Author's Note: here we go again, with me doing a sharp derivation (you might say) from the Infinite Crisis timeline that DC's given us so far, drawing on (yet again) evewnts from ym previous stories (Dreamers and Demons, Restitution, and most recently, Intelligence). In the wake of the League's fight with the Society at Goodwin Airport, Wonder Woman killed Dr. Light, Dr. Psycho killed Zatanna, Max Lord was in the custody of Superman at the Watchtower, and Batman was a prisoner of Brainiac and the Lex Luthor of the anti-matter Earth--where the Crime Syndicate rules with an iron fist. Now, Superman's out to retrieve Batman, while the core members of the Society wish to get their Luthor back--and kill the anti-matter impostor in the process.


Superman and Robin teleported into the Watchtower's Observation Deck and met the remainder of the League—the ones who answered the Martian Manhunter's priority call quickest—on the Observation Deck on the seventh level. The one with the high ceilings and the cathedral windows made of reinforced Plexiglas. Further protection was offered from shield generators embedded in the Moon's soil several yards below the Observation Deck. The shields were strong enough to deflect any coming bombardment—within reason.

Mere days ago, the core 7 members of the Justice League had met in this very deck to discuss Superboy's actions against the Teen Titans when he was under control of Lex Luthor. Now, they've returned to discuss Luthor's newest gambit—an all-out assault on the heroes at Archie Goodwin International Airport. When the dust settled, Dr. Psycho had killed Zatanna, Catman and Deadshot were incarcerated—as were Scandal and Cheshire. Dr. Light was dead—his neck snapped by Wonder Woman.

Superman stands on the highest platform at the far end of the Observation Deck, his cape draped around his shoulders, his posture slouched forward.

"You understand what you have to do?"

"Yes."

"Really? Because I don't think you do."

The Man of Steel stares at the stars thoughtfully for a minute before responding. He inhales sharply and turns away from the window. Back to the assembly of Leaguers before him. Closest is Aquaman standing rigidly on the next level down. Hal Jordan and The Flash stand at the back of the room, both of them displaying their uneasiness in different ways—Jordan leans against the wall, staring the floor and following the angled lines across the steel. The Flash paces nervously, his arms crossed over the lightning-bolt symbol on his chest. The Martian Manhunter sits in a chair in a corner of the room, across from Jordan and the Flash. Robin flanks him. It was Aquaman who asked Superman the question.

"I understand what she did, Arthur. I will find her."

"Oh I don't doubt that, Clark. But this is different," Aquaman says. He begins pacing. "Schott, Morgan Edge…hell, even Luthor. Those are people who have a history of this kind of thing. You can take them downtown in cuffs with relative ease."

"What's your point?" Superman asks sardonically.

"My point is that you can't just land on Themyscira and expect Diana to turn herself over. Nor can you go hunting for her."

"Arthur is right," the Martian interjects. "Diana has certain…rights."

Aquaman glances at the Martian for a moment and then turns back to Superman.

"You know what I'm talking about," Aquaman says; his eyes narrow and his voice cryptic. "Diplomatic immunity."

"You weren't there," Superman says. He cocks his head half a degree toward Aquaman. "She killed him. In cold blood, Arthur. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Don't question me, you incompetent—"

"Quiet," the Martian interjects. "Superman, we are aware that Diana broke the law. All Arthur is saying—"

"I'm saying you've got to do what has to be done—but within the limits of the law. We're here to serve and protect—not dominate."

"I will."

Hal Jordan, from the back of the room, raises an arm and speaks up.

"I think we should go in teams and look for her. Might be safer. Plus, we'll have a witness."

"Fine," Superman says dismissively. "J'onn, call Firestorm. He and Hal can look for Diana."

"What are you going to do?" The Martian asks.

Superman's eyes track across a few feet to see Robin. The Boy Wonder is staring with great interest at the floor.

"I'm going after Batman."

"How do you know where he is?" Robin asks.

"I've got a few ideas," Superman replies, and smiles.


Blackgate Penitentiary. Maximum Security Wing.

"Lawton's here, Warden."

"Outstanding, Hatcher, send him in."

Bound at the ankles and wrists by cold metal—not to mention chafing—shackles, Floyd Lawton stumbles into the warden's office. Behind him, the fat guard—Hatcher--pokes his nightstick into Lawton's rib. Each jab gets a grunt from Lawton, until the assassin manages to turn around and enunciate a very forceful profanity at the guard. Hatcher smiles and jams the nightstick in Lawton's kidney. Lawton sinks into the chair and stares hatefully at Hatcher. The guard ignores it and turns to leave. The warden watches him go, and goes back to the manila folder on his desk, its contents spread in a messy arc.

"A repeat offender, eh, Floyd?" the warden says, not looking up from his paperwork.

"Well, you know how it is, warden. It's late at night and someone passes you a pack of smokes; what would you do?"

"I'd know when to quit," the warden replies idly. "And this isn't about smoking. Last I checked, it was still legal to light up."

"Fair enough," Lawton says. "So what am I here for?"

The warden stops writing, looks up at Lawton and clasps his hands together on the desktop. "Are you joking?"

Lawton smiles.

"You were arrested by Green Arrow for aggravated assault and attempted manslaughter."

"When you're right, you're right." Lawton inspects his fingernails. "But as I recall, the last time you tried to put me away, I had my own get-out-of-jail-free card. Remember? Or do I need to give Spencer a ring?"

"The 'give-back' program's been abolished, Floyd," the warden says. He follows it with a quieter, more wicked: "For you, anyway. And consider this your holding cell."

"Was downtown full?"

"The small-times. Armed robbery, rape, carjackers. You know how it is."

Lawton sighs and stares out the window. The seas were getting choppy with the afternoon wind rolling in from the Atlantic. Signs of a storm on its way.

Lawton smiles. A storm. Right.

The warden's voice brings Floyd back to the present. "That's…quite an injury to your arm there." The warden points to a scab along Floyd's forearm. "What happened?"

"I tried to block a shot from Green Arrow," Lawton says idly. "Not a good idea, in case you were thinking of trying it." The warden shakes his head in dismissal.

"Your mother would be proud, Floyd."

Lawton's eyes narrow and he clenches his teeth. "Shut up."

"Officer Hatcher tells me you have some useful information for me?"

"Yep," Lawton says. He slides down into the surprisingly comfortably chair, risking a slouch. "That I do, and I think this is a beat you can swing to. It's about you, wouldn't you know."

The warden reclines in his chair, brings his arm up to his chin and starts gnawing intermittently on the pen tip. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Lawton says confidently. "See, the reason you fellas always win? There's no balance. No cops on our side, right. No prison to toss your people who wrong my people in—and that happens in abundance." Lawton holds his hands in the air—as much as the shackles allow—innocently. "You got the cops, the prisons, the politicians. It's a one-sided game, all right. Can't say I blame you guys though. Most people on your side of the fence aren't joiners and that's their stick."

The warden seems unamused. Lawton's eyebrow arches and he continues. "But how it is now…is some of the alpha males of our pack here, they're out to reshape everything. Society, bucko. That's what this is about—that's what they call themselves. But I wouldn't tell anyone about this, killer. Not if I were you."

Lawton notes that the warden seems really interested now. He leans forward in his chair and starts tapping his fingers on the table nervously.

"But that's just today, warden." Lawton's voice changes to a feigned tone of reassurance. "Some day—very soon—my friends are gonna ask you to open those gates, killer."

"Please…" the warden's voice echoes. Lawton stands and looks at the clock on the wall behind the warden's desk.

"Some friends'll be by to pick me up in an hour, warden. A new society, tough-guy. And when I tell you…you'd better damn well open those gates."


Brainiac's Skull Ship. 20,000 miles above the surface of the Earth.

"Batman? Are you still in there?"

A grizzled and barely discernable sound reaches Alexander Luthor's ears. It sounds like a yes. "Good to know," Luthor answers. "How do you feel?"

"Cold." Batman's voice is terse and forceful—angry, by his personal standards.

"Even through that suit of yours. Remarkable." Luthor taps his chin thoughtfully. "Can I get you anything?"

"Answers."

Luthor smiles. "You want to know why you're here."

"No," Batman replies. "I want to know why you're here. You don't belong here."

"Quite so," Luthor answers. He starts pacing, his armor clanking in its joints. "What I needed, the Syndicate couldn't provide. Or rather, they provided by dumb luck."

"And that was?"

"A way out," Luthor says, staring at the metal latticework of the ceiling above him. "You have no idea how many times I tried to save that world—the antimatter Earth—from those vultures. Ultraman was the worst, you know."

"So you escaped," Batman say expectantly.

Luthor snickers. "They underestimated me. It's a common mistake. When the Syndicate came to your universe some months ago, I found my way out of that deplorable limbo, crafted a suitable means of conveyance and followed their tachyon trail. It led me here—to the most prevailing power source my sensors detected."

"Brainiac."

"Yes. Little did I know what he had in mind, or who his latest ally was. This universe's Lex Luthor. And my oh my…what plans they had."

"And then you came along."

Luthor cracks a smile and nods. "Brainiac turned on your Luthor with surprising quickness. It seems even automatons have their price."

"You controlled Superboy," Batman says hatefully. "Sent him against the Titans."

"No," Luthor replies calmly. "That was yours. Where he failed, I picked up the slack and began implementing my plan."

"Which is?"

"As I said before my friend," Luthor says intently. "After countless failed attempts to save my world, I deduced that since the rules of matter and antimatter engagement had been revoked, I could try my hand on this Earth. So far, it's working surprisingly well."

"Then why don't you just steamroll the planet with Brainiac's help and go back? Why stay?"

"I intend to," Luthor says idly. "But I needed someone to come back with me. Someone of a mind as cunning as my own—someone who could help me rid my world of the Syndicate and everything they stand for. Someone who knows how they operate, and what lengths they'll go to…for preserving an ideal."

Batman's eyes narrow and he comes to a realization.

"I need you, Mister Wayne."


Author's Note: The scene with Floyd in Blackgate is borrowed, elementally at least, from Villains United #4, where Jack of the Royal Flush Gang hints at a massive jailbreak to be orchestrated by the Society.
Continued...