PROLOGUE
"My name is Kal-El but the past eleven years I have been operating on this planet as Superman and have tried my best to protect this world and uphold the highest degree of Justice." He paused and looked closer at the crowd gathered before him. So there he was, The Superman, standing atop the steps to the Capitol Building in Washington. "I am an alien form another planet, a refugee and since I was a child, I was raised here, saw this world through your eyes. Its beauty and its flaws, each complimenting the other. I came to know you, to love you and to defend you from harm, and to find others who share my love, to form the Justice League." He gestured to his colleagues standing on either side of him.
To his left was a man in black armour and cowl, a stylised bat motif on his chest. They knew him as The Batman, scourge of the underworld. He was vengeance, the night. But to him, he was Bruce Wayne, one of his best and closest friends. Next to him was a man entirely in red and over his chest was a single lightning bolt emphasising his speed which garnered him the moniker of The Flash, fastest man alive. At the very end was Victor Stone or as he has come to be known as The Cyborg. The embodiment of man and technology.
Then to his right was a tall dark haired woman in full Greek god style armour. To the Amazon tribes she is Diana of Themyscira but to the whole world she is known as Wonder Woman.
For this reason we're decommissioning the Watchtower," there was murmuring among the crowd. Humans and Meta-humans looking up at him with worried eyes. "Though it came at a cost, the Crisis has ended. The being known as Darkseid is dead and the universe is safe for now." Among the crowd he could see his closes friends from the Daily Planet. Lois Lane and her girlfriend stood waiting for him to talk to them and Jimmy Olsen's face hidden behind a camera. "There's more. We want to thank the members of the Justice League for your courageous service, but in the future you'll all have to act as independent agents." The murmuring had risen louder and louder until he could no longer hear them clearly anymore. "We're not going to be an army anymore. As of right now…" He took his time. He had to take a long and sombre breath, this was never going to be easy. "As of right now, we are disbanding the Justice League. This is the end."
—BATMAN—
It was far more darker in the cave than he was used to, or perhaps it was just the feeling the situation that had him down there had brought. Alfred, his trusted aid, the man who practically raised him all those years ago, before the cowl, now watched, standing beside the elevator to the mansion above. He watched as Bruce proceeded to make his last preparations and shut down all of the computers.
The Cave— a section of his grand house built upon a hollow foundation was once carved out to tunnel and transport freed slaves to the North. The Underground Railroads. Now they served a different purpose. He had fallen into it as a child running away from his grief and there when he fell…fell for forever. The cave was monstrous, must have been there for centuries. There, deep in the shadows he saw red and glowing eyes piercing his soul and suddenly he found himself engulfed in a flood of bats. It was his calling.
Bruce went to a section of the cave, a circular rotunda with glowing niches all around filled with figured suits of varying designs. It was twenty years of history in there—twenty years of the Batman's history. He walked over to one of the cases where one of his first ever suits was held. Eyes examining the suit and bat insignia on the chest, a sigh left his heart but what that sigh meant he could not determine. Of course, he had on a different suit now, one that he knew would require some re-acquaintancing. He believed it was Brioni, unless he was mistaken.
He knew though that it would change, that his whole life would change just as it did when he was eight, witnessed his parents gunned down before his waking eyes. So much anger. Looking into the eyes of the empty cowl, was filled with so much anger, anguish and sorrow forged into that mantle that wore him all these years, and to finally let it all go, well he did not know whether he could.
Suddenly he feels two warm hands snake themselves from under his arms and wrap across his chest. A woman's voice asks him if he was alright and he could say nothing else to answer her. "No one said it was going to be easy, Bruce," the woman consoles him, pressing her lips against his exposed neck. "But perhaps it's what needs to happen. What should happen."
"I should have died that night in Crime Alley," he started. "I wandered around until I came to the conclusion that I lived if not so I could rise to fight this, that it was to open my eyes to the darkness of the world. That was what I became, Selina. I am Batman."
"Only if you let it, sweetheart."
Again, he sighed and finally, with shaking hands, he pressed his hand on a plate beside him and the glow that lit the suits vanished into the shadows. He was indeed rather relieved, like a huge burden was being lifted from his shoulders. Over twenty years fighting in Gotham, but now it was time. It was time for him to let it all go now. He can't stop the bullets that would destroy his whole world, or live his life avenging those deaths.
With his fiancé's hands hooked around his arm, they met an approving yet sombre Alfred who offered his smile of assurance before opening the elevator doors. "Never again," says Bruce as the elevator lifts and he watches the cave systematically succumb to darkness. The platform holding his Batmobile…off. His armoury, no longer operational, even his vast collection of trophies vanished. Decades of struggle, his career. He was leaving the shadows, below. He was ascending into the light and never again would he fall into that crevice. Never again.
—WONDER WOMAN—
The first time Diana set eyes on that island she was leaving. Over ninety years ago she left with a man named Steve Trevor, her first love. They shared many adventures, fought a World War, faced Hitler himself who dared a quest for godhood and braved the realms of the Underworld itself.
She had lost them, her team. A merry and mismatched band of men and women fighting in World War II and she lost them all to that mad man.
The Warrior Princess had left her island of Paradise a young woman, and exchanged it for a world at war, until war followed her home in the form of Apokalyps, the hellscape that consumed everything and threatened her world, her every world.
Diana held onto the sail post and willed the boat onwards. A great mountain now lay towering before her, and a beautiful white beach lay at the feet of a pearly cliff side. There was no celebration welcoming her home, the Princess of Themyscira. Her mother did not come to greet her or scold her for leaving in the first place.
Once the boat touched the shining sand she wrapped a golden cloak around her body, clad in crimson armour, a golden eagle motif over her breasts.
She let the wind blow by as her feet touched ground. She had taken off her boots of blood red and lined with white gold— a gift from Hermes, and walked up until she got to some stone steps. Up those steps had taken her to the main city, a deserted ruin, a shadow of its former glory.
The news had gotten to her years ago that Ares himself was launching an attack on her home, Felix Faust in tow. They helped though, her and her friends, the Justice League. Never before, since Steve, have men set foot on Themyscira. But it was war, war on her home and she could not, would not let it vanish by the God of War's hands.
They fought…and they lost…
The Amazonians had devoted their lives to protecting this world. It was their duty to ensure that Creation lived on, at any cost.
Diana knew what her mother had planned, but it was too late. She rushed to the Temple of Athena and found the Queen had made the pact. The Amazons, every one of them save for Diana had turned to stone but so too did Ares and his army of the dead.
The Princess now stood in an empty throne room, an empty throne that should have been hers along with the responsibility of her people. But now…she had no people.
On her way to the Temple of Athena, she passed their faces. Her Amazonian sisters, frozen solid in stone as though they glimpsed the gorgon Medusa herself. She would have been able to tell them apart but for the armour and helmet that distorted their identities. She felt like crying before their feet, shouting out for forgiveness.
Had she been faster, or fought harder then maybe Hippolyta would not think to call on the ancient curse?
She stood before the altar of the Goddess of War Strategy and Wisdom, a grand monument among the rubble. Beside her was a tatue of a woman, prostrating before the Goddess in prayer. She bore the mark of the queen. This time the warrior princess did weep and down to her knees she opened up her arms to the Olympian.
Oh Pallas Athena,
The grey-eyed, clever one with a relentless heart,
Oh City defender, revered and courageous maiden Tritogeneia,
Daughter of Zeus and Metis whose craft and wit excelled among the mighty Titans:
Oh Pallas Athena,
I pray to you.
Wise in all things,
You have no equal in tactics or in strategy
Please be my guide,
Oh Pallas Athena,
You are the wisdom sought
By my wise men and those of royal court,
For you are the measure of things
That are as they are
Of things that are not
As they are not
Unspoken truth
Oh Pallas Athena,
You the spear
Never shall you miss
No question outsmarts
No secrets hidden
I am the question
You are the answer
Oh Pallas Athena,
Grant me a sound mind and steady temper,
Bless me with good judgment,
Show me the long view.
But there was no response. The heavens were silent. The Old Gods were dead.
Diana wiped away the tears and looked at the woman beside her, her stone cold eyes still conveyed her hopes and dreams, her pleading eyes for the Owl Eyed Auspice.
The Old Gods were dead.
"Mother, what have I done?" she sobbed onto the stone. "I feel like my world has come crashing down upon me like stones. Like Sisyphus and his cursed afterlife. The Justice League had failed you…I have failed you." Suddenly something tightened in Diana's heart. It lifted her to her bare feet, and she stared up at Athena's vacant eyes. Fists balled she prepared herself to swear upon the Divine Goddess. "But I promise, mother. By Zeus I swear I will free you and my sisters. Our legacy will not end here. It will not end with me!"
She drew out her sword…her Godkiller, and placed it atop the marble altar. But with hesitant fingers caressing her golden crown, she pulled it off of her raven head and set it beside the blade.
"I will come back for these, mother," she whispered. "When I find a way to free you, I will return for these…" She felt weak now, like she was cutting off an arm. "When I find a way to free you, I will return for Wonder Woman."
—SUPERMAN—
When Clark Kent opened his eyes and what could he see?
He saw a vast and open field of golden corn as far as the eye could see. A peaceful and tranquil place of home, held in its vaults the pleasant memories that made him who he was. He was Clark Kent, son to Martha and Jonathan Kent, best friend of Pete Ross and Lana Lang, local nerd and outspoken protector of the weak and the freaks.
But when he truly opened his eyes. He could see none of that.
He was in a fortress of ice and crystal. Nothing but silence surrounded him, his fortress of solitude. In that silence when he closed his eyes he could see his quaint little home in Smallville. He could see Shelby, his black and white American Akita pouncing about joyously. He could see Pete in the flat fields with a baseball glove and cap, waiting for him to throw the ball as though there was a chance Clark wouldn't troll him and launch it into the atmosphere. He could see a fiery red haired beauty coyly smiling at them from the fence.
Then he would look to the house and see a couple on the porch, witness to a bright and gloriously simple life laid before them. He called them Ma and Pa, and you him they were the source of light in his world. Strength and guidance—that was what they were, and right now that was what he was missing.
"Am I interrupting your trip on the nostalgia train?" came a voice from behind him. A teenaged boy that strangely resembled him at that age. "Because I could come back again later if you're expecting Diana to drop in soon."
"Nah, it's fine, Conner," he said and walked across a gigantic chamber where a group of four titanic statues of ice held up a large globe. Monuments to four of most important people that made him. His fathers, Jonathan Kent of Earth and Jor-El of Krypton, Martha Kent of Earth and Lara Lor-Van of Krypton— they were his parents. It would be the last reminder to him of those two couples he owed his life to. We are the people we surround ourselves with. "And don't worry about it, Conner. I'll be out of here in a jiffy and you'll have the run of the place."
"Some people might have killed to live here, Clark. But this isn't a weekend camping trip. This is important and apparently I drew the short straw."
Clark sighed. He was right. It didn't seem like a fair trade but Conner was an exact replica of him, a clone of Superman, he was made for more, not just a replica, he was engineered to surpass Superman. It was too much to ask him, but it had to be done. The Justice League was disbanded, the Titans were somewhat missing after the Inhuman Registration Act and even the Doom Patrol were MIA after Darksied's Invasion. Earth was no longer under Green Lantern protection so the future of their world was in a state of flux. Nothing was a definite, not security, not peace. Bruce reckoned that it was normal, that the world has never truly known peace, only a few moments where it was deaf or numb to the trauma around it. More than pessimistic view of the world in his opinion but he found Bruce right on more than one occasion.
"I'm sorry, Conner," he said earnestly. "Once again I must ask too much of you. But the world need you."
"Don't sweat it, sir. It's not like I refused or anything."
Still, it always felt wrong, asking this kid to sacrifice his life for the 'greater good'. He took a moment to just study the boy. A spitting image of him, like a son, yet despite his youth, he wore a kind of sorrow. A sorrow that frankly did not belong on such a young face—on his face. But did he really have much to smile about in this world? His friends were gone, his life was taken from him before it ever even began. "For the greater good…" he muttered.
—LEGACIES—
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Names and characters all belong to DC Comics and Warner Bros.
I don't know, this project has been bubbling in my mind for years and now I just need a channel for it all. Thus it will be replacing the one I had before. I don't know I just feel a bit better with this. Stay tuned...