Everything going according to plan.

The truck backs into the warehouse at 11:04. Matt, except he's in costumes, so Mariner, leans down and whispers "All clockwork. We'll be done by three." A nod. Men get to work unloading the truck.

A beam spears through one of the walls, striking the cab of the truck. It melts in an instant. Men scramble to get out of the way. The odor of burning metal and plastic fills the room.

A pause. No one seems able to move.

Paul and Marie, Leviathan and Pompadour run from his office in the back of the building, pulling costumes on.

A cascade of lights breaks through one of the walls. Most go through the warehouse, punching holes in the opposite wall. Others overturn tables, dent machinery, spray powder in the air. A few hit the men who were unloading the truck. Whoever gets hit goes down and doesn't get up.

A shout from behind. Pompadour took a hit to the chest before she could pull her armor on. She's on the ground. Blood trickles out of her mouth and nose.

The lights let up for a second, then a section of the wall turns to slag and trickles to the ground. A figure jumps over the pool of liquid metal.

And then he screams.

Everything lightweight goes flying. Leviathan loses hold of Pompadour, and she slams into a support beam. Something cracks.

Concrete. That strange, almost pleasant feeling as the heart stops pumping, the lungs stop taking in air. Charging the figure, swinging wildly. He backs up, and light spears through the gap.

Darkness.

Mariner is on the ground, not moving. Leviathan is fighting a ten foot tall robot. The figure steps through the hole again. Have to be smart this time.

The figure steps into the light. Just a kid, wearing a homemade costume.

Move around him, sneak up, can knock him unconscious with a single blow.

Something clues him off. He bolts. He's fast.

Can be faster. Turn to human, concentrate on the insides. Melt into a wave of blood.

He turns his head, sees, stops. Turns, and screams again. Turn to concrete, sound glances off. Charge him again, he backs up. Doesn't see the piece of machinery behind him.

He slips, falls backwards. His head cracks on the concrete floor.

He isn't getting up.

His partner notices and begins pummeling Leaviathan with blasts of light. Leviathan grits his teeth and manages to grab the robot's hand. He uses his gravity manipulation to tear the suit to pieces. The man inside has a gun, fires once at Leviathan. Leviathan slams him into the remains of his suit. He doesn't move either.

Jane woke up screaming.

Seconds later, Matt ran into the room, concern wiping away the sleep from his face. He paused, his eyes conducting an automatic sweep, then moved to Jane's side. Jane collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, it's ok. Get it all out there." He said gently. He slowly stroked her back, holding her tight. He held her until the tears stopped flowing.

"Jane." His voice was nearly silent, and so gentle. "That man you were fighting. Warcry. They fucked up the surgery on him. He died, Jane. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. I wish I didn't have to tell you. But you need to know. And better from me than from the news."

Her mind was blank. Or opaque. She couldn't think. There was a fog inside her head. Everywhere. She couldn't get through it, couldn't see the end.

Matt was starting to look worried. She should say something.

"Ok."

He smiled a little. "I'm going to stay with you. Sam'll be here soon. Anything you want, just ask. Even time alone. We'll understand."

He would, wouldn't he?

Of course he would, he's a killer.

Is Sam a killer too?

You're a killer.

Had he gone through this with Sam? Or had it not been needed?

Can I trust any of them?

Why are you so busy pretending not to be like them?

I killed someone.

Matt shifted slightly. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"You know I was a marine, right? It's where I met Sam. Two tours, one in Iraq, one in Afghanistan. In Afghanistan, my convoy got hit by an IED. Killed two of my squadmates. The story after that's… complicated. But in the end I blew a man's brains out, all over the desert floor. So some of what you're feeling, I understand. Not all of it. I won't pretend that. But enough that you shouldn't be afraid to say anything to me. No matter how bad it sounds. Ok?"

"Ok."

Jane broke off the hug. Matt sat there, waiting. Jane didn't say anything.

They both heard a door open.

"That'd be Sam." Matt said, standing up. "Shout if you need anything, ok?"

He walked to the door, then looked back and flashed a smile. "You'll get through this. You're strong."

And then he left.

Jane was alone.

She could hear voices as Matt and Sam talked, but couldn't make out any words.

Outside, thunder rumbled. Jane turned over and stared at the clock. 5:08 A.M., January third. The minutes crawled by.

As the storm outside increased in intensity, Crane drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"You ready?" Sam- Deluge- asked as she squeezed her shoulder.

Crane nodded.

They entered the room side by side.

Even at the most normal of times, The Septembrists weren't big on formality. Not that they were undisciplined, exactly. It was more like everyone was comfortable enough with the dynamics that they didn't feel a need to show outward signs of it.

And it wasn't like the setting was the most formal. They weren't in a secret underground base or a death ray laboratory. Or anywhere even vaguely associated with The Septembrists, where the Justice League could find them by sheer happenstance.

No, they were in Viceroy's brother's house. In his living room, to be precise. Viceroy was talking to her brother in the corner. Crane could make out a few words.

"-back in three hours. Should leave you plenty of time." Viceroy's bother said.

"Thank you. We won't be long." Viceroy said.

Her brother looked away.

"You could run." He said, his voice, pleading.

"You know I can't do that." She said, her voice going soft.

"Susan…" he began.

"I'll be fine. It's me, remember?" She gave a light laugh, but it was obviously she didn't feel it.

"I remember." he said, a distant look in his eye. Then he turned and left. Viceroy's eyes followed him for a moment, then turned to Crane and Deluge. "Take a seat." she said.

They sat down on a couch. Mariner came in and sat next to Deluge. Almost absent mindedly, he placed his arm over her shoulder.

It was sometimes easy to forget that Viceroy could topple skyscrapers. She looked like an average woman, mid-thirties, who hadn't slept much in the past few days. She didn't look like she exercised much, but with her powers she wouldn't really need to. She was dressed casual, just jeans and a top. Crane knew that in another life she could have been a minor executive at some big firm, always throwing herself completely into whatever came her way, forgetting to make any time for herself. But Fortune had intervened.

Crane wondered sometimes what she would have been if Fortune had not intervened on her behalf.

What would Warcry have been?

She shoved the thought to the back of her mind and concentrated on the room.

Miracle Man, in contrast to Viceroy, looked every inch the superhuman. Muscular and attractive, he moved with an innate confidence. He nodded to the room at large before sitting in the chair directly to the right of the armchair where Viceroy had settled herself.

Odd that I think of them and as Viceroy and Miracle Man. Crane mused to herself. Even Mariner and Deluge I don't think of by their names. And none of us are in costume.

But this wasn't a friendly meeting, this was business.

Algorithm came in next, dressed in his usual white dress shirt and slacks. He surveyed the room the way he always did, then sat in a folding chair on the opposite side of the couch Crane shared. He pulled out his phone and began typing madly. Crane glanced over and saw what looked to be a complicated piece of code.

A pillar of pure darkness appeared in the center of the room. Crane felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Never going to get used to that.

The pillar resolved into two figures. One staggered, but the other held her up.

Pompadour got her crutches under her and managed to stand under her own power. Night released her grip from Pompadour's shoulder and stood back.

Crane watched as Pompadour slowly made her way to a recliner next to Crane.

Pompadour looked exactly like someone who had performed surgery on themselves in the last forty-eight to correct internal bleeding should. Her normally short, neat black hair that she hid under a blonde wig while in costume was in disarray. Her face was drawn.

Matt had assured her that Pompadour had performed the surgery better than any doctor could, and there was less of a trail this way, but still…

Crane felt a light touch on her shoulder. She looked over, and Pompadour had leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was staring intently into Crane's face. Then she smiled and dropped her arm back to her side.

Meanwhile, Night had taken a seat next to Algorithm. She looked the same as always, face hiding in the deep shadows of her dark blue cloak.

They'd recruited her nearly three months ago, and Crane doubted she knew Night any better now than she had then.

Leviathan was the last to enter. He swaggered over to take a seat directly to Viceroy's left.

Viceroy stood up.

"Now that's everyone's here, we need to decide. What do we do?" she asked, looking each member in the face.

No one said everything. Algorithm looked down at his feet.

"You know what we're up against. Half the Justice League is here, including Zauriel, Jon Stewart, and Luthor. These aren't stupid or weak opponents. They're experienced, they're coordinated, and they can call for reinforcements. They outnumber us. And they don't intend to lose."

Leviathan stood up. "We fight them. We drive them off, make it not worth their while to stay here. Make sure they have a better use of their time. We have money. We can hire help from outside."

Crane felt Deluge shift.

Miracle Man spoke up. "What does the boss say?"

Viceroy waited a moment before responding. "That he trusts our judgment."

Nobody spoke. They all knew what that meant. They were being hung out to dry.

Crane felt Deluge move to nudge Mariner. He reluctantly stood. Deluge stood up, showing none of the same reluctance.

Mariner opened his mouth, said something to the effect of "ah…" then closed it. Deluge looked at him, rolled her eyes and addressed the group. "You all know me and Mariner have been talking about leaving for awhile. Getting out, spending the rest of our lives spending the money we've made. And now, with this, it seems like a good time. There's no point in fighting the League. We won't win. We've all made enough money. More than enough. Why don't we just enjoy it?"

Mariner found his voice. "No matter what the rest of you decide, the two of us, we're out. We won't help fight the League. Probably not even staying in Omaha."

Silence.

Then "Cowards." came hissing from the other side of the room. Leviathan stood with his feet spread wide, glaring at Deluge and Mariner.

"No," Mariner answered. "We're not."

"Yes, you are. You stay for the easy money, but at the first real sign of trouble you bail? You back out? That's what cowards do. You're cowards."

"That's not it at all. You know-" protested Deluge.

"Sam. Matt." Viceroy spoke. There was no emotion in her voice or face. "You've made your point. If you want out, no one here will stop you. But you have no more voice here. Leave."

There were times where it was impossible to forget this woman was Viceroy as well, Crane reflected.

Sam and Matt stood for a moment. Matt turned to look at Crane. Crane just shook her head. Matt nodded and said "Come around any time. We'll be around for awhile." Then he followed Sam out the door.

For a long while, no one said anything, each preferring the company of themselves.

I just need enough money for the rest of my life. I'm newer here, I don't have enough.

You're lying to yourself. You love the power, the control. It makes you feel important.

Then, in a voice that sounded rusty from disuse, Night said "I agree with Leviathan."

Everyone turned to look at her, expecting something more. But she was silent.

Viceroy stood. "Sam and Matt were right about one thing. We have a lot of money. Enough that we can afford to stay under the radar for awhile."

Leviathan looked up. "The boss-"

"Will deal." Viceroy finished for him. "We can outlast the Justice League. No way they can stay here forever. They'll have to move on soon, especially if we vanish for a bit. That'd mean to powers, no costumes, no connections to our businesses, legal or illegal. We let our guys handle things for us. Me and Algorithm will still supervise, but it'll all be from a distance. We won't appear in person until the League has left."

Crane could see a few heads nodding.

"No." It was Leviathan again. "If we aren't visible, the League can't hit us, but we can't be in control. The second they think they don't need us, it'll be over. We'll be throwing away everything we've fought so hard to get. We'd have to fight to get it back, and the League won't be blind to it this time around."

Viceroy shook her head. "But we probably wouldn't be facing half the League, like we would be now."

Leviathan smiled. Not a nice smile. That's a shark's smile. Crane thought. "We don't have to face half."

"What do you mean?" Viceroy had her eyes narrowed.

"You're right, we do have a lot of money. I just spent some of mine. Made a few calls, got something placed in police headquarters. Kept the people who did it around too. They might be amenable to providing some additional firepower. Got a line on three guys in Toronto. And Grundy, over in Minneapolis. It won't be cheap, but we can beat them."

"You think we can beat Zauriel? And after we blow half the League up, you think Doctor Fate or Metron wouldn't take a sudden interest?"

"I think we can contain Zauriel for the time being. It's not exactly a normal bomb."

"No." Viceroy's face was set.

"Why don't we vote on it?" Leviathan's tone was mocking. He's thinks at least two of the others, plus Night, will vote with him. Who? Miracle Man? Pompadour?

Viceroy looked at him, appraising. Her eyes bored into him. By contrast, Leviathan looked relaxed, but Crane could see his fingers tapping rapidly on the side of his leg, hidden from Viceroy's sight.

"Fine." Viceroy sighed. Leviathan smiled again.

"Who'se for taking the fight to the League?" he said, spreading his arms wide.

Only Night raised her hand. Leviathan looked around the room, eyes narrowing as they passed Pompadour. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Sorry, mate." Miracle Man said. "But I'm not fighting those guys. Luthor and Stewart are bad enough, but that angel… I'm not going anywhere near it."

Algorithm looked up from where he sat. "We would lose." he intoned quietly, as if it was an undeniable law of the universe.

"I just want to make money, run things. Fighting the League gets us nothing." Crane found herself saying.

Night turned her head to look at her.

"Then it's settled. We'll stay in the background until the League leaves, no powers in the meantime. We stay home, take a well-deserved vacation. Pompadour can recover. And Leviathan?" Viceroy said, not even bothering to look at him "If you fuck with me on this, you won't have to worry about the League finding you."

And the meeting was adjourned.

Jane returned to her apartment a half hour later. It wasn't what you'd expect the home of a supervillain whose daily income could be measured in the quintuple digits. It was, in a word, sensible.

That was what happened when one of the teammates was a number guy.

The day Crane had joined the Septembrists, she'd gotten a forty-five minute long lecture about keeping tight control of her finances, spending only so much as the fake job she had at Omaha Motors, owned by the Septembrists through intermediaries, would allow. People noticed if twenty year olds started buying mansions, apparently.

Not that Jane would really have spent it all. Probably.

But it had allowed her to buy a cat.

Which a man was now stroking as he sat on her sofa.

Which was very creepy.

The man didn't seem intimidated by the girl made from steel, courtesy of a toe ring, that was standing three feet from him.

Which was very scary.

"You must be Jane!" he smiled. "I've very pleased to meet you. Sorry for all this, but we really needed to talk. I'd stand, but…" he indicated the cat on his lap with an apologetic smile.

Alarm bells were ringing in Jane's head. The man seemed friendly, but there was a very small number of people who would not show any fear to being confronted by a supervillain after invading their home. Usually those people had powers themselves. The ones who didn't were even scarier. They were either insane or highly confident, usually for good reason.

The man flashed his smile again and took the cat off of his lap. She padded into the kitchen. He stood up, stretched, and extended a hand. "My name's Guardian. Well, not my name name, but you get it."

Jane didn't move to shake his hand. Too much of an opportunity for him to strike.

He shrugged and dropped his hand down to his side. "You're suspicious. I'll just get to business then."

He cleared his throat and looked her directly in the eye. Only a trace of the earlier friendliness remained. "At some point in the near future, the Justice League will manage to track down the Septembrists, and they'll attack. You'll fight back and lose. You'll spend much, or the rest, of your life in prison. With your power, not Belle Reve. You'd probably end up as one of those who just get disappeared. Too dangerous to have contact with the outside world. Especially after Warcry."

Jane looked him over. "And you're… what? Offering to help fight against the League?"

Gaurdian maintained his composure for a moment and then burst out laughing. "God no! I couldn't sway the balance there. What I am offering is a way for you to escape."

Jane shook her head. "Already had a chance to leave today. Didn't take it."

Gaurdian smiled again. "I phrased that poorly. I'm offering you a job. Well, kind of. My employer wants you to perform a single service, you get paid a decent chunk of cash- ten million- then you have the option of either taking a job, receiving addition five million dollar payments for the same service at six month intervals, or just taking the ten million and never hearing from her again."

That sounded too good to be true. Which meant it was almost certainly true. Any smart opponent would have made it more believable.

One nice thing about being made of metal was that it really cut down on the body language.

Jane let Guardian stand there for a minute. See if he'd lose that smile.

He didn't.

"And let me guess, you couldn't tell me who this boss is…" she eventually said.

"If you want to know, I'll tell you."

Well, that was…unusual.

"Sure." Couldn't hurt to know.

He shrugged. "Mercy Graves."

Oh.

Despite the whole made of metal thing, something in her face must have changed. "You've heard of her then." Guardian said.

Of course she had. It was hard not to hear about the woman who was co-running one of the world's largest corporations despite being barely thirty. And who had once beat up the guy who tried to mug her, pulverizing his kidneys and putting him on dialysis for the rest of his life. Which she had then generously decided to pay for.

"Right, then." said Guardian. "I'll leave you some time to think it over. Few things first. One, the service you're wanted for isn't illegal. Isn't even immoral. Actually, it might technically violate mining regulations, but whatever. Not the point. Second, if you want to take the job or just want to talk more about it, say 'I ship Drogo and Cthulhu' and someone will come up to you and say 'North Korean bubble tea is yum' and we'll be talking inside ten seconds. I trust neither of those phrases come up in your everyday conversations?"

Jane shook her head.

"Good, good! Then I'll be out of your way, and you can go back to laying low. Personally, I'd go with a TV binge on Netflix." He walked out the door.

Then promptly poked his head back in. "And I think it goes without saying that all this stays between us."

January 10th, 2012

She'd driven for three hours, passing into Kansas around dawn. She'd packed a spare costume, from her early days with her powers. By her current taste, it was too derivative of Superman.

She parked the car in the center of a deserted field and quickly changed into the costume. No need for some random guy bird-watching to get a picture of her face.

She pushed off from the ground, floating lazily. The sunlight streamed down from the cloudless sky.

She went higher and higher, gradually picking up speed. Eventually she stopped.

At this height, everything seemed to fall away. She wasn't Susan. She certainly wasn't Viceroy.

She was just a fish in the sea, a falcon in the sky. She was at home. At peace.

She pushed with her mind and her body responded. She accelerated to fifty miles per hour, a hundred, two hundred, to the point when the ground was a blur, where she could pass over towns in the blink of an eye. She could feel the pressure of a sonic boom welling up around her, then being released in a burst of energy.

She didn't stop until she was over Texas.

Then she closed her eyes and simply allowed herself to float.

Some people meditated, others prayed. She did this.

When she opened her eyes Zauriel floated two meters in front of her.

Herald slowly banged his head against his desk on the Watchtower. He had been shuttling in and out of Omaha for over a week. The case was rapidly losing steam. No sign of The Septembrists had been discovered. Everything in the Omaha underground was running smoothly. Huge piles of paper filled Herald's room, all telling him precisely nothing.

Luthor was being forced to pull members of the League off the case, putting them onto other concerns. Gypsy was in Boston; Red Tornado in Anchorage. Herald knew he was next.

A famine was brewing in East Africa. Convoys of trucks were lining up at Luthor's warehouses across America, Canada, Europe, Australia, and Japan, ready to distribute food. They only needed a shortcut. Cameras would be everywhere, selling the Justice League and Luthor.

It wasn't that Herald minded doing the humanitarian stuff. It was just a little boring.

The fights, though; those were what he lived for.

But he was in less and less of them these days, and it looked like he wouldn't be in this one either.

The speaker in his room buzzed. "All members of the Omaha team, please report to the Bridge."

Or not.

Herald stood and opened a portal, reveling in the feeling of bent space-time.

He stepped through.

Viceroy floated in the center of the bridge, unconscious. There wasn't a mark on her. Zauriel stood off to the side, talking to Luthor, who was grinning.

"All right!" Luthor shouted. "We're going to Omaha!"