Prologue:

It was a flash of light and they were gone. For all the rest of them knew, they were dead, died together. Superman landed where his two friends were last seen. The rest of them were in dismay and disarray. They didn't know what was going to happen. It wasn't until Toyman said something derogatory that they all remembered what it is that they were doing. Superman flew up to the villain and was ready to punch him into the afterlife, but Green Lantern made sure to suppress the Man of Steel.

"Superman, please, it does no good." Lantern says, his voice strained. He just lost his friends, too, but he is at least mindful enough to know that neither of the heroes would have wanted to be avenged by vengeance and hate, no they would have wanted justice. He was going to make sure that that wish was honored.

Superman immediately regains composure, but he manages to punch the villain anyways, but just enough to knock him out, not kill him. He frowns, when the man goes down. Then they all look at the place where Batman and Wonder Woman were.

Hawkgirl flies down to stand next to Superman, "They're gone." Her voice is hollow, broken. Diana was her closest friend, partly because they were the only females on the league, but also because they were so like-minded.

They didn't know what to do now. Superman didn't know how he could possibly keep Batman's identity a secret. Alfred, Dick, and Tim would need to know, he would have to tell them. The others would begin to ask questions. He would honor his friend's wishes, but he didn't know how he was going to do that. Hopefully, Bruce had contingencies for this.

"I believe that it is right of us to inform the families of the deceased what has happened." J'onn voices exactly what Superman was just thinking. He'd be offended and accuse the Martian of mind-reading if he weren't so devastated and lost in his own right at this moment.

The rest nod, and J'onn turns to Superman and speaks, "I believe that since you are the only one of us who knew of Batman's identity you should go inform those who need to know, and the rest of us will inform Wonder Woman's family back on Themyscara.

"They won't accept us." Flash finally speaks.

"I will go, alone, it should be done with respect to their culture." Hawkgirl states, and with that she makes to take off in the island's direction.

"Take a Javelin, Hawkgirl." J'onn states.

She nods in agreement, "I will, but Superman should take it first."

Superman shakes his head, "No tracking devices are coming with me. I am going to fly over there myself…I will tell them."

They all nod in agreement.

Soon enough they dispatch the villain to the officials waiting and then depart for their respective jobs, the rest of them, those who weren't able to go to either place, return to the Watchtower, awaiting the meeting that was sure to take place. After all two members are gone, they would have to restructure themselves against that loss. Who knows, maybe they could do something to get them back, but it wasn't likely. It wasn't likely at all.

AN: Okay, so I am not trying to be one of those people who start a story and don't continue, but bear with me, I wrote out Look, Up in the Sky and nothing happened, I realized I had nothing. And since I am a die hard BMWW fan and have yet to see one of those with the Avengers, I've decided to let loose with this one, yes, I do have somewhere to go with this, and I have it practically finished on my computer, so the updates should be fast and painless. I would like at least three reviews before I upload again, but because of my unfaithfulness, I will continually upload until January, hopefully every two or three days, regardless, just for you readers who have been faithful to me. Oh, and btw. here is an excerpt from my book. PM your thoughts, please and also a large portion of it is available for download on just search Renatus for a book title and it will come up.

Here's an excerpt, let me know what you think:

Prologue: Starting a Legacy

It is strange, it seems to him. The entire world is circling him, clamoring for him to be guilty. Of course he knows the truth, no doubt, he did in fact do it, what is considered to be the most heinous act a man can do, but perhaps, that isn't quite right. Should such a deed be considered such sedition, when all other abhorred acts are so reconcilable in this culture? He thinks not, but alas he must await a time when he can bring up such an argument.

He lays in the middle of a holding cell. Guilty until proven otherwise, at least that's the way he sees it. Never mind the fact that he's, well, he can't exactly say innocent, now can he?

Hardened by long-living resolve, he looks up at the ceiling, although, that is not what he is seeing, well not completely anyways. He remembers as a child, that his father always made it his mission to teach him something every day. It was when his father took a Romanian delegate in that he started to see things the way he sees them now. If you want something done, you do it yourself, of course his father always taught him the opposite. Only take what you need and never give in to compromise, never do anything yourself, if you must lie, let another do it, delegate them to do it. It was his golden rule as a child, because his father said that when people come to blame someone for all the wrong, he rightfully cannot be blamed. He never understood the fact that people would listen to reason, people are irrational, always blaming others for their actions, even if they do not deserve it. It seemed his father's rule never abated him, because here he is, reaping the consequences of what he has done, by his own hand, he might add.

He remembers the day that he had first seen the harlot from Romania, so hopeful, her dark brown hair let loose around her head and neck, she was certainly beautiful, he can understand his father's actions, but as a child, he always respected his father, take what you need, do not get greedy. That is the only thing that he can attribute his little brother to, a product of greediness. The Romanian woman was never the same after she bore the child, hell when she found out that she was pregnant, she was shameful of herself, and hatred flowed within her veins. Like his father had told him, though, she could not blame him, he merely yielded to her desires, he could see it in her eyes, the moment that she realized that she herself was rightfully to blame. She grew to hate herself, mourn for this tragedy of actions that she had committed against herself and her beloved family, still awaiting her faithful return in Romania. She had to quickly inform them of a year's delay. He never did know what happened to her. He remembers hearing her contemplate aborting the unborn fetus, but then rescinded the idea as evil and loathsome as soon as she said it aloud. Her religion, everything she held dear claimed it as a horrible murderous sin. She bore the child nine months later, she left three months after that. He can remember being a young boy at the age of ten and hearing the screams and cries of the life that had just entered the world. He can remember his father's rare smile at seeing its gender. It pleased his father to be given another son. He was from then on and henceforth a big brother, but he did not want the job. He was ten years old, he had a palace of a home to himself, and he had everything he could have ever wanted at his beck and call. The little boy was seen as a curse, but he grew, still. It seemed to him that his father cared more about this little boy than he did for him. It was strange really. He watched the little boy grow up, estranged from his father, but still trying to earn his never-given out approval. His little brother sought him out instead. He can remember the day that his father saw this as a problem, he was fifteen, and his father told his little brother at such an impressionable age that he was a mistake, a trial and error child. His little brother was but five years old. He had grown to admire the fact that he was admired, he fell in love with the idea of it and from that moment on, he was stripped naked of it.

From then on, his brother's eyes, where they watched him with awe and wonder, now watched him with scrutiny and the type of intrigue that goes to a deformed man or a caged animal. It certainly was a change to the way things were. He, however, never sought to regain it, except maybe once, when he questioned his little brother upon what he was thinking. His little brother was smart, supposedly all the harlot's children were, her youngest legitimate son was rapidly, becoming a mental genius. He can recall that much from her long talks and ramblings.

He found his much-needed love somewhere else. It was when he turned eighteen that his father finally told him what to do. To a child that had no guidance, he needed it, craved it, and his father gave it to him. He told him to do something for himself, it went against all things his father had taught him, instilled in him. It was baffling. His love, was henceforth a means to an end. His father needed it done and would therefore get it. He, however, after accepting it, was torn from the house, from the palace he had called home, that had been his home. He was stripped of everything he once had, disowned. His father said that no one of the family does anything for themselves, therefore in order to do it he had to be rejected as a family member. He remembers the day that he finally left, as well as the days leading up to it. His brother's blue eyes, watching him with calm resolve, maybe unshed tears lurked in their depths somewhere, he couldn't be sure. The only thing he was given was access to a great lawyer, and a case file to study and build accordingly. He was told to treat it as his Bible and that one day if all goes right he will be worthy of the family once more. He had accepted the deed and therefore must perform, he after all needed his rightful place in the family again. He moved in with his love, and there he remained until just months ago, today.

Hearing of his father's death, struck him hard, he could only bewilderingly wonder what it was doing to his little brother. He misses something he should not, he mourns after something he hated. Yet he reveres both, loves both as he should, according to society. Cornelius, however, is an enigma in every sense of the word. He is ready to not just observe but act, and he has acted, according to his Bible.

It is by mere irony that the catalyst to everything is but a relative, as well. He would laugh at the idea of it all if it weren't so perfect. A family destroys, he imagines what will happen once the truth is found out, and surely nothing good can come from this? He knows that He will face tribulations, and he knows now what his father meant by being once again part of the family. He can never go back to the way things were, but he can develop a new one. The only thing he has to do is wait, because he has done everything else.