Disclaimers: The cartoon Young Justice and its characters remain the property of © Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, Cartoon Network and DC Comics Entertainment (Warner Bros.). All rights reserved to the original creators. No infringement is intended by this not-for-profit fan story that was written exclusively for fun.

Titled after the Crown the Empire song of the same name, because it's rather like the Runaways theme song. XD Cover image is artwork by me (hlwar on deviantART).

Rise of the Runaways
a Young Justice fan fiction

Prologue / Another Reign

"The readings are... okay."

"That is hardly a scientific appraisal, doctor."

"Well, I could offer 'fair', but in my scientific opinion even that is an optimistic stretch."

"On a scale from moderate to severe, you think their condition is closer to severe?"

"I wouldn't go so far just yet. There's still some time, but that's leaving them as they are now. What you've been suggesting—"

"May not be able to wait any longer."

"I've run several analysis and health scans, and I can show you the numbers..."

More numbers! How boring! As the two men—one in a fabulously pressed and expensive business suit, the other a worn-out dress shirt and slacks, hidden behind a white lab coat—continued to prattle on with their science, he turned his attention back to the long aisles.

Row after row of nothing but grey metal columns and smooth tubes, electronics giving off half-hearted light, and all of it housed inside a callous cement box without a single window. The most light came from the reflections off the tubing, the gel-like fluid inside giving a pale-blue, winding aura to the space. It was wonderfully dark and spitefully cold. It reminded him of home, and it was just as monotonous. So borrring! he thought again. Ancient frustrations rippled within him, making him frown at the memories percolating; he really wanted to huff out a sigh.

Instead, he wandered around the work stations, no more than another shadow in the room. The computers were bleeping and scrolling of their own volition, churning out numeric data and keeping tabs on automatic feeds: vital signs, IV regulations, future calculations. Blah, blah, blah. I shall die of boredom! Why was I even asked here?

I wonder, the other voice in his head mused. We've never been part of their genetic trialing before. I say though, I am vexed. These...things! Look at all these things! What manner of beasts are they? He could smell formaldehyde like second-hand smoke, and a hissing sound echoed softly from somewhere in the gloom. Mayhaps it is I they really want, to add to their collection?

Then too bad for them.

He snatched up a white coat left behind, slung over the back of an empty chair. Without care of ownership and draping it over his shoulders like a gleaming cloak, he sat into the seat with annoyance. He whirled it in a full circle once and then propped his elbows on the desk. He wasn't often a scientist, more of an adventuring scholar, but he knew his way into Technology's infrastructure.

It seemed his clacking on the keyboard announced his impatience because the voices rose. Suddenly, promising dialogue caught his ear. "Even with Savage still off-world, I think it's best we take this to the next level."

Finally the two men turned to regard the ageless youth. "What do you think, L-7?"

He chose to ignore them for a moment, pretending to be engrossed with his hacking. Then excitement prickled over his skin too greatly and he breathed happily, "Mmm, I think I like it when you call me by the code. It makes me feel like a super-spy!"

"I'm glad you think so, because this early stage will require a subtle touch and a good deal of anonymity. Are you up to the task?"

"Why, I do believe you think I'm incapable of working on the sidelines?"

"Secrecy is not Attention's middle name."

The boy wickedly laughed. "It is when I want it to be." He spun the chair again, halting it with a quick foot to directly face the men. He crossed his legs and tilted his head. "So what do you fuddy-duddies want from me?"

"You hadn't guessed? These are your new toys. Batteries already installed, and I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Aaahh, so it's that game again, huh? Excellent well! And I am allowed to play with the toys—just me? Till they break?" He received a nod in response and his black eyes sparkled as they took in the tubes, the boxes wrapping his unexpected gifts. "Then I can play by the rules."

For how long remains to be seen.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I will check in on you, of course, but running for a political office is quite an arduous under-taking so I won't be able to play for long. You may have full control of the board, but remember I will be monitoring the overall efforts. The game-play is still my design and I own the pawns."

The pale lips stuck out in a thoughtful pout, but the boy shrugged as if unconcerned either way. Still, he added with a rather defiant, warning smirk, "I've earned my place just the same as you, Lexie."

"Indeed you have, Mr. Bleak. I wouldn't have called on you otherwise. However, there is something you must do first." Klarion the Witch Boy's eyes narrowed as Lex Luthor offered a smile, both of them devilish in appearance. "You will need to procure our old team, so we can set the board properly."

"Oh? You mean this baby team?" Proving he had a sharper attention span than they were probably giving him credit for, Klarion reached over to the terminal he was working on and smacked the Enter key. A four-way split screen illuminated the computer's face, showing four minority teenagers with S.T.A.R. Lab files.

"Piece of cake. Right, Teekl?"

A hollow, low growl resounded, and suddenly the Familiar darted between the two men, making the scientist jump. The cat leaped onto Klarion's lap and meowed emphatically in affirmation.