out this blackout.”

“And why our communications are down, and the Doors aren’t working,” added Firestorm. “I had to fly like a bat out of hell to get here, and it nearly wasn’t--”

Miracle threw up his hands. “Hey now! You made it! No one died! We’ve just got some confused folks with minor cuts and bruises!”

“Sorry, Scott. You’re right. A win’s a win,” said Firehawk, sheepishly. Big Barda had seemingly died a few weeks ago, and while Scott maintained she had ‘ascended’ rather than ‘passed away’, the strain couldn’t have been healthy. That said, he was chipper than any of the rest of the team combined, and that counted for a lot.

“I know I’m right. What did Professor Stein say?”

Lorraine exhaled slowly. “Him and the guy from S.T.A.R. Labs are looking over the victims, and so far they say everyone’s looking all right. They’ll need better equipment than the stuff the hospital generator can keep powered up, but they’re okay.”

Miracle dipped his head forward and then turned to the Guardian. “Okay. Good. Good. Why am I having to be the optimistic one? Why am I having to see the glass half full?”

The Guardian smiled. “You’re right. Let’s get our heads in the game. We need to get in touch with the others.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Lorraine asked.

“We go to them,” said Guardian.

“But with the Doors down--” she started.

Mister Miracle tapped the Mother Box strapped across his forearm. “Boom Tube.”

Firehawk smiled. “Where do we start?”

The Guardian considered the question, then held up his finger as he answered. “Arkham’s as good a place as any. Vic headed to Laputa to work my daughter’s bloods, so when we’re done getting the team together, we should convene there. I think that’s where we need to start.”

“And him?” Lorraine asked, gesturing toward Tetch.

“We’ll swing by S.T.A.R, hand him over to their custody, and give them a heads up as to what’s going on here. Then they can take over.”

“And I’ll join back up with the professor,” said Firehawk.

“Good. Good idea. Help S.T.A.R. get situated here, then Scott can Boom back here in an hour.”

“Sounds good. Let’s move,” said Mister Miracle.

BOOM!


When the power went down across Laputa, Victor Stone was concerned, to say the least. He’d been listening intently, as was his way, at the way Laputa’s innards shifted thank to the modular design work implemented back in the day.

Aquaman and Mera had facilitated the removal of Majestic’s old quarters and its transport to New Khera, and he’d seen Zealot’s face before they headed off on the next stop of their whirlwind world tour. She looked so sad, yet so hopeful… and now, moments before something terrible was about to be unleashed, he heard the grinding movement of walls and floors, as something inside Laputa shifted... and then there was silence.

Without warning, every part of the island’s system went into cascade failure, a series of dominoes knocking into each other and causing irrevocable damage to one another, until--

--It was dark. Vic shifted from his human form into his tank-like Cyborg configuration, and held up his right arm, transforming the top of his hand into a high-beam flashlight.

Ambient auditory sensors picked up movement and noise down in the bottom of the base, down in Angie’s lab. An echo, like the noise was bouncing from one part of the headquarters to another. He recalled the transport log that he backed up in his own servers, and noted that Batman had arrived on Laputa less than an hour ago, after…

“Oh, you sneaky so-and-so,” Vic murmured to himself, noting Batman’s arrival from London, where Wonder Woman was now based.

He was immediately pulled from what he perceived as the humour of the situation by the closing of every door on this floor, and beyond, as if someone had activated containment protocol. He cursed. The emergency protocols were on a redundancy circuit, which meant even if power went out, lockdown could still take place.

“Door,” he said, but no portal opened. {Can anybody hear me?} he asked via the nanotelepathic link, but all he received back was static. “Weird…”

He pressed his hand against one of the sealed bulkheads and then transformed his other hand into a laser cutter. His internal sensors were scanning the air for contaminants-- biological, radioactive, even alternative energy sources that signalled mystical residue.

But no, there was nothing, just the still air now that the doors had all sealed, and-- as his auditory pick-ups sharpened-- he heard what was happening downstairs. He heard the voice that had come across the closed systems not affected by the cascade failure. It was strange. Some systems were working. Some parts of Laputa were still up and running. But the majority, down here, in the belly of their home, it was dark, and it was growing cold, and the voice did nothing to make the environment feel as homely as it usually did.

“…After all, it looks like you’ve been having a lot of fun without me, and I can’t have that!”

Cyborg’s super-computer brain, capable of processing countless tasks simultaneously, held a back-up of the Justice League’s core database. With it, he could run analysis live, without having to hook-up to any external ports or network wirelessly into the internet to access information.

His internal computer recognized the identity of the speaker. Triple-checked in 330 picoseconds. Tuple-checked on top of that in an additional microsecond. The identity of the speaker came to him immediately.

“The Joker?” whispered Cyborg. “Oh, hell.”

He intensified his laser cutting, trying to listen in to the conversation happening down in the depths of the artificial island between the Dark Knight and the Clown Prince of Crime.

“…When you remove a limb, you can sometimes feel it itching until the day you die, but I have to say, I can live with a Bat-sized phantom limb flapping around in my vicinity. I can live with giving you up.”

Vic started to think. Thinking for him was like slowing down time, because he could fold in on himself, go computer-brain rather than human, but the emotions connected to what he was contemplating slowed him down considerably. How had the Joker broken into the team’s systems? Was he responsible for the shutdown of the nanotelepathic link and the Door system? How was he in their systems? Why was his voice followed by a dim echo, while Batman’s was solid and steady? What was going on?

He made enough of a cut into the bulkhead that he could get a handhold, and in one tearing motion he was through one door and confronted with another a few metres down the corridor. This wasn’t going to work. He needed to think, and he needed to think fast. And still, he listened.

“You couldn’t help but bring ol’ Harleen’s blood to your little island base, could you? And when you scanned it into your computers, the nanites I had designed began to do their dirty work. Gotta’ tell you, I’ve been expanding my horizons. Nanomachines are the in-thing right now, or so I’ve heard.”

“No way,” whispered Vic.

Nanomachines. That made sense. And maybe it plugged into another problem they were still trying to figure out. Somehow, weeks before, Angie’s father had managed to break out of the Slab after someone had snuck him the nanites that empowered his rampages. They had a law firm, but the case was still being worked…

Vic looked down at his feet. The flooring was thinner than the bulkheads, but still comprised of promethium. It would be a bitch to get through, but maybe it would be easier to burn through than the emergency bulkheads…

“I…But then you went and did the unthinkable… you did the thing I never thought you’d do. You went and got yourself a super-girlfriend. An actual Wonder Woman. Did I mean so little to you? Am I that much an afterthought?”

Vic froze up. The Joker was literally, irrevocably insane-- what else could he be? He paused, listening, knowing better but ignoring that instinct. He had to get to Batman, but at the same time--

“What… what do you mean?” He heard the Dark Knight ask. Was that fear Vic heard in his teammate’s voice?

“You moved on, Bats. You moved on and she had a great rack and I couldn’t compete, but it still hurt. You could have called, you know? A ‘Dear Joker’ letter or something? You know you could have found me, if you looked hard enough. So, if you’re moving on, so am I. I’m breaking up with you, moving up in the world, and shacking up with someone… someones… bigger and better. I’ve graduated, lover boy. Batman? Small fry. Justice League? Now, that’s more my type. That’s the challenge I want. I’ve been laying the groundwork for this since I pulled myself from the wreckage. I’d love for you to see what’s coming next, but you know what? I think we’ll have to comfort ourselves with the thought that you’ll be dead.”

Cyborg’s eye widened. “Oh, fu--”

And Laputa began to sink.


Without warning, Aquaman stopped midsentence and his head swivelled toward the ceiling, a concerned expression crossing his face. With Arthur Jr in one arm, Mera reached out to her husband. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes became slits as a subtle psychic impression slipped through the dome above their heads and into his psi-sensitive mind. “I’m getting… oh my God.”

Lady Zannah, aka Zealot, leader of the surviving Kherubim colony on Earth and their guest in Poseidonis, their kingdom’s capital, grew concerned. “What is it?”

“Laputa is sinking! We have to go!” said Arthur, headed toward the water-passage nearby. “Door! Door!” No portal formed, and he grimaced. “Something’s terribly wrong. I can’t raise anybody on the nanotelepathic link.” With no more words, he slipped through the water-passage and into the flooded section of the royal palace.

An attendant rushed over to take Arthur Jr from Mera, but before she could follow her husband, Zealot grabbed her by the shoulder. “I need to go with you.”

“Can you breathe underwater?” asked Mera.

“No. But I can hold my breath long enough.”

Mera nodded, and when Zealot was ready, they exited the airtight dome and began swimming in the direction Aquaman had left, with the former propelling Zannah and herself using her hydrokinetic power.

Arthur had headed toward the armoury, a few miles away from the royal palace, and Mera found him frantically searching the shelves of weaponry that filled the warehouse-like building filled with Atlantean soldiers.

“Even at my fastest, it’ll take at least an hour to reach where Laputa once floated. But I have an idea,” said Aquaman, noting Mera and Zealot’s arrival. “Yes, this is what I was looking for…” He held up a familiar device to Mera. “A portal weaver, recovered from a Xebel war cache uncovered by surface tomb raiders some time ago*.”


“We can use this to travel to Laputa immediately! From one body of water to another!” proclaimed Mera.

Unable to speak with her mouth clamped shut, Zealot gave a simple thumbs up, and Mera went to work activating the device. She operated the intricate Xebel controls swiftly, and when it was ready, the waters around them changed hue. She beckoned Zealot forward, and when they emerged--


--Aquaman looked up, hundreds of miles from where he had last floated.

Then he looked down.

There it was. Laputa. Completely submerged and sinking fast. He squinted, and saw that every door, hatch and window across the artificial island was stuck open. Even the previously air-locked moon pool, in the base of the island, where the majority of their ships were docked, had spilled open, meaning their headquarters had flooded even faster.

Realizing the extent of the damage, Mera reached out, and an immense, five-fingered hand-- pulled from the waters surrounding them-- clamped around Laputa, and for a moment, she hydrokinetically prevented the island from sinking any further.

Floating in place, Zealot watched as Aquaman shot down toward Laputa, arched beneath the island, and then used his immense strength to buffet against it. She didn’t know that the King of the Seven Seas could survive easily in Challenger Deep, the deepest point of the ocean known to man at nearly 11,000 meters below sea level, where the pounds per square inch was over fifteen thousand, enough to shatter diamond.

That meant, when push came to shove, when he needed to, he could perform what could be construed as miracles.

Her nose bleeding from the strain of holding aloft the near megaton weight of Laputa, Mera realised what her husband was doing, and instead of holding up Laputa, threw her hydrokinetic might behind supporting Arthur.

With a platform of psychically dense water underfoot, Aquaman began to push, began to shove, and then swam upwards-- slow at first, but then picking up speed-- until Laputa burst through the ocean’s surface, water pouring out of the open portals across her body.

“That was… astonishing…” said Zealot, clambering up on the island’s harbour, as the emergency buoyancy systems activated, and they levelled off.

“Why’d you think I married him?” asked Mera, climbing up after her.

Zannah shook her head. “Is this your life? In your leisure time, you save the world, but when there are no crises calling for your attention, you rule the largest kingdom on the planet?”

Mera considered the words, and she truthfully couldn’t disagree. “Somewhat… though, Arthur and I took a step back from our royal duties a few months back, and our close friend Garth is currently regent. He’s receiving, umm, on-the-job training from our royal adviser, Vulko*.”


Aquaman began to pull himself up, his face pale from the exertion he’d demonstrated moments earlier. “So actually, in our spare time-- of which we now have an abundance-- we spend time with our son. Some royal duties… require… whoa--” He stumbled, and Mera caught him, noticing how his body was shaking. “S-sorry, that must’ve taken more out of me than I--”

{Where’s the fun in saving the day?} asked an unfamiliar voice in their heads, breaking through on the nanotelepathic link.

“Who is that?” asked Mera, gripping Aquaman’s side.

He shook his head, unsure, while Zealot, who couldn’t hear the voice, looked around. “What do you mean?”

A low chuckle echoed through the Justice Leaguer’s heads. {Let me put it in a language you understand, red.}

And then Laputa detonated.


The island was in lockdown. The cells sealed shut. The inmates were rowdy. They could feel the pressure in the air change. The kind of psychic schism that fills the air when the world takes a turn for the worse. They were laughing, braying, shout and screaming. The guards and doctors were edgy as well. Some of them had transferred from the old asylum to the new, and they knew what came with this kind of raucousness… With the phone lines down, Jeremiah Arkham had sent an orderly to the GCPD, with a request that they send SWAT units… just in case.

“I don’t like this. Not one bit,” said Hawkman.

“Me neither, but that’s what we get for being in a madhouse when the lights go out,” replied Doctor Light.

“No, not that. I’ve seen worse prisons. Recently, in fact. But we’re deaf and blind, and half the team is unaccounted for. Why is everything going to hell around us? What’s the connection to Quinzel? Tetch?”

Outside, a loud explosion quaked the walls, and the pair looked at each other, as if they’d been tempting fate. They hurried forward, through the labyrinthine corridors, passed checkpoints where orderlies in body armour were gripping taser batons, just in case. A few moments later, they were outside, and standing on the grass in front of the intake hall were the Guardian and Mister Miracle, as the Boom Tube they used to travel snapped shut with a start.

“Seven Hells… I nearly had a heart attack,” said Hawkman. Kimiyo could hear the relief in his voice.

“Nice to see you too, Hawks,” said Mister Miracle.

The Guardian was all business, “Cliff notes: Mad Hatter was operating in New York. He tried to kill a hospital. We took him down before he could succeed… he’s in custody at S.T.A.R.”

Hawkman sniffed. “The Manhattan facility can hold him. Did anybody get hurt?”

“Defensive wounds, a few headaches. The mind control technology got its hooks in deep, but nothing permanent. What’s going on here?”

“Here? What about over there?” asked Doctor Light, motioning over to Gotham City. It was dark. Little to no artificial light emanating from the streets due to the downed power grid. It wouldn’t be long until chaos asserted itself…

The Guardian shook his head. “Power outages in New York, too. Gotham. Where else?”

“We don’t know. The asylum is in lockdown. I want to move out, reconvene on Laputa. Figure out how to put a call out to the reservists. This could be big. We don’t know what’s coming. Or already here.”

“Communication should be our main priority. Getting the team in one place, and then moving out where necessary the second,” said the Guardian.

“I’m surprised Batman hasn’t swooped in with an answer to all our questions,” said Mister Miracle. “Isn’t this his stomping ground?”


“Batman? Are you here?” asked Wonder Woman, slipping into the cave through one of the secret passages hidden amongst the wooded area surrounding the manor. The cave was silent apart from the tapping of keys, and when she reached the main area of the immense hideout of the Dark Knight, she saw the source.

“That… that can’t be right… not one bit…” murmured Tim Wayne, aka Robin. The adopted son of Bruce Wayne had a pair of headphones plugged into a small device, while he was staring up at the screens that loomed large against the wall of the cave. On the screen was a digital map of the Red Hood’s scarlet mask, enhanced to the zenith degree.

In the corner of the Boy Wonder’s eye, he spotted the Princess of Themyscira’s reflection on his computer screen, and turned around sheepishly, pulling out his headphones as he did. “W-Wonder Woman! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s fine, Timothy. Where is--?” she asked.

“Last known location from his suit’s transponder has him on Laputa, but it shorted out along with the rest of the world’s power grids. Only reason we’re running the Crays down here is thanks to some sneaky Kryptonian super-tech Superman loaned out to the boss,” said Robin.

“What… what have you found?” she asked, motioning toward the screen.

“Fingerprints. Yours, from when you pulled it off Harley’s head, but others too. The computer just finished identifying them, and it’s… it’s weird as heck, to tell you the truth.”

Diana squinted, her brow furrowing as she read the identity of those who had seemingly touched the helmet prior to their removal of it. “You’re right… that can’t be possible.”

Two names.

A man and a woman.

A man…

Alejandro Cuetes, founder and CEO of Aleph Pharmaceuticals, who died in front of Aquaman and Wonder Woman* mere weeks ago, seemingly from a massive stroke. That said, the body was cremated after a private autopsy…** could it be that he was alive? That his death was faked?


And…

A woman…

“That’s… that’s not possible,” said Diana, astounded.

The second set of fingerprints belonged to Julie Madison, the former fiancée of Bruce Wayne.

But she was dead… wasn’t she?


Mera grimaced as she pulled Arthur’s prone body close, helping to pull him onto a large shard of debris that had once been one of the main pylons supporting Laputa’s mass. He’d thrown himself in front of her at the last moment before the explosion, taking the brunt of the concussive force that had fractured their headquarters into oblivion.

Arthur was bleeding profusely from a wound on his head and his face was covered in gouges. His golden shirt had lost numerous scales and bits of metal and plastic were embedded in his flesh. The force of the explosion must have been immense, to break his skin… fortunately, she was relatively unharmed by the catastrophe that had unfolded, but that didn’t stop her from cursing her husband’s headstrong attempt to protect her from harm above his own personal safety.

“Heard… heard them…” murmured Aquaman.

“Heard what, my love?” asked Mera.

She rested a hand over his head. She could feel the movement of blood seeping through cracks in his skull. She concentrated-- her hydrokinesis favoured the psychic control of water, but she could still-- if she thought hard enough-- focused herself-- she was able to draw the blood out of the damaged areas of his head, so he didn’t suffer a subdural hematoma while they floated in the middle of nowhere.

Arthur was mumbling incoherently, his voice dropping in and out as he rambled, “fish… I ask… asked them to… watch… schools of… fish… Laputa… how I knew… mad… isn’t I? Mad…”

“Ughh… is he all right?” asked Zealot, pulling herself up from the waters.

Mera turned back to face her, and was amazed to see that she too was relatively unharmed by the explosion. “He’s badly hurt. We need… medical help.”

“The portal weaver?” asked Zealot.

Mera shook her head. “Shattered.”

“Your allies… are they here?”

“I don’t know… maybe… I…” She looked out across the debris field, wondering what they could do now… and then she saw a glint of movement under the surface. For a moment, she thought it was more debris, but as it floated upwards, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Surfacing wordlessly, Cyborg, his armored feet converted into small rockets, hefted a large cylinder behind him as he hovered nearby. “Are you guys all right? Wait-- is that Aquaman? Oh, no… I’m coming to you!”


The Joker’s voice continued to echo out mockingly across Laputa’s tannoy system in the medical lab. From the sounds of it, all the doors, every bulkhead, porthole and window, had just opened, and things were about to get a lot worse--

“That was your moon pool, the one in your air-tight hangar, containing all your cool ships and boats and canoes, failing. Water’s getting in, Bats. You’re sinking. This is your tomb. Your entire island headquarters, with you inside, sinking beneath the waves. And if you think this is your opportunity to get out…”

Laputa careened on its side and Batman was flipped over, scrambling back to his feet as an onslaught of sea water rushed toward him from the corridor. The entire weight of the ocean was about to hit him, and he was trapped in the medical bay, with nowhere else to go.

Unless…

The central diagnosis tube was designed to be indestructible. Capable of holding a mentally ill Kryptonian if push came to shove, and allowing a team of medical experts to do their work without fear of being heat-visioned into a shadow.

Batman swung the door open, sealed it shut, and then began to slow his breathing. The ocean smashed into the tube and he nearly winced, but instead he trusted in the design work. The reinforced plastics held, and then he began to do the math.

The total volume of the tube was around 55 thousand cubic inches or 890 litres, close enough to a coffin for this situation to be a taphophobic’s worst nightmare. So, 820 litres of air, of which one fifth was oxygen. Workable. Decent.

He began to slow his breathing. His metabolism. That was enough air, in theory, for an average person to last about ten hours-- if they didn’t panic. But the Batman was no average person. So, even if it took the Justice League a day or so to recover Laputa, he’d would have enough oxygen to last maybe thirty six hours. And then he had the rebreather in his belt. This could be a regular vacation for the Caped Crusader.

He pressed his hand against the interior of the tube. It was dark now, the emergency lights fizzled out to nothing, the entire structure of the immense island groaning as it slipped deeper beneath the waves. There was nothing but the abyss.

And the Joker, somewhere out in the world, waiting for him to get out.

In the dark… a flicker of movement… a strobe of light… and then Cyborg swam toward him, waving.

Batman mouthed, ‘The Joker did this.’

Cyborg nodded. ‘I know’ and then, ‘I will get you out of there.’


“Umm, excuse me? Are you… a Justice Leaguer?” asked a nurse, tapping Angela Spica on the shoulder.

She’d been deep in thought in the observation lounge above Arkham’s medical ward, working through numerous problems that had been playing on her these last few weeks. “Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m one of those.”

“Do you have a name? Can I, umm, borrow you?”

“Call me the Engineer,” said Angie. And it felt right.

Yes, the Engineer was her father’s mad scientist / supervillain moniker. ‘Engineer’. He’d twisted it into something nasty, but that wasn’t what the word meant to her. An engineer came up with solutions, worked on a problem until it was no longer a problem. He threw that baby of a concept out with the bathwater, preferring to come up with a societal holocaust instead of actual, workable solutions.

Now it was her turn. Make something of it. Build a better identity. Rehabilitate something that mattered to her. Because while her father was beyond saving now, this wasn’t. So, why not give it a shot? Her first act as a superhero… saving a name.

“Before the power went out and the generator came online, we took blood from Harleen. And that’s… that’s where it got really weird,” said the nurse. “I’m Beasley, by the way. Viv Beasley. Uh, I’m a nurse here.”

“A pleasure, Viv… what do you mean though?” asked Angie.

“I’ve seen some crazy stuff. Literally. Figuratively. Whatever. But I ain’t ever seen anything like what’s going on in that blood sample. There’s something… moving in there.”

Angie blinked once. Twice. Three times. “…You what?”


Still powered up as Firehawk, Lorraine headed to where she’d left Martin Stein with S.T.A.R.’s representative, Anton Jeffers. She walked past numerous rooms that housed those affected by Mad Hatter’s assault, and grimaced when she realised how close they came to one of the biggest body counts the team had ever seen.

Staff were on hand helping those who were impacted, overcoming their own debilitation to help others. It was admirable to watch, but Lorraine wished she could do more than wave at the small children in an attempt to cheer them up.

“But are you sure?” she heard Martin ask, trying to be civilised.

Jeffers was less restrained. “Am I sure? Of course I’m god damn sure, I’ve double-checked-- triple-checked-- the sample!”

“But then… we need to check everybody. Re-check them. This is…”

“I know!” barked Jeffers.

“What’s going on?” asked Lorraine.

Jeffers threw his arms up into the air. “Infection! Some kind of infection! Good grief, superheroes, I hate it, I hate them, it’s horrible… the National Guard can’t get here soon enough…”

“What my learned colleague is trying to say is that we’ve identified a nanotechnology fleet in the bloodstreams of the patients that wasn’t present in the samples taken before Mad Hatter’s attack.”

“Nano--? His tech is in their blood stream?” Lorraine offered, taken aback.

Martin shook his head. “It’s not his MO, Firestorm.”

“Firehawk,” corrected Lorraine.

“Yes, of course,” said Martin, removing his glasses and rubbing them with the edge of his labcoat. “It’s actually… familiar. Nanotechnology. You recall the Engineer?”

“Hard to forget…”

“I’d rather be back at Arnakuagsak Base than smack dab in the middle of this nightmare,” mumbled Jeffers.

Lorraine spun around and levelled an angry finger at the doctor. “Listen, are you going to keep talking to yourself or make yourself useful? There are people out there that need your help. So you can either help us figure out what’s going on, or you can go make balloon animals for scared children. How does that sound?”

“…I can’t make balloon animals,” said Jeffers.

“Then stop complaining to yourself and help!” shouted Firehawk.

“Where do… where do you want me to start?”

“There’s nanotechnology in the bodies of the patients here. How? Why?” she asked.

Martin held up his hand. “Some kind of catalyst, maybe? It wasn’t there before, but the mind-control technology isn’t… there’s no trace of nanites in there. So, something else…”

“What if the nanites were always there? But just in a different shape?” offered Jeffers.

“…You can’t possibly mean…” said Martin, his mind racing with the possibilities.

Something clicked in Lorraine’s. “Oh, God. We need to look at the cancer treatments. We need to look at the drugs.”


“…Is that who I think it is?” asked Tim.

“…I…” started Diana.

“Miss Julie…” The voice at the top of the stairs, leading up to Wayne Manor proper, interrupted the confusion between the pair, who turned to see Alfred Pennyworth, looking horrified. “What’s happened?”

“Her fingerprints were found at a crime scene… Harley Quinn dressed as the Red Hood.”

Alfred swallowed hard. He’d gone pale in the face and was horrified by what he’d heard. “…Is… is he back?”

Tim shook his head. “We… don’t know.”

“And where’s Master Bruce?”

“Laputa… we think,” said Tim.

Alfred took Diana’s hands into his own. “If the Joker has returned, then you need to find Master Bruce. You need to rally your forces and do whatever it takes to bring him down. Miss Diana, please, you need to understand… he’s a monster. More than anything, he’s a monster. And I… I know what you have done to monsters in the past. And I think it’s time you do that here, given the opportunity.”

Wonder Woman understood, implicitly. “I’ll fly for Laputa immediately. And Alfred… I’ll do what I have to do. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

She headed for the exit, a plan formulating in her mind. Within seconds, she was gone, leaving Tim and Alfred alone in the cave.

“What else have you found, Master Timothy?” Alfred asked, a firm hand gripping the young man’s shoulder.

“It’s a rabbit hole, Alfie. Aleph Pharma having been making mad moves this last year or so. Did you know they put in the best bid to cover immunisations in the military a few weeks after Cuetes died? That was their first big power move. Their new boss, Swain, seems to be trying to push the company into every corner of the market they’re able.”

“Keep digging, Master Timothy. Who knows what other secrets you might uncover. And as I have told you many times now, do not call me 'Alfie'.”

Tim grinned. "Sorry, Alf!"


Without hesitation, Cyborg sent microscopic tubes from his hand into the contusions across Aquaman’s head and began to repair the damage done to the King of the Seven Seas skull. Mera had managed to prevent blood seeping into her husband’s brain, and with the Man Machine’s help, they’d stemmed the tide. Zealot carefully lowered him into the now-empty containment tube, attached it to the slab of debris they were situated upon, and they allowed it to fill with water. Arthur would heal faster in contact with the seas, and Cyborg crouched nearby, monitoring his progress.

“The Joker is back,” Cyborg said, looking at the others. “Hacked all our systems. Don’t know how.”

“I heard his voice over the nanotelepathic link, he… I thought he was dead,” said Mera.

“There was no body. There was never a body,” said Batman. The first words he’d said since Cyborg had pulled him from the containment tube he’d been entombed within previously. He looked down at Aquaman, one of his oldest friends in this business, and closed his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Mera asked.

Grim-faced, Batman said nothing. He turned away from the others, and with his voice low, he whispered, “Clark. Help.”

The response was silence but for the crashing of the waves, the clanking of Laputa’s debris against itself. And then, in the distance-- rumbling in the skies-- and the group looked up, thinking that thunder must be on its way, but the Dark Knight knew better.

A split-second later, the Man of Steel himself was floating above them, his cape flapping in the wind.

“What’s happened?” Superman asked.

Batman stepped forward. “The Joker is back. Aquaman took the brunt of the explosion that destroyed Laputa. He needs urgent medical attention. Mera, would Poseidonis be the best place for him?”

“I believe so,” she replied.

“I can fly you there first, you can make them aware of what’s coming, and then I can be back with you a few moments later with Arthur,” said Superman.

“Let’s hurry,” said Mera.

Superman wrapped Mera in his cape, and then vanished beneath the waves like a shot.

“Who is that man?” asked Zealot.

“Superman,” replied Cyborg.

“He’s not of this world, is he?” she said.

“He’s more of this world than anybody I’ve ever met,” said Batman, still standing off from the others.

A moment later, Superman re-emerged, and looked down at the pod containing Arthur. “Sorry I took so long. Didn’t want to give Mera the bends.”

“Gimme a sec,” said Cyborg. He detached his wrist with a sharp twist and placed it within the containment capsule, so it was stuck to the side. The micro-thin tubes he’d strung from his body into Aquaman’s head floated in the water, and he turned to Superman. “Just a precaution, I don’t want the trip down undoing my subcutaneous stitch job.”

“Whatever helps, Victor. Good thinking,” said Superman. He wrapped the tube, and then headed under the surface once more.

“Batman… are you… all right?” Cyborg asked, heading over to the Dark Knight.

“No. The Justice League has been shattered. The Joker… if he’s back… I don’t…” He trailed off.

Victor had never seen the Caped Crusader like this before. When he was a Teen Titan, back when Nightwing used to tell stories about his mentor, he never imagined that the vigilante hero of Gotham could ever look so defeated. He knew scant details of what the Joker had done to Batman, to Gotham City, in all his career, but he could always access his internet brain, the immense database that held every single iota of information held across the globe… but he didn’t need the details. He knew enough from the state of the Dark Knight. The look on his face, the way his jaw was set…

“We’ll stop him,” Cyborg said. He hoped he sounded convincing.

Batman nodded. “Of course we’ll stop him. But at what cost--?”

Superman emerged from the oceans once more, and shuddered his body dry in a split-second. He landed next to Batman, as Cyborg and Zealot looked on. “Power grids have failed across the world. Communications are down globally. If this is the Joker, he’s upped his game.”

“He’s had a long time to plan this…” said Batman.

“You know him best. What do we do?” Superman asked.

“I…” Batman glanced down at his hands, and the Man of Steel could hear the man’s heart race. Just as Vic felt a moment before, Clark realised he’d never seen his old friend like this.

“Bruce…”

The foursome floating on the debris of Laputa looked up, and witnessed Wonder Woman floating high above their heads, the sun shining like a halo behind her.

Batman looked up, and something inside him lifted, and he began to talk quickly, with determination. “We need to get the word out. We need to gather our forces. Superman, can you fly to the Hall of Justice? With Laputa gone, we need a central location to operate from. Cyborg, go with him, see what you can do about getting systems powered up.”

“I’m at your disposal, as well,” said Zealot.

Batman looked to her. “Superman; get Zealot back to her people. We don’t know the scope of this yet. Lady Zannah… if you are willing… prepare for what comes next. Prepare for the war that might be coming.”

“Your people saved mine. You have my word we’ll do whatever we can to support you in the dark times coming,” said Zannah.

Before they could leave, Cyborg stepped forward. “You think it could get that bad?” he asked, his body reconfiguring so it was flight-capable, large rocket boosters protruding from his back compartments.

Diana floated down, so she was standing beside the man she loved. “Things have already begun to escalate.”

“The Joker said he was finished with me. That he was moving on to the Justice League. I expect his scope to have grown with that in mind. But I’m not finished with him. We’ll stop him. We have to. Together.”


Assembled in the observation room above the medical wing, the Guardian checked his watch. Soon, they’d need to return to New York, check in with Firestorm, and then figure out where to go from there. Angie had gone on the PA system and requested the Justice League’s presence in the observation room, so now Doctor Light, Hawkman and Mister Miracle, joined by the Guardian, stood waiting, as she climbed the stairs from the room Quinn was currently unconscious in, to join them.

“Have you found something?” Hawkman asked.

“Unfortunately, we have,” said Angie.

The Guardian beckoned her to continue. “Please.”

“Right. Wonder Woman said that Harley punched her so hard she drew blood. Quinn’s always been strong, but not enough to break the skin of someone blessed by gods. I figured out why. She’s full of nanites. The same next-gen versions my father designed, but configured differently…”

The Guardian grimaced. “Your father is currently in a medically-induced coma after his attack on Las Vegas. Could this be some kind of contingency plan?”

“I don’t think so. The nanites are basically power-ups. Massive power-ups. With a genetic component that wasn’t present in the previous wave we came up against. It’s a DNA-infusion. Something that basically… overlays a genetic template over the pre-existing one. Harley Quinn was main-lining something I’ve never seen before. A genetic component too complex to even begin to decode. My dad… he… he wanted to evolve humanity into… he… he called it ‘Homo Cyberneticus’. He was insane, and that’s what he called it. This is an organic power-up, though. Not his MO.”

“What can we do?” asked Hawkman.

The Engineer glanced around. “I’m going to stay here, try and figure out a way to flush the nanites out of her system. They’re keeping her sedated right now; she’s no threat, and I need to get to the bottom of this, especially if there are other cases out there.”

“I’d like to stay as well. I think I can do more from a scientific standpoint than a superhero one,” said Doctor Light.

“Then the three of us will head to New York, and convene with the others,” said the Guardian.

“Keep us in the loop, okay?” said Angie.

Miracle triggered the opening of a Boom Tube, and then led the Guardian and Hawkman through the portal, to--


--the hospital, where Firehawk was standing waiting for them. “That was probably the longest hour I’ve ever experienced,” she said.

“What have you found?” asked the Guardian.

“Nothing good. C’mon,” said Lorraine, leading the way.

“Where’s Stein?” asked Hawkman.

“We could do more separate than together, which is something I’d never thought I’d say,” she said.

Jeffers and Stein were in the lab, solemn looks on their faces. The Justice League entered, and the Guardian immediately felt something creep up his spine. He didn’t like the atmosphere in here, and he wanted answers, fast.

“It’s not good,” Stein said.

“That’s an understatement,” added Jeffers.

“What do you mean?” asked Hawkman.

Stein pulled a face, unease and fear spread across his features. “The… the cancer treatments… the drugs from Aleph… they’re not… they’ve…”

“Spit it out!” growled the Guardian.

“The cancer treatments acted as a carrier for the nanotechnology we found in the bloodstreams of the patients. They’re--”

“D-daddy?”

The group looked toward the door to the lab, where the Guardian’s elderly daughter, Marjorie Lawson, was standing. Mere hours before, she’d looked revitalised, her cancer in full remission, but between that point, the Mad Hatter’s attack on the hospital, and now, she looked gaunt, and pale. Her blonde hair was faded and grey, straw-like in texture.

“Oh, no,” whispered Harper. He rushed over to catch her as she collapsed forward. She coughed horribly, her frail body sounding hollow as he held her close, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Daddy… what… whah… ah…” she whispered, blood dribbling from her lips.

“Do something--!” Guardian bellowed at the doctors.

“The cancer treatments… they weren’t real! They masked the symptoms!” shouted Jeffers.

“That means… there are dozens…” said Mister Miracle.

“Hundreds, maybe thousands…” corrected Stein, “…all exposed to the treatment.”

“ah… ah…” wheezed Marjorie. She was growing paler as she tried to breathe, blood staining her lips, her eyes opened wide as she saw something beyond her father’s shoulder.

“No no no no no,” whispered Harper.

“ah ha ha haaaaaa ha-ha haaaaaaaa,” his daughter wheezed, her ragged breaths transforming into a crackling, horrible laugh, as her skin took on a pallid white complexion, her hair twisting green, her lips blood red. That wasn’t enough though-- her pupils began to crackle crimson-- heat pooling in her irises-- and without any further warning, the laboratory erupted in a cacophony of roaring fire as the elderly woman exploded--!