Don't own anything recognizable, though I do plan on slipping in an OC or two. It's the best way to get the ball rolling
Batman scowled as he surveyed the battlefield. Yet another iteration of the Injustice Guild was taking on the Justice League, but something was amiss. His instincts had started screaming at him when he'd heard where the guild had established itself – Central City. True, it was home to one of the members of the Justice League, but other than the Flash the city held no value for a villain – granted, there were banks and gem repositories, but no major political seats or technological firms. So what were the villains doing here? Especially using an uninhabited warehouse for their base of operations? He'd found it particularly suspicious that they'd been found so easily – though to be fair, these weren't the brightest pennies in the pot. Killer Croc, Copperhead, Solomon Grundy, Captain Boomerang, Star Sapphire and Ragdoll, all working in concert – but to what end? It didn't add up. And he didn't like it when things didn't add up. Straightening, he fired his grapple through a broken window near the roof. Hitting the button to retract the line, he felt the familiar jerk in his shoulder as he was pulled through, landing neatly on a rafter. Looking down, he saw crates – new crates. He dropped and pulled out an ultrasonic scanner, passing it over the crates to get an idea what was inside. What he saw disgusted him. The crates were filled with military-grade weaponry – enough to start and run a small war. Or the hostile takeover of a city. He reached up and tapped the com link hidden in the ear of his cowl. "J'onn. This warehouse – it's full of military-grade weapons. It's my guess they have a buyer already set up, and "Injustice Guild" was hired and formed for a muscular distraction. Tell Superman not to use his heat-vision, or the whole building could be blown sky-high." "Understood," was J'onn's succinct response. "Very good, Batman. Nothing less than I'd expect from you, of course, but good for any mere mortal. Which is why I must remove you from the picture. Nothing personal." Batman's eyes widened. "J'onn-!" The world exploded.
I was in the middle of punching Solomon Grundy's lights out when I felt the heat on my back a bare instant before the noise – and concussion wave – rocked my world. Thrown clear across the street, it took me a few moments to orient myself. What I saw once I did nearly stopped mys heart - the warehouse Batman had entered less than two minutes ago was in flames. I didn't even stop to think, flying straight into the inferno. "Batman!" I cried, scanning the burning ruin with my x-ray vision, hoping against hope that the Dark Knight had once again pulled off one of his miraculous escapes, that he would be crouched behind a broken crate singed and bruised, but largely unharmed. Better still, if didn't find him in here at all, but outside making snarky remarks at my expense. What – there! With growing dread, I flew over to the dark shape outlined against the floor. He was still breathing, which was a good sign at least. I reached out and lifted him as gently as possible, flying out of the smoke and ash as soon as I had him in a safe grip. "J'onn! Emergency teleport to medbay!" I shouted. I could hear Batman's heart beating erratically, and it was getting weaker.
No. No no no nononono.
This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening. Batman was tough – tough as nails, harder than diamond. He'd come through much, much worse – why did this have to happen? It wasn't fair. Batman shouldn't have been hurt in my city – his demanded so much more of him, his villains were so much more gruesome. He shouldn't even have broken a sweat. I mean, yeah the guy's only human, but that's like saying a glacier is only ice or a hurricane is only some wind. I swear, the guy is scarier than Superman, and Superman can pull your arms and legs off if you annoy him too much. So why did this have to happen? It didn't make sense, it wasn't fair. Batman was immortal, a legend in his own right – so why was J'onn having to work so feverishly to patch him up? Why was he cutting into him, pulling out dark and bloody things? Why?
Hera, please, send your blessings on this mortal. Apollo, God of Medicine, please aid and speed his recovery. Prayers. For all my vaunted years of combat experience, it still hurt to see a comrade lying abed, kept there by injuries received on the battlefield. I couldn't even help – he was beyond any medical knowledge I had garnered over the years. All I could do was pray, pray to gods he didn't believe in. He would scoff if he knew, disapproval radiating from his stern and handsome features. The thought caused a falter in my chain of prayers, and I hesitated a moment before addressing on to Aphrodite as well. Even though he had never deliberately reciprocated, his small actions gave him away. The incident in Africa, his name for me. I could only hope they would be enough to get Aphrodite on his side – for all I couldn't help him, experience told me he would need all the help he could get.