Disclaimer: All the characters in this story are property of WB and DC Comics. I own nothing, nor am I using this for personal profit. Just fun. :D

Batman's mind raced. A frontal assault on the complex was out of the question; raw firepower was no match for smart tactics, and marching an army into unknown territory while holding a sharp strategic disadvantage was tantamount to slaughter. A small strike force would hold better chances of success, perhaps, but he wasn't going to let more risk their lives needlessly by walking into a booby-trapped stronghold crawling with armed zealots. J'onn had already gotten captured as a result of it, and the only one that came close to his infiltration skills was himself.

Hm. If he could slip in...

"I hope you're not planning on going in by yourself."

He met Superman's questioning gaze. There were times he wondered if Clark had telepathy and just didn't tell anyone about it. "You said it yourself, we have to do something."

"Yes – we." A hint of a smile curved his lips. "Don't think you're leaving us out of this."

"J'onn's our friend, too," Wonder Woman added, without missing a beat. "We have as much stake in this as you."

He got the distinct impression that he was being tag-teamed, and he didn't like it. "The larger the group, the harder it will be to hide our whereabouts."

"So, we stand in the open and fight," Diana replied, unflinching in the face of one of his more withering glares. She held herself with pride and authority, a fire in her eyes that caused his stomach to tighten minutely. She really was something else. "I'm coming with you – with or without your consent."

Superman stepped forward. "We both are."

Yeah, he was definitely being tag-teamed, and quite effectively, at that. Regardless of his own misgivings, he knew that there was little he could do to sway them from their course once they'd set their minds to it. He couldn't muscle their way through them, nor could he manipulate their perception of the situation to his (and ultimately their)advantage, and slipping out while they weren't paying attention was evidently out of the question. It looked like he was stuck with them.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't admit to being bothered by it. And that bothered him more than anything.

21.
Caped Crusaders

Batman grunted. "Suit yourselves, but don't go rushing into the first group you see; we're still not sure what kind of firepower will be waiting down there for us."

Superman shrugged. "Well, short of Kryptonite, magic, or robot clones, what could he have down there that would actually stop the three of us?"

On cue, he reached into one of his belt pouches, procuring four ear plugs and holding them in the palm of his hand. "Sound."

Clark blinked confusedly. "Sound?"

Diana sensed where he was going in the conversation, having already fallen prey to it once herself, and grabbed a pair to use. "Batman's right; the two of us may be more powerful than normal humans, but we're still susceptible to sensory overload. It would be easy to generate a high-pitched sound that would incapacitate us before long."

Dubiously, Superman plucked the other pair from his palm, staring at them as though they were slugs crawling around in his hand. "Was this another one of your schemes to stop us?"

"Yes." Superman didn't look at all comforted by his honesty. Oh well. "Also, be wary of any sort of chamber that looks potentially airtight – you may be invulnerable, but you still need to breathe."

If it were possible, Clark looked even less at ease than he did fifteen seconds ago. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"I give everything a lot of thought."

Superman placed the plugs in his ears, surprise brightening his boyish features. "Are you sure these will work? I can still hear everything."

"They're made of a specialty sound-dampening polymer – meant to drown out and nullify debilitating sounds while still retaining the ability to hear all other relevant information." He didn't add that those two pairs were specifically custom-tailored to protect the ears of individuals with super-powerful hearing, such as the two metahumans flanking him.

Superman frowned. "Where are yours?"

"My cowl is already equipped with them," he said, quickly changing the subject. "The complex more than likely has frequency jammers like the ones we found in the Metro Tower, rendering any communication between ourselves impossible if we get separated. We'll be own our own, and we'll only have one shot at finding him."

Talia, who to this point had been content to merely hold her unconscious daughter's hand and listen, looked up. "I'm coming with you."

He was afraid she was going to say that. "Do you know the layout of the base?"

"I'm sure I could find my way around," she replied enigmatically.

His gaze hardened. What was she getting at? "If your goal is to try and save him – "

"He has harmed my daughter, beloved," Talia rebutted forcefully, pale blue eyes hard. "There will be a reckoning. I will see to it."

Her sudden enthusiasm toward bringing down her father might have been welcome, if the malicious intent hadn't been so clear to read on her face. He couldn't worry about reigning her in while juggling a rescue mission. "We're trying to stop him, not kill him." He felt her rage and understood it, though – all too acutely. His mind momentarily wandered back to Dick. "He'll answer for what he's done, Talia," he added softly, as much to himself as to her. "I promise."

She pondered his words, posture still resolute in her decision, before she sighed. "Very well. I will remain here in case Nyssa's condition changes."

He nodded once, his vow having been made, and turned back to Superman and Wonder Woman. "We'll have to let the others know what we're doing, in case we're captured or killed."

"High hopes as always, huh?" Superman jibed.

"Regardless of the outcome, the League will be more vulnerable than ever without the three of us here," he responded as they exited the infirmary. The last time the three of them walked down these hallways like this, they had all been arguing over future expansions to the League, and who would be the one doing the majority of the training. Both Diana and Clark had immediately suggested he do it, since – according to them – he had the most experience with younger students, but he had none of it. He had his own problems to take care of, and his own proteges to train – he couldn't be bothered teaching more, not without allowing his heretofore separate worlds to mesh in a way that made him very uncomfortable. A Robin in the League meant a Robin that went out on missions without his guidance or permission, which meant a Robin that could get killed due to a teammate potentially letting him down when he needed their backup most.

Moot point, in retrospect – a month and a half later, he was tearing apart Gotham's underworld looking for him, because he'd done exactly what he feared others would do – he didn't watch the boy's back, like he was supposed to. Some mentor.

"Since when are you concerned about the League being vulnerable?" Superman asked in a careful tone.

He gave Clark a sideways glance. "Since the League is the only thing standing between Gotham and destruction."

Kent's eyebrow arched. "Not much trust for the military?"

"Not much trust for ex-Cadmus officials running the show." Specifically, Amanda Waller and whoever claimed to be ex-General Eiling. There was also that looming threat of a nuclear missile if they didn't find a cure before daybreak. He hoped that Waller would keep to her word and stall them, which only resulted in him feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Trusting Waller with anything was something he wanted to frantically avoid.

"Speaking of ex-Cadmus," Superman started, all reporter, "have you heard from Waller since you talked with her?"

His expression was characteristically impassive as he stepped onto the elevator that had just stopped on their tier. "In a sense..."

Waller adjusted her jacket, idly running a finger over the tiniest lump from the state-of-the-art bat-shaped bug that was nestled in her inside breast pocket. She certainly hoped Batman was an attentive listener. She leaned over Faraday's shoulder, getting a closer look at what he was looking up on the computer. "Have you found anything?"

Faraday tossed her an irritated glance. "It's only been five minutes." He returned to his work, speaking as he typed, "I've got security clearance for practically everything, but I'm going to start hitting some roadblocks if I don't find something soon. Whatever Eiling is involved in is high up – really high up." Said roadblock splashed across the monitor, letters blinking amiably at them. He sat back with a grunt.

She shoved at his shoulder. "Move aside, let me try."

Faraday regarded her with a mixture of distaste and curiosity. "What, you think you have higher clearance than me?"

"I know people," she mentioned distractedly.

"Oh yeah?" he huffed. "Then why not just call them up and ask?"

She didn't move her eyes from the screen. "It would draw too much attention to myself, and in this line of work, you don't want to do that."

"Funny, I thought that's exactly what you were always trying to do." Her clearance passed through the system with flying colors, detailing project files and highly classified documents. His expression darkened when he saw her complete lack of surprise. "You didn't need my help; you just wanted to throw off the scent trail by using my computer and access codes."

"It was a last resort," she said, pouring over the information in front of them. "If Eiling's information is faulty in any way, we could wind up murdering tens of millions for no reason."

He rested his cheek against an upraised fist, dark eyes cold. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"And if Eiling is backed by the wrong people," she continued, ignoring him, "they'll be very dedicated to making sure that we don't find out about it." Waller turned to him with an expression that seemed almost apologetic. At least, almost apologetic for her. "I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, I understand, alright," he groused. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She smiled thinly at him. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." She returned to her dissection of government documents, quietly adding, "Provided we live through this."

Faraday snorted. "Ever the optimist."

A strange hush fell over the ever-present buzz of activity that comprised the Watchtower bridge as Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman marched to the Monitor Womb in step. By themselves, they were forces to be reckoned with, but matched together, side by side, most couldn't help but genuflect in awe of their combined presence. Some called them the Big Three, others nicknamed them the Trinity – and, to many of the other Leaguers and civilian techs, they were: justice, vengeance, and truth divine.

Shayera, leaning on a console to read the latest data provided to them by their mystery hacker, craned her neck to stare over her shoulder as they neared. "Any word from J'onn?"

"We think he's been captured," Diana answered. "We're going down there to rescue him."

Shayera nodded and reached for her mace. "Let me contact John and – "

"You're staying," Batman interrupted curtly.

The Thanagarian whirled on her heel, gray wings fluffed in anger. "Listen, you can't keep – "

Batman held up a hand. "Green Lantern was right, earlier. We are being played, like pawns. And I'm one of them." The pause lasted less than a second, but felt significant, none the less. "I'm too close, Shayera. I'm losing my objectivity. I need someone who can think tactically – someone that he isn't targeting, and that can still give him a run for his money."

A pair of red eyebrows shot up. For Batman, this was practically a declaration of undying love. "And you think that's me?"

His lips twitched into the ghost of a grin. "You're the best Chess player I know." He reached around her, gloved fingers working over the keyboard of the terminal she was looking at. "I've put in the frequency of a bug on Amanda Waller. Keep it on at all times, and make sure you pay attention to everything you hear – any minor detail could be the one we need to stop the military from turning Gotham into a radioactive wasteland."

Shayera took the order in stride, green eyes focused on the console he'd just reprogrammed. "You really want the League to go up against your country's own military?"

"We've gone up against gods," Batman retorted evenly. "What's a military compared to that?"

"We'd better get going," Superman stated as he flew to the transport pad, Wonder Woman following shortly behind.

"I'll input the coordinates." Batman stood close to Shayera as he moved to set the teleporter's destination. Though Batman never seemed to care if he was in someone's personal space or not, he usually avoided any and all physical contact unless it was to cause injury. Wondering what he was up to, she was about to speak up when he quietly asked, head down, "What's my weakness?"

Shayera blinked, as if she hadn't heard him right. "What?"

"My weakness," he repeatedly more clearly. "What is it?"

She frowned. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I know I'm not the only one with countermeasures," he said, still making a show of working on the controls. She paled a bit, trying not to remember those days. Some of those wounds were still too fresh. "I need to know. How would you stop me?"

She knew, deep down, that he understood her reasons for keeping a list on her teammates better than anyone in the world, but then, that didn't make it right – that didn't make any of the horrible things that she did to her friends right. Her voice was shakier than she would've liked as she shamefully admitted, "By forcing you to sacrifice your life for someone else." He pivoted his head to stare at her, expression unreadable, especially through those opaque lenses of his. "You're too resourceful to be held captive; killing you was the only way."

"Who?" She didn't answer; she didn't want to. "You must have had someone in mind when you thought this out."

She swallowed, throat having gone inexplicably dry even as her alto strengthened. She tensed her shoulders. "Someone you care about – Robin, Alfred, maybe Clark or Diana, if I had them in custody. You'd never forgive yourself if you let them die." He looked away, focusing on the two that stood patiently on the transport pad. A beat passed as they both concluded that had she put her plan into action, it would have worked exactly as she'd hoped – pluck the right strings, and she knew he'd dance to her tune, just like everyone else. Shayera suddenly wanted to vomit. "I'm sorry."

Batman stood smoothly, hitting the key that began the transport sequence. "Don't be," he reassured, baritone neutral as he started down the stairwell. "It's what makes you a better opponent."

J'onn felt the wall surrounding Nyssa's mind finally buckle beneath his constant assault. With a rush of backlogged emotion, she sent out a fervent, 'J'onn!' It felt almost like an embrace.

He pressed against her mind curtly, trying to quiet her. Though he was glad for her freedom, the current situation took priority. 'Listen.' He began sending her vital information as he attempted to learn more from his captor, who currently stood oozing polite affluence in the face of his chained countenance. The dichotomy would have been enough to intrigue him in other, less life-threatening situations. "Releasing Hades and his minions won't bring about the rebirth that you're expecting."

Ra's hummed contemplatively. "I've heard of your exploits involving Hades. What Faust failed to understand is that one should never expect an even trade with a god – I ask for nothing in return, save that he ensures the world is returned to its former untarnished state. I will even give him an offering, to seal our pact."

"Offering?"

"Without a sudden burst of energy, the process of destabilizing the barrier between realms would take months – and given your interference here, I'm to assume that my window of opportunity has grown quite small," he explained. "That burst of energy will be coming from the people of Gotham, shortly after it is obliterated by a nuclear blast, sent forth by the very government that is supposedly there to protect them." The Demon's Head smiled slightly. "Ten million souls, delivered en masse, should be a suitable gift for one of Hades' status, should it not?"

The League had dealt with many variety of madmen, but he'd never seen one that exuded such conviction – the man before him truly believed, wholly and completely, that his cause was righteous and just, and that humanity's subjugation, if not outright destruction, would pave the way for a new Golden Age for the world. Ra's Al Ghul wasn't merely a puppetmaster tugging on the strings of the lost and disenfranchised for personal gain; he was a true believer in his crusade. J'onn's blood ran cold. "You're insane."

"Insanity is relative, J'onn J'onnz," Ra's riposted. "For example, you insist on saving a species that is determined to doom itself, even though you're aware of their hatred and mistrust of you."

"I am aware of the repercussions of my actions," J'onn answered, funneling all of this information Nyssa's way as quickly as he could. "Do you realize what Hades will do to humanity once you've released him? What he will do to you?"

Ra's appeared unconcerned. "Humanity is of no concern to me, and I have my own defense against the Lord of the Underworld." He reached into the neckline of his suit, pulling out a portion of a medallion, its thin gold chain reflecting the meager light as though it were luminescent. "An heirloom from Thailand that draws from magical energies that even gods fear to strike against. A bargain will be made, and then, the world will be reborn." He carefully stuffed it back into his suit, straightening his cloak with his hands as the cell door swung open, a slender figure walking up behind him. "It's a pity you won't be there to see it."

J'onn stared in surprise at the newcomer. "Dr. Dahluzett?"

The scientist glanced up to him, over the rims of her thin black glasses, and grinned politely. "It's good to see you again, J'onn. Do you like the accommodations I've made for you?"

She spoke as though they were at a charity banquet, and not in the bowels of a secret underground base. That certainly ruled out duress. Could it have been nanites? "You willingly assisted the Society of Shadows?"

She adjusted her glasses minutely as she replied, "I was presented an opportunity I couldn't turn down. Creating a transporter to another realm of existence? Think of the scientific implications of such a device!"

J'onn was tempted to tell her that such a device had already been created years ago, but decided for a more direct approach. "The implication is your device will bring about the annihilation of humanity."

"Humanity's family tree could stand a bit of pruning," she answered cheekily, thoroughly amused at herself. "Either way, any true scientist is interested only in the discovery; I've discovered a way to help reshape the world for the better. Who wouldn't want that honor?"

Definitely not nanites, then. He wished he could read her mind – or, at this point, he surmised what was left of it. He never suspected any treachery from her during the Watchtower's construction; she'd been odd, somewhat unpredictable, but nothing that hinted at this level of hubris. He began to wonder if scientists that weren't insane or out of touch with reality even existed, or, perhaps, if Batman's perchance for unintentionally attracting the severely unstable was in play here. Regardless, he decided that any further outside contractors they hired from this point on would go through the most rigorous psychological examination he could possibly create.

J'onn returned his attention to Ra's. "You knew the government would eventually resort to a nuclear response."

"Violence is the only response humanity understands," Ra's retorted. "It was only a matter of time before eradication became a viable solution to their problem. Manipulating the system to achieve those ends was even easier than I expected." His smile widened a fraction, eyes alight with a strange sort of mirth. "Falsifying evidence to claim that the League manufactured the disease in a gambit to curry favor with various political powers after finding a cure was all that was required to seal your fate in the eyes of many. I'm rather amazed that no criminal has ever sought to do so before."

His glowing red eyes narrowed. "You contacted Amanda Waller."

"Her mistrust of you runs deeply, yes, but not as deep as the once-great 'General' Eiling." J'onn furrowed his brows in confusion. Eiling? "Even with his power and influence, his fear of the Justice League drove him to toss it all aside in a failed attempt at vindication. Though the government he once spurned has foolishly allowed him reenter the fold, his vendetta against your organization remains as potent as ever. Ironic that he would be so enamored with the thought of saving his country from you that he would end up delivering it directly to me without knowing. I suppose that is the price to be paid for a lack of perspective."

Ra's turned smartly on the heel of one polished black shoe as he and his entourage slowly filed out of the small, dark room. "Now that I've answered all of your questions, I must excuse myself – the final preparations must be made before the assault begins."

"Wait," J'onn said, trying to keep his captor in the room, trying to buy someone – anyone – enough time to stop this, "I have one question left to ask you." Ra's stopped at the edge of the door, peering curiously over his shoulder. "Why did you pick Gotham City as your staging ground?"

"Concerned for the Detective's mental state?" Ra's questioned.

"I am concerned for the millions of lives you're putting in jeopardy," J'onn sidestepped easily.

Ra's eyes darkened briefly in distrust, before he stated, "The contagion which I created is no mere disease of the body; it is also a disease of the spirit. The weak, the weary, and the demoralized are far more susceptible to the plague's effects than an average, healthy human being, making Gotham City a prime candidate for infection."

"There are many such cities around the world," J'onn pressed. "Gotham stood out for another reason."

Ra's paused for a moment, as if debating on whether or not to answer. "Yes, there was," he said finally. "Years ago, I offered the Detective a chance to become my heir and continue my work on a more gradual scale; one that would not lead to such bloodshed and loss of life. His selfish dismissal of my proposal has forced my hand – if his desire to protect Gotham creates such an obstacle for him, then it is an obstacle that must be removed." He stepped through the heavy steel door frame, continuing as he exited, "There are times when one must sacrifice that which they love most for the greater good. No one man, no one city, is worth the world. It is a painful lesson that all men must learn in time – so, too, shall he."

The cell door slammed shut.

Faraday's computer beeped suddenly, breaking the deafening silence that had fallen between them. Not like they had much to talk about aside from work, anyway. "Found something," Waller declared.

King looked up curiously, sitting straighter in the hard-backed chair he dragged in from his kitchen. "What?"

"Take a look." He stood easily, sidling behind Waller to stare at the faintly glowing screen. She looked over her shoulder at him. "Does an organization named 'Checkmate' sound familiar to you?"

He shook his head as he began reading the documentation in front of him. Why did they always have stupid names? "Can't say that it does."

Waller scrolled down quickly, faster than he could keep up with, he noted with a scowl. One of these days, he was going to learn to speed read. "Looks like it's another NSA offshoot that deals specifically with metahumans."

He quirked one bushy black brow. "Isn't that what your department is for?"

"You know better than that by now, Faraday," Waller reprimanded him lightly. "Behind every Devil you know is another Devil you don't." She stopped scrolling suddenly, pressing one manicured finger into the flat LCD screen. "Look who signs off on the reports."

He saw the name before she pointed it out, his teeth set on edge in a battle between dismay and exasperation. Bureaucratic idiots. "Eiling. Why would they put him in charge again after his stunt in Metropolis?"

Waller's expression was carefully, expertly, flat as she responded, "Because the fallout of Cadmus rested squarely on me."

"The price of success." He batted her hand away from the mouse, squeezing her to the side so he could better see the monitor without having to hover over her shoulder like some sort of parrot. He frowned when the better angle didn't seem to adjust any of the information he thought he was reading incorrectly. "There's no list of any report from his agents finding the intel in that folder. Where did he get it?"

"Knowing Eiling, if it involved the League, he probably didn't bother to ask." With a speed that someone of her particular weight class didn't seem capable of, Waller stood from Faraday's workstation, cell phone in hand. "I need to inform the President of this; you need to find Eiling and bring him in for questioning."

Faraday's frown deepened. "Aren't metahumans your department?"

She pressed the cell against her ear, hastily answering, "Don't worry, you'll be receiving help."

He balked. "From who?"

On cue, the hallway lit up with a blinding column of light. When it faded, half a dozen costumed heroes of various shapes, sizes, and species crowded his living room. Steel slung his mighty hammer over one shoulder with a small grin. "You needed backup?"

Faraday blinked twice, then turned his head to a smirking Waller, who merely said, "I told you, Faraday – I know people."

Flash held the vial gingerly in his right hand, staring at the bubbling purple goop that was puddled at the base of it. So this was the vaccine. All of the simulations he ran in the last twenty minutes (nearly sixty; it would've been more, if the computer hadn't been so slow to catch up to him) came back the same – it rendered the active mutagenic properties of the disease inert and impotent. This stuff should do the trick. Well, he hoped it would, anyway. The plasma sample Batman got from his little spook next door was only enough to synthesize two doses of it – not a really high margin of error they were working with, here. Didn't really bother him all that much, though, considering that he'd been boomeranged near the sun, had his brain swapped with an evil villain, and saved the world a gazillion times beforehand with functionally less to go on than he had in his hand right now.

Wally's focus passed through the container and landed solidly on a barely conscious Nightwing, who laid limply on the bed. The vigilante's half opened eyes, which had been lolling along the ceiling for the better part of ten minutes, flicked toward him with an abrupt sharpness and clarity. "Take a picture," he huffed quietly, "it'll last longer."

"And gross out everyone? No way, dude," Flash riposted, mood brightening slightly as Nighty's dry and peeling lips twitched into a grin that seemed to come easily, even in the face of his deteriorating condition. This guy was every bit as stubborn as his mentor and then some (he was so going to have to wrangle them both into a poker match one day), and that served to further fuel his need to get this antigen up and running. Anyone that could out-Bat the Bat and still be awesome to hang with was someone worth pulling out all the stops for.

He softly flicked the glass with the tip of his finger, watching the solution froth within its confines for the breadth of a second. No time like the present. He inhaled and grabbed a syringe.

It had been years since Selina felt such a rush – an exhilaration – before flinging herself off into the night, on the prowl, and ready to take whatever she pleased. Back then, the rush was largely from her meetings with Batman, but with time came a coolness that crept into their relationship. She had gone from an equal, a not-quite lost cause that he could redeem, to just another painting in the Rogue's Gallery. She'd begun to wonder if he had grown bored of the chase and moved onto better, more responsive prey, but his actions tonight cemented that she made far more of an effect on him than she realized.

It was a shame that he'd given his heart to someone else, if only because that meant their eventual meetings were going to become that much colder. It was for the best, though. She was never very good at long-term relationships, and Bruce – Batman – well, his love was for Gotham first and foremost. In the end, she knew she could never compete, and really, being leashed to one city was something she couldn't do. Still, he deserved some measure of happiness, and if Bruce's mystery woman truly wished to give that to him, Selina certainly wouldn't begrudge her – because boy, did she have her work cut out for her.

She slid the mask over her face, glancing down at her skin-tight suit to ensure that her whip was firmly in place. It was, as it had been for the last ten times she looked. She stood atop the balcony of her high-rise apartment, Isis contentedly purring against her neck, and gaped down at the ordered chaos that went on in the distance. Now was as good a time as any to try out the whole Good Guy thing, she surmised. Maybe then she could finally figure out just what it was about it that kept drawing Batman to it.

She smirked, hopping onto the metal ledge in a lithe crouch as she loosed her whip. Besides, it wasn't like heroes didn't allow themselves small trophies of their victories, from time to time...

Nightwing, heavy-limbed and generally feeling like stir-fried crap, tried not to think about just how quickly he was nosediving. Leopard Fever affected the body, but his mind was still as sharp as it ever was, and right now, the prognosis was sounding really grim. That worried him, but not for the reasons one might think. The prospect of dying wasn't all that appealing – it really messed with his Feng shui – but he'd knocked on Death's door a couple of times before already, and well, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. What bothered him was knowing that his death would just give Bruce that much more of a reason to act like a manipulative, pigheaded jerk and push people away. That's not what he wanted his legacy to be; he didn't want to bring misery to those he loved. He couldn't stand the thought of it.

He grit his teeth, feeling them pulse painfully inside his head, and steered his train of thought away from the negativity that crept up on him. No, he wasn't going to die, and he reminded himself that it was actually a good thing that he was here. He knew that poisoned dart had been meant for Bruce, and if what he suspected about the disease was anywhere near accurate, all that festering guilt Tall, Dark, and Gloomy had been holding onto would've eaten him alive. Literally. Ra's probably knew that, too, which is why Bruce was set up the way he was.

No way was he going to die, not now, not like this. He needed to pull through, just so he could get in the fight and knock Ra's down a peg or twelve, and redeem his good name. Reduced to a spandex-clad damsel in distress – again? Come on, what kind of impression was he leaving on people with a record like that? Bruce was not gonna have all the fun, this time.

Of course, there was that small matter of beating a heretofore fatal disease without any idea as to how. That was the fun part. Luckily for him, he had a nurse capable of moving at the speed of sound to keep him from buying the farm anytime soon. Once all of this was over, he estimated that he would owe Flash about fifteen-thousand boxes of donuts. Chump change, in the grand scheme of things.

Flash entered the airtight chamber with a whoosh of air, syringe in hand. However, instead of injecting him with the churning purple mess, the speedster inserted a needle that was attached to a thin, translucent tube into his arm. In another whir of red, the tube was then attached to a fairly small machine that sat just outside of his cell, on a sterile metal cart. Dick blinked once, forcing his eyes to focus on both it and its operator. "What are you doing?" he croaked.

Flash rolled up one red-clad sleeve past his elbow, pricking his left arm with a similar tube-attached needle. "We don't have the same blood type, so I had to improvise." He patted the device on the cart once. "This bad boy here should separate the plasma from my bloodstream, and then pump it directly into you with a flick of a switch."

Dick's already pinched expression tightened further. He wasn't liking the sound of this. "And why do I need your plasma?"

At that, the Flash smiled, brazen and confident. "The Fastest Man Alive means the fastest metabolism alive." He held up the syringe. "Your condition's too advanced for any vaccine to help you now; your immune system just won't be able to keep up. But mine can."

Alarm bells rang inside of Dick's head, in time with the screaming of his muscles. "If that stuff doesn't work, you'll be killed in minutes. And even if it does work, you're still sending all your antibodies to me – meaning you won't be able to fend it off yourself."

Flash shrugged, lips still curled up in good humor. "Hey, what's the point of being a hero if you don't stick your neck out sometimes?"

The Flash injected himself with the vaccine.

Compared to the carefully controlled temperatures of the Watchtower, the climate of northern Cuba was like stepping into a sauna, even in the dead of night. Letting the long-since familiar tingling from transport fade from his limbs, Batman pulled out a pair of binoculars and quickly inspected the otherwise unassuming facility that loomed in the distance. "Remember," he began, "stay together, and don't stick your neck out unnecessarily – we won't have any backup coming."

"We won't need any." Without preamble, Wonder Woman launched herself into the hazy night air, lasso unfurled and fists clenched. Before any of the guards could successfully take aim at the humanoid missile hurtling towards them, she angled herself downward, plowing straight through a section of girders that held the reactor's communication tower aloft. The two remaining undamaged legs groaned and buckled under the added weight, toppling into the man-made courtyard in a shower of sparks; men scattered in all directions to avoid being crushed under tons of steel.

The plume of smoke, along with the chaos that erupted as a result of it, was noticeable even from their position nearly a third of a mile away. Batman sighed quietly. "So much for staying together."

Superman's expression was alight with what he assumed to be an appreciation for a fellow bull wrecking the local china shop. "Look on the bright side; she knows how to make an entrance. Come on." He then gripped Batman's forearm and took to the sky.

His eyes widened in momentary surprise and outrage, pointedly disregarding the way his shoulder popped unpleasantly from the sudden movement, before settling on glaring at the Man of Steel for all he was worth. Of course, as was often Kent's way when he did things to purposely annoy him, he was ignored. Still, it offered him a nice vantage point of the havoc Diana had created in such a short amount of time. The efficiency at which she'd turned the complex upside-down was impressive, to say the least. It had been a long, long time since he'd had the pleasure of watching her work up close.

That made her a distraction.

Shayera's words became all the more sharply focused in his mind as he, unable to shake the feeling that this was all one huge strategic blunder on his part, touched down along with Superman, but it was too late to worry about ifs and buts now. They were in the middle of the fray, with the telltale staccato of ricocheted bullets inside the building, and the overhead wailing of an air raid siren, signaling their arrival and the incoming rush of reinforcements flooding from the lower floors. Superman glanced upward. "Looks like they're laying down the welcome mat for us."

Eight soldiers sailed out of the building's entrance, landing against the cement with harsh cracks of broken bone and cartilage. It was Batman's turn to appreciate the scene. "We've got a welcome mat of our own."

Wonder Woman's silhouette appeared in the door, shortly before another armed guard was hurled head first down the hallway with an aborted shriek. "Are you two coming?"

The two men exchanged similarly amused looks, and for one, single, solitary moment, it was like the past four years had never happened.

He didn't realize just how much he missed this. (He wouldn't let himself.)

Batman mock-saluted while Superman smiled and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

To be continued...