"…so mister Brockwell will be changing the dosage of his blood pressure medication from five milligrams to ten, taken with breakfast."

Claire leaned back in her seat a little, stretching out her back that was slightly sore from having been on her feet all day the past few days for work. They had morning report every day at Metropolis State Penitentiary on all of the inmates, and while she recognized it was an important part of the day, she still at times felt like she would rather have teeth pulled than listen to half an hour of reports about everyone's steadily upticking blood sugars and blood pressures. It was inevitable, after all, with the slop they were fed.

"And next up on the roster is – your favorite patient, Claire," the charge nurse said, eliciting a chuckle from the rest of the nurses around the table. "Mister Alexander Luthor Jr."

Claire couldn't help but roll her eyes – there were times that, being the least experienced nurse in the infirmary, she felt like little more than a petulant child among adults, trying to play dress-up convincingly enough to not be sent away. This was one of those times. She sank slightly further down into her seat as the charge nurse went into report on their most illustrious patient.

"Mister Luthor may have a few medications onboard soon," the charge nurse said boredly, "if he's still on our roster for long after this new psych evaluation that just came in."

"He's had a psych eval complete since he was brought here," Claire pointed out, leaning forward gently. "What do you mean, if he's still on our roster?"

"The memo attached to this eval is that they may be considering it exculpatory," the charge nurse answered. "That means it might be grounds to reconsider his conviction –"

"I know what it means,' Claire interrupted, gently pinching the bridge of her nose – the other nurses around the table already bristled in their disapproval at her show of defiance, and the tension they felt towards her was palpable. That new nurse, she knew they were thinking, was still so hotheaded, always grousing about following directions. She could already tell it was going to be a bad day.

"What kind of psychiatrist would sign off on a psych eval like that?" she asked in disbelief, reaching her hand out to collect Lex Luthor's medical chart from the charge nurse, who simply scowled as she handed the file over to Claire. She briefly skimmed over the report before resting her eyes on the name of the physician at the end: Doctor James Cavendish, Director of the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Arkham. Claire had only just heard of the place for the first time when she'd begun her internship at the Wayne Memorial Clinic in Gotham City – it was a bit of a commute, but one of the few places where she could finish her clinical experience to become a nurse practitioner, so she could open her own practice like she had always hoped. Gotham was a different beast from Metropolis entirely, and it had taken time to get used to, but now that she worked in Metropolis State Penitentiary, she had stopped placing the city on a pedestal.

The day, to her surprise, seemed to go on without incident – the normal checks of vital signs on the inmates were unremarkable, and her interactions with Mister Luthor remained limited, as he managed not to get himself into a fight on the yard. When she did see him for his daily vital signs checks, however, she glanced him over as was her routine and realized a strangeness in his expression – something like defeat.

"How are you feeling today, Mister Luthor?" she asked in a prim, professional tone, looking down at her clipboard rather than at him. She only looked up when he failed to answer. "Mister Luthor?"

"Soon, it won't matter that I'm in here," he said vaguely, his tone taking on a strange quality between humor an panic, his words leaving his mouth in a rapid string of staccato. "Something far bigger is coming. Something far worse."

"What?" Claire asked, her brow furrowing in concern while she glanced over, taking a few steps to make sure the door to the exam room was closed. "If you think something is going to happen to you, if you think someone is going to harm you, you have to tell me –"

"Not me," he answered vaguely. "Something far bigger than me. Something that none of these simpletons would ever comprehend," he said with a grin tugging at his lips. "I'd have you safe if I could as well," he added with a dismissive shrug. "I can tell how much they despise you here, you know. The other nurses. They despise you because you don't despise me."

"I'm just doing my job. It's nothing personal," Claire said, quickly looking away. It was only now that she was remembering the full weight of the words she'd heard from the Bat Man himself – that Mister Luthor was growing fond of her. It had been so easy to dismiss at first, but now was no longer. And then, suddenly, she felt the question tumble from her lips as though it had fallen from a shelf in her mind and fallen out before she could catch it. "Did you have an evaluation done by a Doctor Cavendish, Mister Luthor?"

"I did," he said shortly. "I suspect it's made my situation worse? Like I said, I don't care anymore – this is far from over."

"I wouldn't assume so quickly, Mister Luthor," Claire said vaguely, knowing that she could say nothing more specific. "But you're going to miss lunch if I keep you in here longer."

"Always a pleasure, Nurse Claire," Lex smirked as he got to his feet. "Always a pleasure."


Claire wasn't sure why she found the exchange so unsettling, but it remained with her through the entire work day, through her entire commute home to her dingy flat. She needed a drink, badly.

She was already mentally perusing what she would have available to fill such a need in her kitchen as she was opening her front door, but when she pushed the creaky wooden door on its hinges, she realized immediately that first, it was colder than usual because the window was wide open, and second, that she was not alone in her apartment.

"Miss Branigan."

"Mister… Bat? Is that the appropriate title?" she asked, closing the door behind her and attempting to make light of the fact that her heart was now pounding. "I don't think there are rules of etiquette on how to address superheroes."

"Have you made up your mind?"

"He had an evaluation by a psychiatrist in Arkham," Claire retorted pointedly. "I know that place. I know what kind of place it is. And I don't have any doubts who's responsible for it."

"You were. Doctor Cavendish used your documentation to support his assessment," Batman responded. "You're an excellent nurse. Your notes were meticulous."

"That's not fair," Claire said, her mouth gaping in surprise. "I had to be detailed. Lex Luthor is the most high profile inmate I've ever had as a patient and I'm the newest nurse there, if ever something were to happen and it showed up that I missed something –"

"Are you willing to stand up in court and say that your documentation is only outstanding because you were covering yourself, Miss Branigan? That you perhaps weren't putting the same effort into your other patients?" he asked. "Because that's going to cost you your license. You'll never get to practice as a nurse again."

Her jaw clenched, and her arms stiffened at her sides – the Bat Man had her in a checkmate, and it was evident that he had done so with great intention. She fought back a sneer and instead drew in a deep breath. "I don't have a choice whether I help you or not, do I?" she asked,

"You always have a choice," he responded. "You can choose the way that will help us all, or you can choose the way that costs you the chance at fulfilling your dreams. It's still a choice."

At this, Claire was no longer able to help the expression of disgust that crossed her face – if Batman was supposed to be a hero, and this was supposed to be a way of delivering justice, then she had grown up with a very different idea of what justice was. She knew that Lex Luthor was a criminal, that he had done awful things, but she also was not a firm believer in the utility of vengeance.

"What do you need from me?" she asked in defeat.

"After I leave this evening, you're going to receive a phonecall," he explained slowly. "You're going to be cut from work due to budget constraints – you have already received funds in your account to hold you over. You will sign up with a nursing agency in Gotham, the manager will be waiting for you in the morning. And you will wait for further instructions."

"And Luthor?"

"He will be first transferred to the care of Doctor Cavendish in Arkham, and when the dust settles, Doctor Cavendish will see to it that Mister Luthor is positioned in a way where you will be able to monitor him."

"So until then, I just sit tight and wait for Master Bat to tell me what to do?" she retorted, walking a few restless paces. "Why is this happening?"

"As of now, all I need from you," he answered, avoiding direct response to her question of his reasons, "are sharp ears and open eyes. Like I said, it's easier to keep an on someone out in the open than when they're underground."

The response made Claire tense further – first and foremost, this was a patient. This was someone that she was charged in some capacity of caring for, and the almost predatorial air that the bat vigilante had for Lex Luthor left her feeling more than slightly unsettled. "This is terrible."

"You know what Lex Luthor is capable of orchestrating," he said with the utmost finality. "Helping us is the lesser of two evils."

"I think there are more than two evils, in all fairness."

"And you would be correct, Miss Branigan."

Claire Brangian's insight into her own situation – the insight that there were, in fact, a great number of evils surrounding them – lingered with Bruce even as he left her alone in her apartment, all along his trek back to Gotham. But he couldn't dwell too much on this part of his plan, when he knew that waiting inside, another part of his plan had yet to fall into place.


"I remind you, I am only here because of my respect for you," the long-haired, bearded man said, seated in a chair across from Diana Prince in the den of Wayne Manor as they awaited the master of the house. "Diana, the Amazons have been an ally of the kingdom of Atlantis for many years. I hope that you wager that alliance for a worthy cause."

"Arthur, please believe me when I tell you – Bruce is doing this with only the best of intentions. From one noble to another, I can assure you," Diana said gently. She, like Arthur Curry – Orin, as he was known in his own homelands – was wary of mankind and its worldliness, the state of disorder into which it had placed the civilized world. This was the reason that she, too, had retreated from mankind until now.

"Wayne Enterprises," Arthur said with disdain. "You think that I do not see the kind of man he is?"

"He is more than that," Diana assured. "Please, Arthur – just stay and speak with him. Give him a chance."

"I think you'll find my intentions pure, your Highness. Mister Curry," Bruce added as he entered the den – and in his home, above ground, he was just Bruce Wayne, just as his guests in his home were just Diana Prince and Arthur Curry. "I know you don't want to be here. I know this is a favor to someone you trust far more than you trust me," Bruce said, stepping forward and casting a glance in Diana's direction – humbly, she directed her gaze downward rather than playing up the part she had played in getting him here.

"I'm pleased that you recognize this," Arthur said, crossing his sinewy arms over his broad chest. "I have little incentive to help your cities. Your ships. Your factories. I left my life among these things long ago – and all of them are at odds with the interests of my lands."

"This is about more than cities and seas and tribes," Diana said, gently interjecting, placing a hand on Arthur's forearm. "This is something greater than all of us."

"What is greater than all of us?"

"That, I cannot yet answer," Diana said, her face shaping itself into a frown as she shook her head. "But it comes from another world, and it as great a threat to your seas as it is to the lands."

"And how do you know it is coming? How do you know it means harm?"

"Superman is dead," Bruce said simply, masking the pain that the statement brought him. "And because of Lex Luthor, the news has spread far beyond our reach. We cannot assume that anything that comes in a time of weakness is anything but an enemy, Arthur. I'm not royalty," he admitted, gently shrugging and opening his arms in a plaintive, vulnerable gesture. "But I have people here that I have promised to protect. And I need to know that I have a friend in you, Arthur Curry. I need to know that when the time comes, you will be our ally."

Arthur paused, looking once back and forth between Bruce and Diana, reading each of them carefully. He had grown up on land – had spent his young life not far away from these same cities, but it was because he had known them that he had become disillusioned. He felt no need to be a protector of these men.

But if things were as Bruce Wayne claimed, this was not a time to choose which men were worth protecting. Arthur gave a silent nod, and gripped Bruce's hand tightly when he presented it for a handshake. "If you call," Arthur said, looking back and forth between Bruce and Diana, "I will answer."