CHAPTER ELEVEN

"What were you thinking?!" Green Arrow pounded his fist on the table.

The rest of the Justice League sat around the main table in the grand hall of the New York Fortress, all staring at Superman.

"I wasn't about to let Lex murder 500,000 innocent civilians," Superman replied.

"I get that," Green Arrow said. "But the thing is, YOU were the one championing the cause to let Lex go ahead and take office. A bunch of us wanted to stop him, but we ended up listening to you. Now, the first decision he makes that you don't like, you fly in and give it you own personal 'super-veto'. And the rest of us are paying the price for that!"

A giant green hand, generated by Green Lantern's ring, shot out and separated Superman and Green Arrow.

"Enough," GL said.

"What's done is done," Thor said. "The question we must ask is where we go from here."

"Lex has declared Superman and the Justice League enemies of the United States of America," J'onn reiterated. "If we show our faces in public we are to be arrested and thrown in the N-Zone prison."

"Then we ditch the costumes. Drop off the radar," Black Canary suggested.

Flash nodded. "Right. Before he put on the cape, Superman was known as The Blur because he used to zip in, save the day, and zip out without being seen."

"That's great if you have super speed," Green Arrow said. "Not all of us can 'zip'."

"And some of us don't have the luxury of taking off a costume and blending in," Beast pointed out.

"I'm not sure it matters, anyway," Storm said. "Lex seems to be using this as free reign to arrest anyone with powers. Last night, Bobby Drake and Piotr Rasputin were taken into custody by the Iron Avengers. They are X-Men, not members of the Justice League."

"Perhaps that is our fault for not being more transparent in our membership," J'onn stated. "The general public most likely does not know exactly who is in the Justice League."

"We haven't kept ourselves a secret," Wonder Woman protested.

"No, but we haven't exactly been doing press tours, either," Green Lantern said. "No wonder the public doesn't trust us. They don't even know who we are."

"We're just a bunch of gods in tights and capes," Green Arrow said. "Who apparently answer to no one. Not even the president."

"Maybe someone could talk to Tony Stark?" Captain America suggested.

"I don't think that would do any good," Superman replied. He couldn't help but recall Lex's statement about Stark designing the bomb that was meant for Latveria.

Spider-Man hadn't said a word the whole meeting. That wasn't entirely unusual. At every Justice League meeting he tended to feel like a little kid spending his first Thanksgiving at the grown-ups table. He just couldn't get used to the fact that he was sitting between an Asgardian god and an Amazonian warrior princess. Who was he to chime in with his two cents when titans like these were having a heated discussion?

Add to that the fact that he'd only gotten a few hours sleep over these past few grueling days, and he was honestly just trying to stay awake at this point. When he did manage to sneak in a nap here and there, he was tormented by more dreams of Chloe. They'd gotten more frequent and more vivid lately. He knew why that was. The big day was almost here. The day when he and Clark would finally confront Bruce Wayne.

The meeting wrapped up with nothing really having been settled, other than most members of the League agreed they were going to ditch their costumes for awhile and try to help people as best they could in secret. They would reconvene at the fortress again in one week.

The members of the League dispersed and went their separate ways, exiting the fortress via an opening that led out onto Liberty Island. Superman stayed behind, staring out at the New York City skyline deep in thought.

"Hey," Spider-Man said, wearily approaching his old friend. "We should talk about our plans for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Superman replied.

"Yeah... you know," Spider-Man said. "Tomorrow is the day Bruce Wayne is coming into town. The day we confront him about Chloe."

"Oh." Superman had obviously forgotten. "No," he said, shaking his head. "We can't. I'm sorry Pete, there are just too many other things happening right now. Bruce Wayne has to go on the back burner."

"What...? You can't be serious," Spider-Man said in disbelief.

"This thing with Lex and his manhunt for the Justice League takes precedence right now," Superman said.

"But this could be our only chance to nab Wayne out in the open!"

"Peter, I'm sorry," Superman said. "There are just more important things happening."

"More important...? More important?!"

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the nightmares. Maybe it was Mary Jane leaving him and the fact that he had a half-empty apartment waiting for him to go home to. Whatever it was, Spider-Man had reached his tipping point. He barely knew what he was doing as the fingers of his right hand balled themselves into a fist. He was moving on pure, frustrated rage as he swung his fist and punched Superman square in the jaw.

It was like punching a brick wall.

"AAAAUUUGGHH!" Spider-Man fell to his knees clutching his wrist. He bit his lip and rocked back and forth in anguish.

"Oh, Pete!" Superman cried out. "What did you go and do that for?" He said it not in anger, but in genuine concern for his friend. He knelt down beside Spider-Man and tried to examine his hand.

Spider-Man turned away. "Get away from me!"

"Peter, I can tell you right now, you have a fractured wrist and two broken fingers," Superman said, looking at the injury with his x-ray vision. "You need to get to a hospital."

Spider-Man stood up, still clutching his wrist. "I don't have time," he shot back. "There are more important things going on right now." He sprinted for a small precipice overlooking New York Harbor and leapt out. With his one good hand he fired off a webline that latched onto the back of a helicopter as it passed overhead.

Superman stood and sadly watched his friend sail off over the horizon, hanging limply from the helicopter as it flew out of sight.

If he was supposed to be Superman, why did he feel like he just couldn't do anything right lately?

Spider-Man slowly opened and closed the fingers of his right hand as he held onto the webline with his left, letting the helicopter carry him toward the mainland of Manhattan. It hurt so bad, and he knew Superman had to be right about the fractured wrist and broken fingers. Stupid! Why had he punched the strongest, most invulnerable man in the world? Because he was Peter Parker and he was an idiot, he thought to himself.

He had to think. Bruce Wayne was still coming into town tomorrow, and he knew he was going to confront him even if Clark wasn't willing to help. He had to do it for Chloe. Despite what Clark said, nothing was more important than that.

He'd been counting on Clark to use his super hearing to tell if Wayne was lying. He wondered if he could get someone else to sub in. But who? J'onn had telepathy. Certainly he would be able to read Bruce Wayne's mind and know exactly what he was thinking. But no, Spider-Man was fairly certain that J'onn hated him. Why would he ever agree to help?

If only he knew someone else with super hearing.

Then it hit him. And for the first time in several days, he smiled.

That night. Clinton, better known as Hell's Kitchen. A lone figure prowled the rooftops and alleyways at night, searching for justice. Blind justice. A guardian devil.

Daredevil crept among the shadows, blending in with the gargoyles overlooking the city streets. Though he couldn't see, his sharply attuned radar sense alerted him to the smallest detail of the urban world below him.

It had been a rough week for him. In a time when superheroes now found themselves hunted, he had just been made much more vulnerable than most. A local rag of a tabloid had acquired proof of his secret identity. He was now 'out.' The world knew that Matt Murdock, the blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen, was secretly the vigilante known as Daredevil. Now he was not safe in either persona.

A figure dropped down onto the roof behind him. Daredevil spun around, drawing his billy club from the holster on the side of his left leg.

"Easy big guy," the newcomer said. "I'm a friend."

He recognized the voice, the posture, the scent, and the way he moved, processing every bit of information from his four hyper-acute senses in an instant. He put his billy club away.

"Hello, Spider-Man," Daredevil said. "What brings you to Hell's Kitchen?"