18 months ago

Ellesmere Island

Although most of the island is covered in snow and ice and is inaccessible, there are parts that are rocky and clear, and there is some vegetation – mostly moss. The Mountains of Grant Land are a jagged chain of rocks encompassed in ice nearly a kilometre thick, and it is near them that several square miles have been cordoned off as teams of scientists and analysts study the rock and ice in an area that used to be buried. Ten miles away are a series of caves that have also been long buried under ice and snow. At the foot of a cliff the ice shifts, threatening to crumble and fall and create an avalanche. A tunnel has been formed recently, and the area around its mouth is slick with ice, while small and newly formed stalactites cling to the roof. Over a mile deep, half a dozen robots burrow away with heat-tipped drills and 'flat-iron' compressors digging into the dense ice and shoring up the tunnel's walls. The ice-wall at the end of the tunnel cracks and breaks and hiss sound escapes into the tunnel. The lead robot pauses to assess the situation before a flat-ended probe extends and pounds against the ice like a battering ram. The wall caves in on itself a little and the robot uses its battering ram again and the ice falls away, backwards, and reveals a small cavern.

A couple of robots behind the lead one scamper across the threshold and begin to scan the area. After a couple of moments and a series of beeps they shuffle to the side, shift and morph, and illuminate the areas around them. The cavern is filled with stalactites and stalagmites but, in the middle of it, is a small pile of rocks that looks like it has been melted together. Etched on the wall at the mouth of the cavern are drawings of shields and images telling a story of how something massive fell from the sky and how, from that object, came a being, wounded and dying and raging; how it wrought destruction and then fell; how they feared to go near it until another being came and buried it and sealed it.

A couple more robots come forward and position themselves around the grave and being cutting into the rock.

8 months ago

Officials Seize Hidden Alien Tech - Daily Planet online article (extract)

"War breeds innovation", according to many, and "is the driving force of human civilization". There are, however, those who contend that invention (or innovation) is the mother of war.

"There's a war coming," said Doug Atkin, CEO of the NAW Group, prior to his arrest this morning. "It might not be because of aliens invading us, but war is coming. People have seen what's possible. It's not fiction anymore and we would be foolish not to be ready or grab any opportunity to make sure we're the last ones standing."

There was an abundance of zealousness in the boardroom as the Special Crimes Unit, working in conjunction with several federal and international agencies, moved in and arrested not just members of the board but numerous tech staff and supervisors in NAW's corporate headquarters and, across town, in its R&D buildings.

"The fact is a lot of supposedly powerful people across the globe are scared, so there's a lot of money to be made and very quickly," according to an agency source, "but, more than that, these items are dangerous beyond just being potential weapons. For the most part, we don't know what their power sources are, and we don't know if there are any pathogens. We simply don't know a lot of things right now."

Since the foiled invasion there have been numerous reports and instances of what appeared to be "caches of alien technology" uncovered across the globe. Experts, however, have pointed to the overall lack of Kryptonian debris outside of Metropolis and the island and have expressed doubt over the authenticity of some of the finds.

The actual availability of Kryptonian technology is quite limited, with the vast amount located in the area where the World Engine was destroyed. Although it is known that the Kryptonian ship that survived the Metropolis Incident headed north, its exact whereabouts are unknown.

Dr Magnus of S.T.A.R. Labs is of the view that "right now there is a major shift in world power. America is no longer seen as the strongest nation and its arsenal is no longer considered the most powerful."

The Batcave

'This night was supposed to be ours!' cries a shrill voice. 'Calendar Man and Clock King!'

'The fates, the timing, this bread!'

'The Lughnasadh!'

'The Lammas!'

Grunts and groans can be heard and then, on the large screen that forms the main console, the unconscious images of two costumed males appear. One wears a dented clock-face mask, the hands fixed at ten minutes past ten, and a royal-esque cape; the other a red trench coat engraved with dates and occasions, and the months of the year tattooed in a band around his head.

Green and grey images flit across several other screens, and there is laughter.

'C'mon,' says a young voice, 'all you have to do is push off a little harder and tuck your head in little sooner.'

'It's inefficient,' growls another voice. 'That split second extra in the air is all someone needs to get a bead on you.'

'But it's cool! You know you love to fly!'

Grey and green images of the city pan across the screen and then the 'camera' angles down and, a few feet away, a boy with dark hair and a short cape is crouched between the shoulders of a gargoyle, the two of them looking out over Gotham.

'They are a bit weird, though,' he says. 'I mean, stealing an ancient loaf of bread in order to bring about an apocalyptic harvest isn't exactly normal, right?' He shifts a little and then springs backwards, somersaulting and landing gently. 'Like we're ones to talk,' he grins.

'I'm hoping you can help me,' says a new voice and the images swirl and stop at a wall bathed in shadow. The colours shift and letters appear at the bottom of the image as the 'camera' switches between modes in order to get a better visual. All that can be discerned is that there is a large man in jeans and a t-shirt hiding in the shadows.

'Holy rooftop encounter, Batman!'

'I didn't mean to startle you,' says the voice, quivering a little. 'I…I thought you might have heard me approaching or something. I've been looking for you and I want you to teach me.'

'Go home, kid,' rumbles the second voice.

'Please.'

There's the sound of heavily compressed air being released, followed by another, and then the images rush towards the ground and arc and rise.

'I've uploaded the remainder of Professor Winton's journals.' says Alfred, as he sets down a food-laden tray. 'Ms Gordon's algorithms are cross-referencing them with the lab notes and data you pulled from the old servers.' He gestures at the screen and the 1998 date-stamp and asks: 'An old case?'

'A potential answer.'

'To?'

'Who that was.'

An image of the man in the shadows is frozen on the screen and small analytics-boxes appear – with text and code scrolling through them – before the computer announces that "Facial recognition is impossible".

'You said he was fast. Gifted but untrained.'

'Now I think he may have been something more.'

'More?'

On the screen, the Batmobile is viewed from above and then seems to rush in closer, as if a camera has zoomed in on it. The tops of boots and parts of what look to be thighs are visible at the bottom of the footage. The roof of the Batmobile shifts and draws back to reveal the cabin and the caped boy leaps onto the headrest on the passenger side and holds a handstand.

'He wasn't from Gotham. He told us that much, but he knew the rooftops. He knew our route, and he got there faster than we did.'

'He also knew who you were, I recall.'

'I told myself I was mistaken. That it was just a side-effect from the gases Calendar Man and Clock King had used earlier. The cowl wasn't configured to record it and Dick didn't hear it.'

'He wasn't wearing the amplifiers.'

There's brief swirl of movement and small objects whizz away from the 'camera' towards some dumpsters. A hand is extended into the only light source and in it are three batarangs.

'I'm more than I seem, sir. I can promise you won't be disappointed.'

'I already have a partner,' growls the voice. The 'camera' turns briefly and the caped boy can be seen crouching on the roof on the Batmobile, ready to leap into action.

'I'm not here to take his place. I'm just here to learn and to help.'

'Go home, kid. You're a long way from Kansas.'

Bruce pauses the footage and turns to Alfred. 'His accent was a giveaway, and he didn't say anything about who I was, which only reinforced my belief that I had imagined it earlier. As strange as the whole thing was, and even though this was a little after we had begun to suspect someone had learned who we were-'

'Dick always called it the "Moriarty Discovery".'

Bruce smiles, sadly, 'Always.' He allows the footage to continue:

'If you would give me a chance,' says the t-shirted young man in a deeper voice, 'I can help. The work you're doing, it's why I'm here. Please.'

The footage freezes again and the computer plays another recording – an audio-only one: 'The Kryptonians were attacking on multiple fronts.'

"Voice analysis complete," it announces. "Eighty-six percent match."

'Oh,' says Alfred.

'At least we have one truth: he has been on Earth for a while.'

Kent Farm, Smallville

It's night and Martha and Clark are standing at the fence bordering the farmhouse garden, looking out over the moonlit fields of corn.

'I hoped it would get easier,' says Clark.

'Hasn't it?'

'A little. Only-'

'You thought they would be more accepting by now?

'Hoped.'

'We always knew it would be hard if you ever did come forward, Clark. I thought it may have even been impossible, but, despite everything, your father believed that if and when the time came then everything would fall in to place.'

'There are so many people out there who need me to do what I can do, and there are so many who want to stop me or try to tell me that I'm doing things wrong.

'Sometimes, at the camps, when I carry in the food and supplies, seeing and hearing their thanks, I feel their hope. Then, in other places where I see and hear the greed and machinations, I wonder if I should be doing things differently. This farm, and places like it, maybe I should be here doing something that will last instead of out there doing something so...temporary. Maybe Dad was right and growing food-'

'Oh, be serious. This place would never have been able to keep you. Your ears would never let you shut out the pleas for help.'

Clark looks to the sky for a moment and then turns to Martha and says, 'I can't be me anymore.'

'You're you now, aren't you? The cape doesn't define you, Clark, and it never will. You held back because the world wasn't ready-'

'It still isn't.'

'It's a truth we tried to protect you from and then help you with: People hate what they don't understand. Be their hero, Clark. Be their angel, be their monument, be anything they need you to be… or be none of it. You don't owe this world a thing. You never did.'

'This world gave me you. I owe it for that at least.'

Martha smiles and says, 'Silly,' and they embrace. She pulls away and looks at him a little more seriously. 'How are things with you and Lois? She hasn't been here for a while.'

'She's well. We're okay. We're just-'

'Busy, I know. You tell her to take it a little easy, okay?

'Like she'll listen to me,' he laughs, and they hug again.

The Wildcat Gym in Gotham needs several coats of paint and a couple of deep cleans, but it's a popular training ground for boxers despite the way it looks. Some are of the view that it's popular because of the way it looks. And smells. Thirty years ago, after his father was found shot dead, Ted Grant III inherited the place, and he hasn't changed much about it since then.

The ring at the back of the gym is relatively new compared to most of the equipment, and was installed long before the sport using octagonal fight rings became popular, and it's also around four times larger. Although the Sweet Science is dear to Ted's heart, he, and his father before him, have long advocated learning from the various styles of the martial arts world.

Friday nights at Wildcat is the Rumble. On average, fifty-three fighters take part in a competition akin to a 'winner stays on'. It starts with two fighters facing off, with the winner of that fight then facing two other fighters. If the first fighter defeats both newcomers he then faces three new ones, and then four and so on. If the winner of the first fight loses against the two fighters in the second fight then they fight each other and the winner of that fights two others and so on.

Tonight is a special night – for the first time in a long time, Ted Grant III put out a call to 'the best of the best', and the 'best of the best' are losing to a man in a stained white mask.

The man is hurt – there are bruises all over this body – and is breathing heavy, but the final four fighters are wary. The crowd urges them to move in and fight. The masked man stands, arms to his side, and breathes and waits. His fingers twitch and blood slowly runs down them from under his gloves. Three of the fighters move in together, rushing at him, and he turns suddenly, snapping out a side-kick at the one in front of him while grabbing the forearm of the one to his left and pulling him round and into the one coming in from the right. He spins again, lower, and drives his elbow into the stomach of the one he had pulled before turning again and grabbing him by his face. He lifts him up into the air and then slams him into the ring-floor. The one that had been hit with the side-kick rolls on his back, from side to side, covering his face with his hands as he tries to breathe.

The fourth one steps in suddenly, coming in low and then turning on the ball of his right foot before snapping out a kick with his left. He misses and, as he continues the turn, the masked man dashes in and 'body checks' him, and then drives his fist into the fighter's face.

The crowd roars, demanding more, and the masked man stands near the middle of the ring for a few seconds before bowing to the last of his defeated opponents. The gate to the ring is pulled open and Ted gestures at the stairs while scowling at crowd as some of them try to push forward.

'You're really back?' he asks, as he closed the door to the changing room and shut out the noise.

Checking over his injuries, the only response from the masked man was: 'Hnh.'

'I can still see your right cross a mile away, though,' Ted laughs and pats him on the back. It's almost like a father expressing pride in his son. 'It's good to see you again. Is this it? Are you ready?'

'I think so,' he replies as he flexes his fingers and begins to loosen the wrappings. His voice is deep and rough but almost a whisper – so much of one that Ted leans in a little in order hear him better.

'And the kid? The first one?'

It's only a split second but it's long enough for Ted to notice – a pause as he unwrapped his right hand, and then silence.

'No,' he breathes. 'What happened? When?'

The masked man doesn't look at him. Instead, as he pulls on a sweatshirt, he picks up a trench coat and begins to walk away.

'Metropolis?'

'Don't tell anyone about me yet.'

'I won't. You know that.' Ted stands a little taller and raises his fists to his chest. 'Just as you know if you need me then Wildcat's ready to return, too.'

'The world's changed,' he says, removing the mask. 'I just might have to take you up on that.'

Channel 52 News – Bethany Snow

'It has now been more than a year since everything changed. Despite the actions and initiatives of governments and aid groups there are still tens of thousands of people living in dire situations in refugee camps. Coupled with those affected by the recent and ongoing wars and natural disasters, it is estimated that the total refugee population, across the world, is now 20 million, with the number of people displaced now passing 30 million.

'Some are of the view that two of the key projects spearheaded by the newly-formed S.T.A.R. Labs and aided by Superman, are, and I quote: "to blame for the continuing high number of refugees. The sanitation and water projects have resulted in a massive problem by a creating a situation in which the usual outbreaks of disease and death are not happening. There has also been an increase in the number of successful childbirths, which further compounds the pressure on already limited resources."

'Superman's intervention in the supply chain for aid packages is also having an impact, and people like G Gordon Godfrey are not happy with it.

'"Aid relief has always been staggered. It has to be in order to work properly. Negotiations have to be made and deals brokered before aid convoys can gain safe access, but this alien just turns up at an aid depot, picks up a load of pallets, and then flies off to a deliver them. People think he's doing a good thing, but there's no process, no checks, and no control over where and who is getting the aid, and that is a dangerous and absolutely untenable situation."'

Daily Planet building, in the office of Perry White

'You know I'm right on this,' says Lois as Perry looks over her notes, laying them out on his desk.

'One thing we've learned over the past year is that we don't know anything, Lois. This,' he points at some drawings of a bullet and a report next to them. 'What's the angle you're going for?'

'The separatists have new weapons.'

'Alien?'

'No, not alien. Not this time. But the casings are different. That's why my source came to me. Techies are calling it some kind of super-bullet – it hits harder the further it travels, and it hits like a mini grenade at short range.'

'Like an RPG?'

'Worse.'

'Speculation?'

'Tested. It matches something that was apparently withdrawn years ago.'

'And you're absolutely certain?'

'I've seen the footage.'

'Footage can be doctored, Lois.'

'That's why I'm here.'

'What's the ask?'

'DC, to follow up on some leads.'

Perry looks at the notes for a few more seconds before gathering them up and handing them to Lois. 'Three days. If there's something worth running with then fine, otherwise I need you back on the Cadmus review.'

She smiles as she takes the bundle of papers from him. 'You know I'll do both,' she says.

'You better.'

ML News 1

'In the last few months, Metropolis' skyline has changed dramatically. While the area that received the most bombardment from the Black Zero remains relatively untouched, the surrounding zones have gone through wide-scale construction and restoration. When asked about 'ground zero' and its current state, Mayor Berkowitz said:

'"…as civil engineers continue their investigations into finding ways of reconnecting not just utilities and sewage but the mass transit links, too, the safety of Metropolis' citizens remains paramount. I think everyone will agree that work should only be started once we know exactly what those energy blasts did down there."

'The overall speedy revival of the city has been widely lauded, however, elsewhere on the East Coast:

'"Metropolis is a major financial centre, fine, but we lost our homes years ago and are still waiting to be able to go back. All this shows is that we're not worth anything in the eyes of the government."

'"Big Business was encouraged to rebuild and invest – we've been left with handouts and our own graft."

'"You know someone who has made a difference? Superman. There's a reason why some people worship him, and more are starting to."

'"Yeah, he isn't just Metropolis. He's all over the world and that's what's got the higher-ups scared."

'With me now in the studio is G Gordon Godfrey. What are your comments in light of-'

'"Throughout history Messiah figures have been a source of trouble, and that's exactly what Superman is: trouble. The Lowlies…I'm sorry, the common-folk accept him because they interpret his actions as ones of "helping" them. He's not helping. He's not even a plaster on a graze – no, he's an infection. He shows up in a wounded area and does something that looks like it's helping when, really, all it's doing is making things worse.

'"You have people sitting on rooftops waiting for Superman to save them instead of climbing into a rescue boat. You have navigators ignoring their duty of care because they think he'll come and stop the ship from sinking. His presence is actually making people mad, just like an infection can cause delirium.'"

World mourns passing of philanthropist

To many, Gerard Shugel was a man in his fifties who strove to use his fortune to make the world a better place. Gerard Shugel was over 90-years old, and a genius.

For most of his life he was unknown and unheard of by the public, but those involved with space exploration considered him to be one of the key minds behind heat shielding , re-usable spacecraft, and rocket propulsion – although he always attributed the latter to the late Delores Winters.

Over more than five decades, Mr Shugel funded, established, and maintained science and engineering schools across the world with the aim, he said, of "giving the right tools to the right people. Intuition is part of our genetic make-up, and society stumbles when those who are gifted are not allowed to achieve". It is through the concepts and methods developed by his students in Africa that parts of the Sahara has become arable land.

Mr Shugel's outspoken stance against the Vietnam War resulted in him and his various companies being ostracised by the US Government, and his relocation to an area of the then Soviet Union. Sanctions were imposed and even extradition orders were made, yet the only statement made by Mr Shugel about all this, in public record, was that "the Soviet Union will be disassembled and things will change. Moldova will become its own nation and what will remain, when all is done, will be opportunities to rise."

When the Soviet Union was officially dissolved in 1991, and Mr Shugel's 'outlandish predictions' came true, the sanctions were lifted and he was welcomed back to the US with open arms. Although it has never been confirmed, political historians and analysts, to date, believe Mr Shugel was a key mover in lifting the Iron Curtain and ending the Cold War.

With sanctions lifted and an access to funds, Mr Shugel stunned the science and aerospace worlds with the discoveries and designs he had made over more than thirty years, and the birth of the International Space Station project.

At the dawn of the new millennium, Mr Shugel announced his most ambitious undertaking to date: Broadcast.

"For a long time we have known we cannot rely on just one type of energy, and huge efforts have been made to diversify. On the ground there are dozens of solar, hydro, geo-thermal, and wind projects, but each one has its limitations.

When announcing the venture Mr Shugel said: "There is no doubt that Nikola Tesla was and is a man of inspiration and a man born before his time. If anyone deserves the title "The Man of Tomorrow" it is him. It's his vision, his hope, that led to what I hope to gift the world in his honour – accessible energy without the need for pollution-creating power stations or landscape ruining power lines."

The project, however, was not to be. The lack of support from key international governments, as well as the widespread propaganda against it, resulted in the satellites that had been developed remaining grounded.

After the events of the Metropolis Incident, Mr Shugel was considered a de facto world leader as he helped pull together not just the corporate leaders of Metropolis but governments across the globe in order to set everyone on a path away from chaos. Some speculated that this kind of good standing would lead to Broadcast becoming active, however Mr Shugel, tragically, passed away.

He leaves behind, so far as is currently known, no heirs.

Online video

Shaky camera footage of a group of teenagers speaking about a tenement fire. Behind them is a smouldering building, and Superman is walking with several firemen into the building while police cordon the area.

'The fire spread really quick,' says one of the teenagers. 'Our parents complained to management about the cladding before but no one gave a damn.'

'They're going to blame us,' says another. 'They always do. They'll say something lame nonsense about it being a firework or a barbecue.'

'I heard Superman tell them we were right, though,' says a third, excitedly. 'Maybe they'll listen to him.'

'Maybe with him on our side things can be fixed.'

Six months ago

BATMAN RETURNS?

The headline on the Gotham Gazette is accompanied by a large picture of a silhouette of a 'bat' between two buildings. Steve Lombard tosses the newspaper onto Clark's keyboard as he approaches Clark's work station and leans against his desk.

'Looks like you don't get to miss out after all, Clarkie,' says Lombard.

'This is an old newspaper,' says Clark, pointing at the date on the page from almost a year earlier.

'Doesn't matter. That bat-storm-flock-thing that happened-'

'Colony.'

'Yeah, that. After that, other reports have been coming in. The gauntlet is back and it's all yours.'

'But no one's actually seen him.'

'That's the point, Kent. No one "actually" saw him before until he got caught on camera that one time and disappeared, and that makes this story bigger: "Is he the real thing? If he is, where has he been? If he isn't, where did this guy come from?" You're still a stringer. You need to prove yourself before you get the juicier assignments, you know that, right? I'm looking out for you here, Clarkie.'

Clark picks up the newspaper and looks at it and then at Lombard. 'Isn't this more suited for the National Whisper?' he says, flicking it aside.

'Clarkie, Clarkie, Clarkie. This is a rite of passage. For over a decade – heck for two decades! – this was the story people wanted to break. This is the 'one that got away'.'

'How did you do?'

'Me? I never cared. Backhanders in the NBA? No problem. A group of guys with leather-fetishes? Not my kind of thing. I'm sticking to the sports' beat.'

'"Group of guys"?'

'No way was that just one man. It had to have been some elite squad on some millionaire's pay-roll, but no one could follow the money.'

Clark looks at the newspaper and smiles a little.

'The other question, though, if he is back, is what happened to the kids?' says Lombard as he walks away backwards, arms wide. Clark's smile fades.

Gotham City, 16 years ago

Searchlights from half a dozen helicopters scour the rooftops and, scattered across the cityscape, plumes of smoke rise into the sky. Sirens screech and horns bellow and dull explosions puncture the air.

An ambulance is being escorted through the streets when a manhole explodes and shunts it into the path of a tour bus. The air seems to thicken and the people on the street, hurrying to safety, watch, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the ambulance turns in the air and then, somehow, rights itself and, tyres squealing, continues on its way.

Above the city, as councilmen, union leaders, lawyers, fund managers and so on are being taken into protective custody, Batman, Robin, and a half dozen other vigilantes tackle the rooftops as they try to counter a 'ninja invasion'. A splinter group from the League of Assassins, led by Ebeneezer Darcel, has declared war on the main body of the League and has set its sights on taking over Gotham and turning the city into its known base of operations, after getting rid of those of 'misguiding influence' and culling its population.

In the shadows a young man in jeans and a t-shirt watches the dynamic duo as they leap and tumble and fight groups of armed gang members and 'thugs for hire' that have been recruited by Darcel to bolster his numbers. Small bursts of heat are emitted by his eyes as he seals rooftop doors and blocks off He imitates some of their moves, occasionally landing a little too hard and cracking roofs and tiles. All the while, he's smiling, awed at the duo's skill and finesse and how aware they are of what is going on around them.

Crouching on a gargoyle, the young man tilts his head a little as he filters through the sounds around him and focuses on the conversation being held by Batman and Robin as they tie up their now-unconscious opponents:

'We have to split up,' says Batman. 'Canary and the others won't make it there in time.'

'So I'll go save the kids.'

The Batman doesn't say anything, yet, somehow, both of them know and understand and head off in different directions.

The young man stands, the wind tugging at his t-shirt, and concentrates on Robin. He looks beyond him and his eyes squint a little and then widen as he uses his enhanced vision. He sees through buildings, one by one, and then frowns as he finds the one he was looking for. A dozen children have been herded into a classroom. His mouth twists into a grimace and he dashes out of sight.

Batman walks towards a roof-top access door, his head turning from side to side as he looks over dozens of unconscious men lying on the rooftop. He crouches in front the door and prods at the soft metal of the melted lock. Squeezing his left glove the lenses in his cowl switch to infra-red and, beyond the door, he sees the heat signature of more people, all of whom are unconscious.

There's a whistling sound and Batman turns sharply, three Bat-shuriken in his right hand, between his fingers, and an elongated Batarang in his left. The young man lands heavily, cracking the roof and, as he slowly rises, his head and body covered by the shadow of the old chimney, Batman hurls the shuriken.

'Mr Wayne,' he says, tossing the shuriken aside. 'I'm here to help. I told you before: I'm more than you know, sir. I just want to make a difference.' He gestures at the city and continues: 'I've done what I can tonight. I think I've made things easier for you and the police, but I know there's more I can do. With your help.'

'Who are you?' says Batman, stepping forward with his hands slightly wide and away from his body.

'I can't tell you that yet. I just…I need you to trust me, as I'm trying to trust you.'

'Who trained you? You're too young to have been trained by Master Kirigi.'

'Please. Don't come any closer.'

'Then come out of the shadows.'

'I can't do that yet. You're too good at what you do and I'm not ready for you to know-'

'Then why come to me in the first place?'

'To see if you were like me. To see if, maybe… but… you're just a-'

'Maybe what?'

'It doesn't matter. What does is whether you'll help me.'

'Help you to do what?'

'Be like you.'

'You don't want this. You're good – better than I realised, perhaps – but this will overwhelm you.'

'I'm made of some pretty strong stuff.'

Batman kicks at the ground and holds up a melted sword. 'And this?'

'I have…'

'What?' he gestures with the sword at a pile of molten guns.

'Some gifts.'

'You've developed a weapon?'

'No, they're part of me.'

Batman's head tilts to the side a little as he looks into the shadows surrounding the young man, his night-vision showing a bright green blur and the infra-red showing and immense concentration of heat, and then, after a few seconds, he asks: 'Did Shugel finally make his super-soldiers?'

'What? Who?' His voice sounds his confusion and he coughs and says, 'No, I'm just-' in the distance he hears the sound of running and the flap of fabric and steps back a little more into the shadows. 'I made a mistake coming here again. I'm sorry. My father said the world wasn't ready for someone like me – maybe he was right after all.'

With those words, and before Batman can move, the young man turns away and dashes to the edge of the roof and jumps.

'No!' roars Batman, and he runs, drawing out his grapple-gun, and then, eyes to the sky, he slows down and watches as Clark's lands two buildings across from him, and disappears from sight.

'Looks like you didn't need me here,' says Robin, as he lands beside Batman. 'Sorry I took so long. Something strange is going on. Someone got there before I did and-' he sees the melted sword in Batman's other hand and asks, as he turns to look at the rest of the rooftop, 'what happened here?'

'Something…if true, then something terrifying, and something we're not ready for. Once this is over, we're going to Cadmus.'

Five months ago

World Engine Island is, in parts, a bustle of activity. For months, after the first batch of alien weaponry had been seized in mainland Europe, a UN embargo had been set up in the waters surrounding it, with warships from a dozen countries patrolling the area. The embargo also forbade Superman from being on the island, imposed after he had removed some parts of the World Engine a few weeks after the failed invasion.

Just beyond the edge of the patrol zone, high in the sky, hovers Superman.

'Kelex, what are the readings like now?'

'Scans indicate a two thousand percent increase in a number of xeno-materials, Kal-El. Current indications are that the effects of the World Engine will not settle for another eleven Earth months.'

'And the effect on my abilities?'

'Will be noticeable from a half mile from the edge of the island.'

'And it's not atmospheric.'

'Confirmed. Current supposition is the xeno-materials, but without samples there can be no accurate understanding.'

'What about the sea life?'

'None have yet returned and the flora has increased. There do not appear to be any new variations.'

'As yet.'

It's a simple truth: people are vulnerable and predators will hunt them. The massive influx of refugees from Metropolis and the East Coast overwhelmed Gotham's emergency services, leading to 'gaps' that were then taken advantage of by various trafficking networks. It's big business, and with so many from Metropolis with 'lost' identities, the demand for First World subjects is at an all-time high.

The Bat-plane turns into the old docklands, lights dimmed, and hovers.

'Take over, Alfred. Distract them a little.'

'Master Wayne. Remote pilot is now active. Thermal imaging is showing me two dozen hostiles on the third floor, with another dozen on the first. The…goods are in the rear basements, so why don't I drop you off on the second?'

The Batman steps on to the nose of the Bat-plane, just as the aircraft's lights flood the area, and leaps into the warehouse, smashing through the windows.

Over the years the Batman has found many ways to make aspects of his mission more efficient. Strategically placed magnets, for example, not only interfere with communications between his prey but also, when triggered, help with disarming and even striking them. It's an experience a number of Blackgate inmates share: their gun suddenly being pulled from their hand and smashed into their face. Others, however, have had a somewhat different experience, one of their gun being pulled downwards and their trigger-happy fingers almost taking a foot off. The more direct encounters are often short-lived and long-regretted – those who were knocked out by their own gun consider themselves lucky.

Paramedics and volunteers are gathered at the front of the warehouse, held back by a police cordon. The doors are wide open and groups of officers are positioned around the building. After a few moments a couple of officers step out and wave at their colleagues.

'The kids are safe. Got a note saying to check the back of the second building down.'

Two warehouses away, as the gang lies unconscious, tied together in various groups, an armoured car approaches, its engine rumbling and the front grating stylised like a bat in flight. The doors to the car open and several men step out. A couple of them are wearing trench coats while others have capes on. All of them are wearing masks with horn-like 'ears'. There's a soft hum in the air as they approach the groups, and then sizzling and screams.

The headline to the early morning edition of the Gotham Globe says:

BAT-BRAND OF JUSTICE