The Powers that Be

Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.

AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me.


Chapter 9: Beginning Anew

Batman reached for his utility belt. He tossed down a quick smoke bomb and retrieving his grapple, he shot the metal claw at the stone edge atop a nearby building and let the device pull him out of the alley. His momentum carried him up, over the ledge and onto the roof. He retracted the claw and made sure the police found the would-be arsonist he had left for them before he backed unseen into the shadows. Another crime successfully foiled.

He didn't need any of his new powers for this one – or any of the other 7 he had handled this night. He maintained a slightly greater sense of accomplishment in that. But the debate had welled within him more and more often. He could have jumped up to the top of the building. That would effectively do the same thing as disguising his grapple usage with his smoke bombs. As far as these punks knew, he really was flying unaided away from the scene of their arrest. Why not actually do it? Batman had been using tricks and gadgets to keep people guessing about his true capabilities… why not use these powers to perpetuate that?

Because then I'd become a servant to these powers rather than a master of them, that's why.

He had no choice but to enjoy the endurance, though. He had no control over that benefit. He was still in control of everything else, however. He wouldn't use his super strength or speed unless he needed to. He didn't like using his incredible hearing, although it had come in handy once in a while. He refused to use his recently discovered and mastered ability to turn invisible. He had control over those things, he chose when to use them – and he chose never… well, hardly ever. But the endurance… if he had no choice, then he might as well enjoy it.

Running across the rooftops at his normal (non-super) sprint speed to move from one end of the city to the other, he was able to protect his grapple from wear and tear. Taking on as many thugs as he wanted was also a nice benefit, since he didn't get tired in a fight any more. Not having to take a break between engagements had made the patrol very busy indeed. He hated to, but he had to admit that one physical enhancement – endurance – had made him much more effective on patrol.

Had it made him more effective prior to patrol?

He wondered. And he smiled about the memory.

He took a second as he stood quietly in the shadows to recall Diana's voice ringing in his ears. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, her mouth against his. He could smell her on himself still and recall the soft skin of her body under his touch. Mostly, he recalled the feeling of allowing her to take command of him. She set the pace, she controlled the action. If she was going to take that step into that world, then he allowed her to do it on her terms. After all, she is an Amazon.

He harkened back to the look of hunger in her eyes and the desire on her face. He felt himself warm up as he remembered how she grabbed and pulled at his body, wanting desperately to feel it against her own. And although it killed him at the time to do so, he now felt a streak of righteousness remembering how he had stopped her before they went too far.

She didn't listen at first. Her lust for him to be inside her was too great. She had ripped the pants off his legs as her teeth dug into his chest.

"Not yet," he had said.

He almost thought he had made a mistake when she didn't stop her aggression. But when he gently took her hands in his own and brought them away from her goal and up to his mouth to kiss, she looked into his eyes and grudgingly concurred. It only took a moment, and she regained a hint of her composure. Understanding, she stopped her frenzied attack and caught her breath. If they were to take that path, he wouldn't let it be taken on the cold floor of the Batcave. She deserves better than that.

"No further," she panted, nodding. "… not yet."

"No further," he agreed, "but we don't have to stop either…"

With that, the remaining tatters of their clothes stayed on, but their engagement continued for the remainder of the evening. Their hands roamed and their mouths and tongues explored right up until Batman had to go on patrol. As he stood by the batmobile, she blew him a kiss just before she teleported away in a blaze of blue light.

Yes, he had to admit that his endurance was helping tonight. He also had to happily admit that the thought of Diana had not left the back of his mind and it had not hindered his patrol in the slightest. If anything, it kept his mind even. Usually, after a half dozen encounters, he would get tired, irritable. His judgment in justice would be in danger of compromise when his mood slipped.

Not tonight.

Tonight, no matter how low the creeps were, he found justice surprisingly fair. His heavy hand showed his victims the wrong of their doings, yet kept the door for redemption open. He could see in their eyes that they would not forget the lessons he taught, and for the couple that showed a reluctance to learn, he made sure they would receive justice through the law accordingly. All in all, this had been one of the most successful patrols he had been on in a long, long time. And it was only half over.


"SURPRISE!"

Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter stopped mid-stride. He was hoping for a smooth, uneventful return to his duties at the Daily Planet. Instead, he walked completely unprepared into a Welcome Back party in his honor. Taking a second to look around at all the smiling faces of his coworkers and friends, his embarrassment was rivaled only by the swell of warmth brought on by the realization that people around him actually cared about him – even without his cape.

He made his way through the hand shaking and back patting and the occasional hug towards his desk. He found it piled high with small gifts and cards and his chair was unashamedly wrapped with paper streamers and balloons taped or tied to every conceivable object.

"Kent!" Perry White's voice still commanded respect as it penetrated the noise and commotion.

"Sir?" Clark responded, standing upright and looking over the heads of his coworkers at his boss.

"Welcome Back!" White said, giving a curt nod, then turning to the crowd; "Back to work! We've got a deadline to meet!"

With that, the boss disappeared into his office and the crowd filtered back into their respective roles. It was a short-lived, yet fun way to start a Monday for them and a surprisingly welcome way for Clark to return to work.

The last people to leave his desk were Lois and Jimmy. Clark didn't notice Jimmy.

"Welcome back, Smallville," Lois said warmly, giving him an affectionate hug. Breaking their embrace, his hands slid down her arms as she backed away, finally taking her hands in his. She gave them a gentle squeeze as their eyes met for a brief, intimate moment. Then, turning, she shyly waved and walked back to her desk, swinging both arms together and humming a light tune.

Like Clark, Jimmy watched as she departed. He sensed that he might have just witnessed something unusual, but he wasn't sure. He patted Clark on the arm to get his attention.

"Hey, CK," he said in his typical up-beat way, "How ya feelin'?"

"Hey, Jimmy," Clark replied unwrapping the streamers from his chair. "I'm doing well. How 'bout you?"

"Well, y'know…" said the young photographer, "…it's another Monday."

The two continued basic small talk as Clark organized and cleared off his desk so he could start something resembling work. He already had a few stories in mind, but would have to wait for the 8:30 meeting with Perry and the other reporters to find out his assignments for the week.

Having neatly stacked his small pile of presents and cards to the side for later and giving Jimmy a balloon as he left, Clark sat down and looked around, enjoying the sights and sounds and smells of the Daily Planet again. The phones rang and computer keyboards were being pummeled mercilessly in every direction. It was good to be back.


Clark Kent sat at the mahogany table watching Perry White roll up his sleeves. He scribbled notes in his notebook as his boss talked about assignments and follow up stories. It was a Monday after a slow news weekend. There weren't many juicy stories to break and Lois wasn't hiding her boredom. Clark, on the other hand was a little grateful for some mundane assignments. It would give him time to re-acclimate to reporter life.

Another thing Clark was thankful for was the fact that he was assigned to follow up on a story about a robbery that Superman foiled yesterday. It would be a simple story, just right to get him back on track. And it would mean contacting the League and perhaps setting up an interview. Clark smiled to himself as the meeting was dismissed and he tucked his notebook into his shirt pocket.

Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed the Justice League hotline – a phone number that every major news outlet and police department had on record. The call would be handled by a computerized answering system, which would screen and analyze the message, investigate the caller ID and pass on the messages to the Watchtower.

"Hello, Justice League..." Clark started, "My name is Clark Kent and I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. I would like to interview Superman about the robbery he stopped yesterday…"

Hanging up, he considered how odd it felt to leave a message for Superman. He had done it before. Of course, he was doing it just for show then. Now he was actually leaving a message to learn more about a Justice League incident of which he knew nothing about – other than the original news coverage.

Part of him wanted to laugh about the absurdity of it. Part of him felt cold. He was certain that whoever was on monitor duty would return his call soon. He was sure that his request for an interview would be honored. He was even willing to bet that he would be invited up to the Watchtower. While there, he would have time to socialize and see his friends again. He knew without a doubt that he would be welcome. What he didn't know was how much he would be privy to, how open would the welcome be?

He had gone over the scenario in his head countless times since he left the Watchtower infirmary. When he was debriefed and didn't get a com link, they said it was because he needed time to rest. He had accepted that without giving it the consideration he probably should have. After time, when he found himself missing his life in the League, he considered what he would do if it had been Flash or Green Lantern that were suddenly powerless. Without powers, without being capable of doing the things they do, would they still be in the League? Probably not. Their character would still be the same – they would be heroes in his eyes - forever, really. They just wouldn't be Super Heroes any more.

And loosing that status how would their relationship with the League change? There would have to be ties severed – for security's sake as well as their own.

If he were still Superman and involved with League business, how often would he have time to just 'stop by' and chat with Wally West or John Stewart? A couple times, perhaps. But as time passed, the frequency of the visits would decrease. Eventually, it was sad to admit, a de-powered Wally or a de-lanterned John would become fondly remembered ex-colleagues. Just like Clark is slowly becoming.

While he was on the farm with his mother, Clark held on to the belief that some time soon, Batman or the Martian Manhunter would contact him, letting him know that they finally found a way to restore his powers and that would be that. It was the belief that his current situation was temporary that made the transition from one of the World's Finest to civilian easier to swallow. As the days turned to weeks and that contact was never made, the hope within him had dwindled. Eventually he grew unsure if he'd ever get the call.

There were times when his patience and frustration were tearing him up inside. He wanted to grab the phone and see what the hold up was. He wondered if Batman was holding out on purpose. He started fostering paranoid delusions about how the other 6 members of the League could somehow be relieved to finally get rid of the 'Big Blue Boy Scout'. Maybe they were just nice to his face because of his powers… were they afraid of him then? If not, why hasn't anybody called – if only to just say "hello"?

It was at his lowest times when Lois would magically appear, as if sent in to save him. She reminded him of the other half of life that he still had to embrace. Where as Superman completed him, now there was a hole. Lois showed him that that hole could be filled without donning blue tights. It was her friendship, and then her affection that helped him not miss what he had lost. It was the prospect that he may be able to share his life with her that gave him optimism about moving on. There was no denying that he would never forget his powers or abilities or friends or that life. Lois made it easier to accept.

Clark hung up the phone and wondered how long it would take to hear from the League.


Bruce Wayne shook hands and exchanged smiles as the other members of the Board of Directors of Wayne Enterprises left the meeting room. The 'suits' filed past and shared comments about golfing and dinners and summer homes and yachts. All in all, it had been the latest in a string of successful meetings. Uncharacteristically, Bruce Wayne had been present at all of them. Not only that, but he had been active at these meetings and even provided sound input, to the surprise of many.

For the past couple weeks, Bruce's activities hadn't gone unnoticed. He had been arriving at the office at reasonable hours, not some time after noon as per his usual schedule. He had been accepting his appointments without delaying or canceling half of them. He had been personally returning correspondence and meeting with stockholders and department heads on a more regular basis. Basically, he had been performing as a President and CEO should, rather than a spoiled playboy that got the position simply because his daddy started the company.

On top of all that, Bruce's influence had triggered positive results. There were more than a few people that wondered how this man (whom they considered quite clueless at times) managed to keep Wayne Enterprises not only afloat, but thriving. Bruce had effectively been able to silence their doubts lately. His innovative decisions had caused an upswing in corporate stock value during a time of year when normally the stocks were flat or worse. Many doubters had converted to believers, as long as the profits rose. Then again, there were others betting on when this fad would end and whose head would role when it did – certainly not his.

Bruce flashed his signature heart-melting smile at his secretary as he sat on the corner of her desk. The stunning young woman swooned and if she noticed how much he appreciated her ample cleavage, she didn't seem to mind in the least.

"Sandy," he said thoughtfully, locking eyes with her, "I'm in a good mood."

The young lady squirmed in her seat as the attention she was receiving made her heat up inside unprofessionally.

"And looking as good as you do today," he continued, "I'd like to do two things; One, give you a raise..."

Sandy's eyes sparkled as her jaw dropped.

"… and Two, give you the rest of the day off!"

"Mr. Wayne… I…"

"OK, rest of the week, then – but be back Monday!"

Walking around the desk and putting his hand politely on her shoulder, he continued.

"Seriously, Sandy," he said more sincerely, "I've heard that you're earning exemplary grades at your night school courses. I think that's very admirable. And while I hate to think of loosing my secretary after you finish your MBA, I want to make sure you achieve all that you're capable of achieving. You're a hard worker, you're good with people and most importantly, you keep me out of trouble. You deserve it."

Patting her gently on the back, he gave her a quick wink and retreated to his office.

"See you next week!" he called as the doors closed behind him.

He heard the beautiful woman loose a whoop of joy then scurry towards the elevator. Making her day – making her month, probably, put a smile on his face. He stepped to the enormous plate glass walls that lined his office and looked out over the city – his city. From this height, it looked clean and peaceful to most people. If he tried, he could see it that way too. But he had spent too many hours on the rooftops of this city, watching the lowest of the low apply their trade. He didn't let the illusion of the shining glass skyscrapers influence what he knew to be reality among the dank alleys. How many times had he wondered if Batman even made a dent?

Last night's patrol was invigorating. After apprehending the arsonist, he heard something that he never had the opportunity to before, although he had heard rumor of it many times. He had spotted a well-known petty thief consorting with a few other shady characters. In a rare, but rationalized moment, he called upon his super hearing to listen to their conversation – to hear of their plots, if any.

The one talking was trying to convince the others of the perfection of his plan to knock over a near-by convenience store. After all was said and done the rest of them shot down his scheme and cited Batman, not the police as the reason. There was a sense of satisfaction in that – to know that his efforts were making a difference, to know that potential crimes were being prevented rather than just interrupted or cleaned up after. The fact that the image of Batman was doing this helped him believe in his mission.

But the purist in him was still not satisfied. He wanted would-be criminals to stop their ways because it was wrong, not because they would get caught. And if there was fear, they should be afraid of the police and the long arm of the law, not just Batman. Until the GCPD was cleaned up more thoroughly, however, that was still a pipe dream.

Regardless, he took satisfaction and… pleasure, was it?… in that one little episode. He wouldn't even try if he didn't believe he could make a difference. He would have written the city off as a loss if he thought it was beyond saving. After all, that was the whole theme of his mission. At times, he had let that vision slip from his grasp. At times, he had thought that it may be hopeless after all. All men loose faith. At times, every human forgets what is worth fighting for.

Only now, he isn't exactly human any more.

Was it in his head, or were his patrols more effective since the ACCORD incident? Was he working harder, and longer hours, engaging more of the scum in the alleys and back rooms? Was it his imagination, or were big crimes becoming less frequent these past few patrols – despite the fact that, historically for this time of year, crime should be on the rise? Were his powers the key to Batman's greater success lately?

And he hadn't even called on them appreciably.

What if he did? What if he used his incredible hearing to detect and foil more crime? What if he could hear a mugging 3 miles away and stop it within seconds? What if Joker escaped again? Would he tap into that reservoir to stop him, or Scarecrow, or Bane? Would that be against what he stood for if it helped make his city safer?

He heard Diana's voice in his head. Your mission is what is important. The tools you use are your choice. You have powers now and they are simply tools for you to use or not. That is your choice.

So many things were easy for Bruce Wayne, for Batman… so many things that befuddled others in the League or the GCPD or the corporate world. To him, decisions were clear-cut more often than not. The good must outweigh the bad at the end of the day. That was the bottom line. What about now?

Principles? Batman has them - in many cases, stronger than anybody else. Guns were against his principles. Powers – are they like guns? Quick, easy… unfair? At the end of the day, the good would still outweigh the bad, wouldn't it?

Until he knew the answer without a doubt, he would not use his powers readily. Until he knew that he controlled them and was not a slave to them, he would not call upon them. But it was just so damn easy to do. It was so easy to swing a little faster to take out a dangerous adversary. It was so easy to listen in on the conspiracies and foil them. It was so easy to hold his ground like a living statue and let the punches and kicks and bullets bounce off. What's more - it seemed to be working better. It was so damn easy, it almost felt like cheating.

Almost like using a gun.


"What are you doing here?"

Nightwing nimbly vaulted over the ledge onto the roof. He had ditched his motorcycle a half mile away before changing into his nocturnal crime-fighting outfit. He didn't think he would surprise the old man, but it wasn't fun to hear a greeting like that either.

"Nice to see you too."

Batman hadn't taken his eyes off the warehouse across the street. Nightwing crouched beside him and joined in the watch.

"Drugs" the older hero stated simply.

"Anybody important?"

"No."

"What are they…"

"SHH!"

Batman cocked his head slightly as if listening. Nightwing reached to adjust the frequency on his earpiece.

"You won't find it."

"Find what?" they young man challenged.

"The bug frequency."

"New encryptions?"

"No," Batman said looking at him sideways. "There is no bug."

Nightwing thought about that for a moment. No bug… Is he listening to them… from HERE?

He kept quiet while his adopted father mentally noted key facts. After a short time, Batman stood up and briefed him in full.

"Two armed suspects on the ground floor office in the southwest corner. They're counting money and dividing it up into armored briefcases. Eight armed suspects guarding 15 workers in the warehouse. They're handling the shipments and dividing the merchandise for delivery."

Dick looked at the office on the southwest corner. There was a light on behind the blinds. From his vantage point, five stories up, he could see across the roof of the warehouse and most of the surrounding grounds. There were some trucks backed up to the loading docks. No fences.

Batman pointed out the poorly-hidden surveillance cameras and the typical paths the sentries took.

"Wait for the police," the Dark Knight continued, not looking at his son. "They'll be here in two minutes, no sirens, no lights. When you see them coming, take out the two in the office and meet me back here."

"You want me to help you?" Nightwing asked incredulously.

"Unless you've got something better to do…"

With that, the Dark Knight disappeared over the side of the roof. Nightwing watched as his cape expanded and he glided to a gentle landing below. Making his own way down, Nightwing kept an eye out for the security cameras and crept to the open window on the south wall of the office Batman had identified. There he listened to the two criminals inside; one male, one female. If he played this one well, he could get to the warehouse in time to show Batman that he had learned a thing or two. Besides, it would be good to see the old man in action again.

"Wait for the police," Batman's whispered voice reminded him through his earpiece.

"What about the ones in the warehouse?"

"I'll take care of them."

"Twenty-three of them?"

There was no response.

The old man must have something up his sleeve… unless… powers? No! He wouldn't… would he?

Curiosity...

Nightwing checked the background light and shadows. He could risk a glance through the window to get a little knowledge of the room's layout before engaging the two suspects. He leaned in on the sly and got a good look of the room; two exterior walls with one window each, the far wall had one door – presumably to the hallway and the other wall had folding doors – presumably to a closet. There was a desk under the window against the west wall that held money counting equipment and a machine gun leaning against it. The two occupants had their backs towards him – what luck! - and were both sporting shoulder harnesses.

This should be short and sweet.

After a brief wait, Nightwing saw the first of the police cars turn the corner at the end of the block. Like Batman said, the strobes were off and the car was proceeding slowly, silently.

He ripped the screen open and vaulted through in one smooth, fluid motion. A quick kick to the back sent the man against the far wall, head first. The female threw herself backwards against the closet doors and drew her pistol. A duck, a leg sweep and a back fist to the head later and she was out for the count.

Turning back towards her accomplice, Nightwing found that he had recovered quickly from his original attack – quicker than expected. He had enough time to lunge for and acquire the machine gun by the desk. He cocked it and brought it to his shoulder.

By that time, Nightwing was in mid air with a spinning kick. Before the man could pull the trigger, the weapon went sailing across the room. Continuing his spin with a back kick, he sent the man crashing through the window to land out cold at the feet of a rookie cop.

Satisfied with his efforts, it was time to head down the hall to the warehouse. When he arrived, he found all 23 suspects bound and in various states of consciousness and disarray. He immediately ducked into the darkest corner he could find as the police filed past, weapons drawn. When the time was right, he spied his way back outside and across the street undetected.

By the time he made his way up the five stories to the roof, Batman had already been considering his next engagement for the night.

"What kept you?"

"I went to the warehouse to give you a hand."

"I didn't need one."

"Really?"

The two men worked the rest of the night side-by-side. Dick couldn't help but feel like it was old times. He watched the old man doing things that he'd never seen before. He felt over-awed like a teenager watching his hero. He had to remind himself that Batman shouldn't be able to do the things he was; he shouldn't be able to jump that high or fight that long or strike that hard, but he did it so well, so flawlessly… it was as if he had been doing it his whole life.

Nightwing wasn't sure why Batman invited him to join him for the rest of his patrol. It was all business – they only talked about the engagements they were about to undertake. Nothing warm or heartfelt was shared, but the simple fact that Bruce let Dick tag along was significant in itself. It was a door opened.

Of course, the reason Dick ventured into Gotham in the first place was to see some things for himself - to get some answers. He hadn't been able to 'corner' Bruce about anything over the past few weeks. There were still too many things left up in the air and the young police officer wasn't comfortable leaving them up there. As he mounted his motorcycle at the end of patrol, he had few answers to his list of questions, but he felt satisfied none-the-less. The fact that Batman allowed him to even be in Gotham was significant. The two fighting side-by-side was more than just bonding for old times' sake. Dick now understood that Bruce was in control of his life again, was comfortable with all that had happened. And Batman showed him this by simply allowing Nightwing to hang out with him.

With the nights' events over, the two men retired to the Batcave. They finished their time with some polite small talk and Dick eventually crawled into his old bed, exhausted. He was fast asleep when Bruce looked in on him and fondly smiled.


AN: So, you may be asking... "Where is this story going?" Well, if this story was a roller coaster, we're almost to the top of the big hill...

AN: As always, thanks to all who read and EXTRA THANKS to all who review!

to ljkingoh:
Bruce finally gives in... It was only a matter of time!
Lois didn't have to be bossy? Have you MET Lois? As strong of a person as she is, I see her bossiness as a defense mechanism in relationships...
Clark was whipped? Well, yeah! Of course, it's not so much as he is being pushed around as he is letting
Lois push him around, y'know?
Thanks for the review!

to a fan:
Thanks a whole bunch! I update as often as I can...

to moi:
Kind of you to say. Thanks for the review!