21:10 (TIMEZONE UNKNOWN)
JLA Watchtower
Peace: it was all that the Justice League had wanted. Thanks to the efforts of Young Justice, the Justice League, and even the unspoken acts of the Suicide Squad, it was as if the villains of the world crawled back into the shadows, forever gone from the spotlight and society.
Wally was gone.
Bruce was no longer the Batman.
Clark left the Justice League entirely.
Everyone went on to lead normal lives, but with the pardoning of many villains and mercenaries, tensions arose, and the disbandment of Young Justice came into question. A meeting was called, and while many former Justice League members refused to become involved yet again with what they called 'politics', but two decided to continue with the meeting. Bruce wasn't the man he once was, he was aging like everyone else, but a case of emphysema forced him to retire from being Batman. He knew that questions would be asked when his former colleagues saw him walking with a cane, but it was for his own sake... and because his Doctor had urged him to.
Was it the gravity that cleared his lungs? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but in the Watchtower, Bruce could breath a lot easier. As he walked down the hallway, voices from the main hub grew louder, but Bruce was confused when he heard an unfamiliar voice, one that sounded a bit robotic. The former 'Bat Vigilante' of Gotham had a bit of a problem with robots...
"Slade Wilson was just pardoned by Senator Ezekiel, Mr. Kent," said Bruno, the Watchtower's newest AI, "Harleen Frances Quinzel, Waylon Jones, Lex Luthor, Anatoli Knyazev, and Baran Flinders are just five out of ten to be released from various prisons."
"Ezekiel may be popular among the people, but releasing these people into the public is just too dangerous," Clark spoke, "Nobody can go after any of them; they've been given a full pardon and immunity. I can't even believe that anyone would agree to this..."
"I've been watching Anatoli for a few days. So far, he's been going from bank to bank collecting money, and no robberies have been reported, " Bruno spoke, "Waylon and Harleen have disappeared from our radar, Lex is currently in South Africa, and we've tracked Baran as well, he seems to be in New York."
"What about Deathstroke?" Bruce questioned, "Bruno, you're not hiding any info from me, are you?"
"Of course not, Mr. Kent," said the AI, and the computer terminals flickered, images of Slade appearing on the blue screen, "...This is... unusual. I cannot seem to locate him at the moment. Somehow, he found and deactivated his subdermal implant."
"See? You can never trust a bad guy," said Bruce, sitting back in his chair, "Can't we do something about this?"
"Not unless you want to deal with a big-shot Senator and the government, Superman," Bruce interrupted, immediately taking a seat. He was met with silence and staring, Clark surprised to see that Bruce was still alive and kicking. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "I came for a serious meeting, not an interview about my health."
"We're just a little shocked to see you in the Watchtower again, friend," said Clark, adjusting his glasses, "It's good to have someone from the old team here. Everyone else decided to skip out."
Clark was now a full-time journalist, and since Conner became the new protector of Metropolis, Superman was just vulnerable, glasses-wearing Clark Kent from Smallville, and getting shot at in places such as Morocco was a part of his life of traveling for interviews. His powers, for some strange reason, had started to weaken after a while, so wearing glasses was becoming a normal thing for the Kryptonian. He still wore his clothes from work; a plain and simple shirt with a tie, somewhat frayed pants, and his shoes were dusty, a bit of mud covering the heel.
Bruce, on the other hand, looked a bit unkempt. The stress started affecting him just months ago, and the sides of his hair were streaked gray, and wrinkles in his skin began to show. He wasn't the man he used to be, and adjusting to the boring life of a CEO... it just wasn't his style. Since the meeting had been called early, Bruce was at a fundraiser when an alarm on his phone sounded, so he arrived to the Watchtower wearing what seemed like a $800 suit, a black trench coat, and, of course, the cane he could barely walk without.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Bruno greeted, "I was originally created by Barbara Gordon, but I wasn't completely finished until June of 2017. I act as a caretaker for the Watchtower, but my systems have yet to be fully operational."
"He's my eyes and ears, that's for sure," said Clark, "Bruno and I have been talking, and I think it's time we talk about the initiative."
It only took Bruce a second to realize what Clark was saying. "The initiative, Clark?"
"Yes, that initiative," Clark groaned, leaning against the terminal, "With people such as Deathstroke roaming the streets, some diplomat is bound to end up dead within weeks, maybe days. Bruno," he turned his attention to the AI, "Any updates?"
"Nothing suspicious... yet," Bruno sighed, proving that his range of emotions had not been limited, "I am still waiting to contact those responsible for the candidates. All I need is permission... so I can't get blamed for waking someone up at 4:20 AM."
"Hmph, Artificial Intelligence with a sense of humor. Just what we needed," a hint of sarcasm was in Bruce's voice, "Bruno, show me who and what the candidates are. Background, possible criminal history, relationships, I- we'd like to see all of it."
At first, the screen glitched, the AI hesitating to dig through and decrypt personal and private files. Videos popped up onto the large screen, followed by photos from school yearbooks, documents from hospitals, birth certificates, and both past and current residences of these new candidates. It was going to be tough to persuade their parents about letting their children, their own flesh and blood, into becoming a part of the new Young Justice.
If luck was on their side, Bruce and Clark could pull some strings, ask a few old friends to mentor their possible new proteges. There was nothing impossible about this task, but it was going to take a few months to prepare.
"There's an old compound located in South Korea. It belonged to a dissolved Splinter Group, but according to gathered intel, it should be empty and undetectable to enemies," said Bruno, images of an underground facility presented on-screen, "Shall we begin preparations, Mr. Kent? Mr. Wayne?"
24:00 PST
Daleko Hills, Star City, North America
The Knyazev compound was no simple home, but a fortress, one guarded by hired guns. Anatoli was a man of business, someone who would only resort to violence when needed. If a client decided to befriend a Police Detective, said client would become a liability, and Anatoli had two choices: deal with the issue himself, or call a few good friends to deal with a pest problem.
In the case of Detective O'Dwyer of the Star City Police, Anatoli considered him to be just one of many loose ends to tie, and even as a Detective who received $6,000 more than his original salary, he was a liar, a man whose loyalty came into question one too many times. The sounds of fists hitting flesh emanated from the basement, guards who stood guard somewhat disturbed by what they were hearing. O'Dwyer hung from a meet hook, his hands going numb thanks to the rope constricting his wrists. Every time the brass knuckles had hit him, purple, blotchy bruises would form after each blow, and blood would spill from his mouth.
"I thought you knew better, Darwin," Anatoli spoke, setting the brass knuckles on a small tray, "I give you plenty of money, and you get the idea to go to commissioner? Oh no, we can't have that."
He slapped O'Dwyer a few times, not wanting the junior Detective to go unconscious.
"Вы, американцы никогда не узнать, будете ли вы?" he spoke in his native tongue, "You're going to hang here for a while, so consider this a quick break from our session. If you want, feel free to piss your pants anytime. It just gives me another reason to beat you."
As Anatoli removed the blood soaked apron he wore, O'Dwyer began to sob, tears streaming down his face. Even as a junior Detective, he was still a young man, and he wasn't prepared to deal with the Russian Mafia. Fortunately for him, Anatoli's crisp white shirt and pants were clean, not a single speck of blood found on his clothes.
If his clothes would have gotten bloodied, O'Dwyer would be dead already.
"Есть некоторые люди, которые ждут наверху," Andrei, one of the younger guards, spoke to Anatoli, "Должен ли я сказать им подождать?"
"Нет. Дай мне минуту," Anatoli replied, "Часы О'Двайер в то время как я уйду. Я не хочу, чтобы он пытается убежать."
Andrei nodded, and stood aside as Anatoli went upstairs.
The house wasn't exactly a mansion, but the interior of the home was well-decorated, and while Anatoli spent a year or two in prison, everything was kept clean. Even with his dogs, Koshmarik and Bolshoi- two meat-eating, hulking Doberman Pinschers- running around in the compound, not a single vase, glass, or picture frame was knocked down.
The Russian mafioso was surprised to hear playful yips instead of vicious growling, and when he entered the living room, he set his eyes on the scaly, crocodilian giant of a man, a beast, who sat on the sofa, letting Bolshoi nip and bite at his fingers. Killer Croc hadn't seen a single animal in quite a while, and the last time he saw dogs, he was being chased by two Bloodhounds.
"Control your pets, Knyazev," Slade complained, a tired Koshmarik sleeping at his feet, "I'm no fan of man-eating canines."
"Oh, please. They are sweet dogs, my friend. They wouldn't even hurt a child," Anatoli lightly chuckled, flicking lint from his shoulder, "Unless you tempt them with meat, then they will bite."
"Exactly why Auntie told me not t'mess with no dogs," Croc commented, "Had t'keep m'self from killin' Sheriff's hounds, too. Little miss cat-lady over there hates big pups."
"I have my reasons for disliking dogs. I'm more of a cat person," Selina said with a smirk, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, "I'd never thought I would see the owner of this house. A clean cut, sober, Russian mafioso straight out of prison? I expected you to look like a complete mess, 'Toli."
"Metahuman blood and plenty of rest is the key to healing burnt skin," Anatoli explained as he sat down, "My right arm, however, isn't what it used to be. The skin is still trying to heal, but with the lack of Metahumans in this part of the area, it isn't easy to acquire a fresh supply of blood."
"Should've stayed in Gotham, then. You never know who or what you can find, Knyazev!" said a voice in the kitchen, "Turn on the lights while your at it, friend. Can't see shit in here..."
With a snap of his fingers, the lights in the back kitchen activated, revealing two other figures. Roman Sionis, the newly crowned crime king of Gotham, and Blockbuster, who had kept an inhibitor collar around his neck, keeping the mutated beast's violent urges at bay.
"So, four of my former cellmates and an almost legendary thief in my home? This makes me very, very happy," said Anatoli, "I'm going to guess Mr. Desmond cannot talk yet?"
"...Ba... Barelyyyy..." Blockbuster's deep voice boomed, causing Koshmarik to skulk out of the room, "I... am only heeree... to restaart... the P-Project..."
"I'm only here to see Wayne dead," said Roman, his arms crossed, "I got eyes and ears everywhere, not just inside Gotham, y'know. A friend of mine in the GCPD says the Commissioner's daughter is working with someone named Bruno. Problem: Bruno is no guy, he is the ghost in a machine, and he's working with two people: the superhuman alien from space, and the bat."
Slade crushed the glass in his hand, pieces embedded in his skin. Apparently, the mercenary was getting rather sick of hearing about a former target's accomplishments. Either that, or he remembered the day when Barbara had gotten lucky, escaping the bullet from his rifle.
"See? Everyone is under stress here," Selina quipped, "But, some of us can't eat raw, human flesh... or create Superboy."
"Why do you think I called the five of you here?" Anatoli's voice was raised, "If somebody decides to create a new Young Justice team, we'll be in definite trouble. Besides, a few of us in here have tendencies to steal, kill, and assassinate. We don't want to be caught, do we? Like Papa always used to tell me: always fight fire with fire."
"So, you want us to find some gullible kids, train them, and turn them into some Anti-Young Justice team?" Roman cocked an eyebrow.
"Exactly! But, we don't want just anyone," Anatoli advised, "We need the strongest, the deadliest, and if possible, the maddest of all people. We need at least a month or so to prepare as well. If you're impatient, you can use whatever means necesary to get a 'sidekick' or 'protege'."
"I know Ivy will want to get in on the action," said Selina.
Croc growled, "Gonna take me some strength and will power to find someone and... not take a chunk outta 'em."
"It'll be easy. I'm sure someone will wanna cause some anarchy for once," Roman spoke, "Who knows, maybe I'll get one of the guys to do the job for me."
Blockbuster could only mumble gibberish words, his speech still limited. Slade, however, remained silent, a slight smirk on his face. So, this was Anatoli's plan? To create an Anti-Young Justice? Slade was torn; he wanted to get his revenge for botched assassinations, but training someone, especially if they were stubborn.
"Doin' okay, Slade?" Croc asked, curious to know what Slade was thinking about.
"Better than ever," said Slade, sarcasm in his voice, "I think I've already overstayed my welcome."
He simply got up, and much to the confusion of the others, he left, walking down the dimly lit hall. Slade entered the atrium, and activated the comm-earpiece hidden in his right ear, one that managed to stay out of sight from everyone else.
"22-Actual, this is Deathstroke," he kept his voice low, not looking for unwanted attention, "Get me access to the A.R.G.U.S database. It's time for someone else to be the new Deathstroke."
"Copy that, Deathstroke. We'll have access to the database within an hour or so," 22-Actual replied, "We heard the entire meeting, too. Knyazev is creating some sort of Young Injustice? Deathstroke, if this is true-"
"I'd appreciate it if you people at Caelum would stay out of my private matters," Slade hissed, "I'm no good guy, so don't expect me to stop this from happening."
"So, no calling Waller about this?"
"You're about to hack into the database of A.R.G.U.S, 22. Do you think telling her would help?"
"Sorry, Deathstroke. We'll make sure Waller doesn't find out about it. Telling her would void your contract," said 22, "We'll get back to you ASAP. Standby for updates."
"I have nothing but time," the mercenary said, adjusting the strap of his eyepatch, "And I'm only doing this for the $20,000,000, nothing else..."
A/N: Ah, yes. Young Justice: the one show I used to watch when I was... maybe, 9? It was somewhere around there. But, hello there! I am Karmaisms! Some of you already know me for my other (somewhat) successful story, The New Era. Well, after binge watching Young Justice with my friends, I decided to work on this new story: Among Saviors and Rogues.
It takes place 8 to 9 years after the original events of Young Justice, and, just to bring you up to speed, here is some info on what has happened so far!
-Young Justice is disbanded, and many members of the Justice League, including core members such as Hal Jordan/Green Lantern, Arthur Curry/Aquaman, leave the league entirely.
-Slade Wilson, known as Deathstroke- one of the world's top mercenaries- is sent to Blackgate Prison for the attempted assassination of Barbara Gordon, the daughter of GCPD Commissioner James Gordon. Slade is sentenced to 28 years to life, but his sentence is commuted to only 10 years with no possible parole.
-A.R.G.U.S is officially designated as a 'covert operations' by the United States Government, and those working with the organization are given the freedom to detain both Metahumans and Humans with/without cause for arrest, causing controversy among the public.
-A sudden and unexpected lung disease prevents Bruce Wayne from performing his duties as Batman, and crime begins to surge in Gotham City. Nightwing and Red Hood are tasked with bringing down the rate of crime, but with the prison breakout of Arkham, catching criminals such as the Joker and Penguin are now a greater challenge.
-The City of Atlantis surfaces between the North and South Atlantic Ocean. Aquaman's disappearance fuels the hatred between the newly reformed A.R.G.U.S and Atlanteans, prompting the United States government to temporarily ban citizens of Atlantis from coming ashore.
More will be revealed in future chapters, but, now you know what's happened so far... As usual, here are the RULES:
-No Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu OCs! Nobody is perfect; everyone has flaws and fears. Not everyone is born with white hair or multicolored eyes.
-I'm looking for 7 members for Young Justice, and 6 for Young Injustice. The youngest an OC should be is 15, and the age limit is 19. No exceptions.
-Submissions should be titled 'ASaR: (Insert Character Name, Age, and Codename). Put your favorite DC superhero's name at the bottom of your finished OC sheet, and this is to tell me that you have read the rules.
-There is no deadline, actually. Once I get enough OCs, the SYOC will be closed. I also expect to hear from/receive reviews from the people who submit OCs, and those who are just reading the story. Constructive criticism is okay, too. It helps me with my writing, and lets me know how I need to improve it, too!
-Remember, A.R.G.U.S is officially a main antagonist of this story. So, your OC, a relative of your OC, or someone your OC knows should be affected by A.R.G.U.S...
Welp, those are the rules. Ah, one more thing! Only one OC per person. It gives others a chance for their OC to be accepted.
Hopefully, you enjoyed the prologue! The oc form will be on my profile, along with the number of submissions I have received.
I hope to see some submissions in my PM soon! Goodnight, and make sure to stick around for new chapters!
-Karmaisms