Hello again, it's ShadowMajin and I'm here with the next Justice League story of Anonymous Void and my series. This time around, we're doing something different. Each of us has gone solo and written a story that occurs at roughly the same time, so you'll be seeing a story from the both of us. AV will be posting his story next week, so keep an eye out for that. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.

The Earth was a sight to behold.

Like a blue jewel on the backdrop of darkness, its beauty was breathtaking. The moon was further in the background, a pale imitation as it slowly, painstakingly, glided through the inky blackness of space. There was a silence that was comforting, which helped make the Earth the primary focus.

"You like it up here," the deep voice of J'onn J'onzz intoned.

Superman tore his eyes away from the planet to regard his friend. "How could you tell?" he asked in amusement.

"I rarely see you with a frown when you are up here," the Martian replied as he came to stand next to the dark-haired man. "There's a serenity you exhibit that I find most pleasing."

"It may be the view," Superman suggested as he returned his eyes to the planet. "In spite of all the crime and despair I've seen, when looking at it from up here, it's as if none of that exists. No matter what is done, Earth is going to continue to turn without a second thought. I guess there's some moral in that."

"Quite philosophical, if I may say so."

The two fell silent at that point, regarding Earth with admiration. It was times like this that Superman found were most enjoyable. There was no care, no worry, no concern. It was as if everything would be okay if he just stood there and watched the world turn.

Of course, as a hero, he knew that was not the case.

"I'm guessing you didn't come here to wax poetic philosophy," he said after a time. Looking to the green man, he then asked, "Is there something you wanted?"

"It has been nearly two years since you were coerced into attacking Metropolis," J'onn answered, not bothering to beat around the bush. "I wanted to see how you were doing considering the backlash you faced following that incident."

Superman's mood darkened. Though he was basically the equivalent of being drugged, he had been suckered in by the Joker and used as a weapon of mass destruction on the very city he had sworn to protect. The immediate aftermath had not been pretty whatsoever. Requests from the police had all but vanished, the citizens calling for him to be tried in court, or just to leave permanently. It didn't really matter where he went so long as he was no longer in Metropolis. After seeing images of the city after the attack and the accounts the others in the Justice League had written in their reports, the Kryptonian honestly didn't blame them.

Yet, he stayed. Though the looks of fear he saw as he continued to serve as the city's protector were concerning, slowly, but surely, people were beginning to warm back up to him. While there were still plenty of people that wanted him to leave the planet and never return—more than there had been before the attack—his relationship with Metropolis was improving every day. In fact, dare he say it, it was practically back to what it was beforehand.

And this time, he was going to keep it that way.

"I think I've just about won over everyone that I can," he said after awhile. "I doubt I'll ever win over the entire city again, but people aren't actively avoiding me anymore. The police are calling me in on difficult cases again, Luthor is still up to no good—it's almost like it's back to normal."

"I am glad to hear that." J'onn placed one of his large hands on Superman's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. "Not just anyone will continue to serve others in the face of fear and hatred."

"I wasn't the only one to suffer from that situation. Central City was hit just as hard."

"By its own citizens. According to Flash, people are trusting one another now. There's still some weariness, but it has more or less returned to what it once was."

That seemed to be a theme. People had lost trusts in others and that lost trust was difficult to restore. It was never going to be the way it was once before and that was a sad notion to consider. Still, it could've been a lot worse.

"Speaking of," Superman began, attempting to change the subject, "how is Flash doing?"

"Up to his shenanigans as usual. Apparently he received some sort of motor vehicle as reward for his services recently. Flash has been giddy about it."

"I think I recall hearing something like that." It was something out of a marketer's dream. Some used car lot had given Flash a van as a gift. It was allegedly for helping out the car lot's owner, but was more likely a way to get the city's superhero to be an unwitting spokesman for the owner. Flash had been ecstatic regardless and accepted the gift without hesitation.

However, if the car lot owner thought he was getting free advertisement, he was very wrong. According to news reports, Flash had spruced up his new ride, giving it a new paint job and other decorations. He proudly called it the Flash-mobile.

Wonder where he got the name.

"I suppose the next time we'll see him is at the meeting coming up," Superman commented after a while. "I hear he's busy playing with his new van."

"For you, perhaps," J'onn replied. "I have monitor duty with him in two days."

"Really? I thought it was you and John."

"Green Lantern switched shifts, I believe."

Now that was something new. It wasn't often John Stewart changed shifts with anyone. His military background dictated that when he had a scheduled shift, that was when he was going to fulfill it. There was one time where Oa had called him for an assignment, but that was it.

However, Superman had a slight inkling as to why John had made the change. Lately, the man had been spending more and more time with another of their co-workers, Hawkgirl. At first, Superman had been surprised to see their closeness, but apparently that was due to a recent mission they had worked on. It had only been the two of them and ever since they had begun actively hanging out with each other when off-duty. Though Superman knew he often missed certain signals between men and women, he was beginning to suspect these were early signs of a budding romance.

That sounded cheesy, yeah, but Ma Kent had sent him a romance novel not too long ago. It had been a pretty good read, actually. But it was the most likely culprit as to why the Kryptonian was reading between the lines in regards to his teammates.

There was a bemused look on J'onn's face. "I must read this novel of yours," he said humorously. "Perhaps I can glean some insight as well."

A blush appeared on the dark-haired man's face. "Sorry about that, J'onn. I didn't realize I was broadcasting my thoughts so loud."

"That's quite alright. Though I would like to hear your thoughts on another couple."

That got his attention. "There's someone else?" he asked with surprise. "Who? When?"

J'onn stared at him for a moment before he coughed uncomfortably. "I believe I may have misspoken. I had believed I had witnessed something quite obvious."

"What is it, J'onn? You can tell me."

It was a day for miracles it seemed as the Martian actually shifted his feet anxiously. Superman had never seen the Martian do any of these nervous behaviors before; it was remarkable, really. "It involves Diana," he was slow to say.

Superman's eyes widened. "Diana? Are you sure? With who?"

A moment later and a named popped into the Kryptonian's head. "Are you absolutely sure?" he practically demanded. "It wasn't that long ago she wanted to rip his head off from his shoulders."

"That was when we first met. They've both come a long way since then."

"But he wanted absolutely nothing to do with us. He was particularly mad at me and Diana."

"Is he still mad with you?" J'onn countered, raising the Martian equivalent of an eyebrow at him.

The dark-haired man paused. "I don't think so. He hasn't glared at me for awhile now."

"And who was the liaison between him and us when the state governor asked for the League's assistance?"

That would have been...holy moly. Was there something going on between them? "Do you know where they're at?"

"Not specifically, no. However, Diana was last aboard the Watchtower an hour ago. The logs say she teleported to Gotham around then."

It wasn't solid evidence, but there was quite a bit of circumstantial. Superman refrained from running his fingers through his hair. That was a nervous habit he had when he was stumped. "I really hope they know what they're doing," he said after awhile.

The saxophone played with a jazzy smoothness, filling up the club with its sound. The lights were dim, tables were filled with people watching the saxophone player along with his band. A drummer was keeping the tempo as he softly tapped the cymbals and drums with his sticks. A piano played in the background, making sure to never take the attention from the sax. Servers were walking around, delivering drinks to the tables. A man in a steam-pressed suit stood at center stage, holding a microphone stand tightly in his hand, bringing the mike to his mouth.

"Am I blue?" he sang. "Am I blue? Ain't these tears, in these eyes, telling yoooooou..."

"I don't believe I've ever been to a jazz club," Diana said as the singer continued his song. She was seated in a chair, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. There was a glass of liquor nearby, but she hadn't touched it since it had been set in front of her. Instead she watched the musicians and the singer perform their craft.

"I'm honored that I'm your first," Bruce responded, leaning back in his seat as he gazed languidly at the stage. Unlike the princess, he had his own drink nearby, half-empty by this point. It seemed like a good night for a drink.

A smile appeared on the dark-haired woman's face as she glanced to him. "What possessed you to bring me here? Not that I'm complaining."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders before picking up his glass, taking a sip of the whisky within. Though he was reluctant to call this a date, in some ways it was. He had stepped out of his comfort zone and invited the Amazon Princess to a jazz club and she had accepted. So far he hadn't regretted that decision. "Well, I wasn't in the mood for a charity gala; I think there's one going on tonight. The thought of wining and dining there didn't appeal."

"You didn't want to get dressed up, did you?"

The billionaire was also dressed casually, or at least as casual as a billionaire let himself be. Slacks and a button-down shirt comprised his wardrobe, though a nearby set of sunglasses were sitting on the table. Just because he was dressed-down—for him—somewhat didn't mean he was completely unrecognizable. Perhaps he was more dressed up than his date, but her choice in clothing matched with most of the club goers. "Maybe," he admitted as much. "Maybe I rather be sitting down in a dimly-lit room with much better company."

Diana picked up her drink then, finally taking a sip from it. "I suppose I'm the better company."

"I was actually talking about Ricky Valentino up there. I rather enjoy his singing voice."

The woman gave him a teasing look. Raising a hand up, she brushed aside some hair that had fallen in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "And you wanted to share that with me. I guess it's my turn to feel honored."

"You better. Ricky has an ego on him and if it isn't properly stroked, he can become a bit of a diva."

Diana chuckled. "I hear that's how most entertainers are. They would be most ashamed were they to hear the Muses. Their singing is divine."

"Considering they're considered the originators of song and story, I would completely expect they would put Ricky here to shame. Just don't tell him I said that."

A server appeared at their table. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked patiently. Bruce shook his head, his fingertips pressing against the top of his glass, his palm hovering over it. Diana at least granted him a "No, thank you." The young man nodded before he left them alone, leaving them to the soothing melody of the song.

"I'm sure you've heard that Flash has a new van," Diana ventured after awhile.

Bruce snorted. That was the dumbest thing he had heard of in quite some time. Whoever thought a man whose superpower was super speed would need an actual van was beyond him. That Wally West accepted it was just as baffling; it wasn't like he could drive it as a civilian, especially since it would raise questions as to why Wally West had the vehicle and not Flash. Yet, the speedster took the keys with gusto and hadn't looked back since.

"I sense some disapproval."

"You sense right." He took another drink. "Why does the fastest man alive need a van?"

"You don't know, World's Greatest Detective?" Diana asked teasingly.

Recently, the dark-haired man had earned himself a new title along the ones he had collected over the years. It was mostly due to his recent solving of a few cold cases that had begun gathering dust, which had prompted someone to call him the World's Greatest Detective. Someone in the press had overheard it and it had begun to stick. It was getting a better workout than the Caped Crusader, but not nearly as much as the Dark Knight.

Even being called such, however, didn't give him any insight into Flash's latest exercise in stupidity.

Diana was aware of this title it seemed. "To save you the suspense: I asked him. He said something about picking up chicks."

Bruce paused before looking to Diana. "And what on God's green earth made him think a van was a chick magnet?"

"I believe he said it wasn't the car, but the vibe it gave off. If they saw the Flash driving it, they would come to him."

"Or they'd run as far away as they could. A van doesn't invite people to it; it screams that it wants to kidnap people."

The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow. "Spoken from experience?"

"Half of Gotham has been kidnapped by white-panel vans. They've practically outlawed them at this point."

She shook her head bemused. "Your cynicism is showing. I don't see any harm in Flash owning such a vehicle."

"Then let's test his theory." Bruce adjusted himself in his seat as he faced Diana. "Would you ride around in his van?"

The Amazon paused before a grimace slowly worked its way onto her face. There was no need for words, it was evident just what the woman though of the van. Smirking victoriously, he slouched back into his chair even as Diana tried to hide her growing embarrassment behind her glass as she sipped from it.

Fortunately for her, the current song came to an end then, the audience beginning to clap. Diana set her glass down and joined in the show of appreciation while Bruce managed a few claps. Once the applause died down, another, more upbeat song started.

Immediately, Diana's head perked up. "I like the sound of this." Consciously—or unconsciously—she began to sway in her seat from her shoulders to her hips. It was almost like she were dancing in the chair.

And Bruce watched her. Perhaps it was the booze getting to him—though he honestly only had one drink so far—but he found himself appreciating her sensuous moves. He found them quite captivating. There was a part of him that wished he was the chair.

Diana seemed to catch his eye then. "Enjoying the show?" she asked teasingly, her motions gradually slowing down.

"I was," he admitted, pulling himself up in the chair as he realized he had sunk quite a ways down. "If you want, you can keep going. I have no problem with it."

Her smile was breathtaking—yeah, the booze was definitely talking here. "Perhaps if there was an area here, I could dance properly. You could join me."

"I would have to. With all of the men here, the moment you started I'd never see you again."

Diana's eyes twinkled with mirth. She then reached across the table, her hand reaching out to him. Bruce stared at the gesture before he dropped his hand to the table. Diana's followed, resting her hand on top of his. "I'm really glad you brought me here," she said earnestly. "I'm having a wonderful time."

Maybe it was his drink whispering to him again. Maybe it was the lighting in the room playing tricks with his eyes. Regardless, he thought he saw a hint of promise in her eyes, something that suggested more time with each other after this. It was quite alluring.

A small smile appeared on his face. "So am I, Princess. So am I."

There was a cool breeze thanks in part to the sun fading over the horizon. The seasons were starting to change, albeit later in the year than expected.

Shayera glided through the sky, lazily flapping her wings every so often to stay afloat. Not too far away was John Stewart, Earth's resident Green Lantern. The man was drifting from side to side in his flight, a result of all the alcohol he had drunk while at the bar they had just vacated.

Light-weight.

The redhead smirked at the man. He had boasted of his high tolerance to booze earlier in the evening; however, he had never taken a Thanagarian on in a drinking contest. As if Earth had anything that could remotely do her in. Though that absinthe stuff did pack a punch, she had to admit.

While she was flying uninhibited, John couldn't say the same. He was correcting himself every so often, which wasn't the norm for the military man. They were on their way to another bar, the next part in their planned night of bar-hopping. It was one of the things Shayera did to entertain herself on her nights off. If she was lucky, she'd get buzzed.

John, on the other hand, was more of a pick-your-place-and-hunker-down guy. That was boring for the record, especially when a fight didn't break out. A night wasn't complete if someone didn't get hit in the head with a chair.

"Seriously, Shayera," the Lantern said, "let's just find some place to sit down, alright? All of this hopping nonsense is just a waste of time."

"You know, you sound old when you say things like that," she remarked bemused.

"Well, I'm not exactly a spring chicken," he retorted. "I did all of this when I was younger and it wasn't that big of a deal then."

"That's because you were a boring old man when you were younger. Now quit your bellyaching. We have at least three more places to hit up. Need I remind you this was your idea."

"No, my idea was just to hang out at one bar—one. I never said anything about hitting every single bar in Midway."

"No, you said you wanted to go have drinks. You never specified any location. In fact, as I recall, you said it was my choice. You should've specified the limitations."

John glared at her. "Are you sure you were some lieutenant in the military? Because you sound awfully like a lawyer."

Shayera smirked back at him. "It's just a few things I've picked up since being on Earth. I'll have you know that I never talked this way when I first arrived."

"I don't think you talked at all. If you did, it was with your mace."

This time she narrowed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure you didn't mean to say that out loud."

There was a pause. "Uhh, I'm not actually sure if I did or not."

"Trust me, I know inner monologue when I hear it."

"Now how would you know what inner monologue is if it's supposed to be internal? I don't think you said you were a mind-reader."

Well, he did have a point. However, John began drifting to a side and down, which was bringing him closer to the buildings that were below them. In fact, one stood higher than its contemporaries and they were flying right for it. "Hey, you might want to focus on your flying. You're getting too close to the buildings," she warned him.

"Do I give you flying tips?" John responded irritably.

As if karma were alive and well in that moment, the Green Lantern flew head first into the tall building the redhead had spied moments before. It seemed she had been a bit late in her warning. Then again, John Stewart should've heeded her advice, you know, since she definitely had more flying experience than he had.

Soaring forward, she made a U-turn once she past the building, heading back to the other side. Once there, she saw one of the windows broken, clearly where John had crashed through it. Flying out to gain more distance, she once again turned around and made her way to the broken window. At the last moment she tucked her wings in and shot right through the hole, not so much as touching the jagged glass.

Immediately, she opened her wings and leaned backwards, stopping her flight. She touched down on tile flooring a moment later, her head turning left to right and back in search of her friend.

She spotted John on the far side of the room, crouching on one knee. "What did I tell you?" she asked as she approached him. "You weren't paying attention to your surroundings."

"Tell me, Shayera," the man said, his tone his usual serious one. The change from the friendly banter to what she considered his work voice immediately grabbed her attention. "Out of all the places in Midway, where would the military store their supplies?"

Military? The Thanagarian frowned. "The only place would be a military base, but there's not one for miles in this area."

John shifted to one side, reveal a dark green crate. It was small and rectangular, maybe a couple feet in height, four to five feet long. There were even black numbers painted on the wood, indicating a serial number.

More importantly, what was that doing here?

"I think we have a straggler," John said after awhile. He then aimed his ring at it and a green light flowed out of it. It was much like looking at a beam of a flashlight on the military crate, except it was green. "No booby traps," he muttered a moment later. "Let's open it and see what we're dealing with."

The green light vanished then. In its place a green-glowing crowbar appeared, one which John inserted one end into a crack on the crate. The wood protested as the lid was forcefully lifted up, the bodies of long nails being revealed in the growing gap.

And then the lid came off, revealing a bedding of hay inside. More importantly, small packages rested in the hay. To Shayera, they looked very much like high-powered explosives. The only thing missing was the usual C-4 characters printed on the packages.

"I don't know about you, but that looks like an explosive to me," she spoke after a moment.

"I'm gonna have to agree with you on that one," the Lantern replied, his eyes focused on the crate's contents. "Let's take this to the Watchtower and use the database there to track down the serial number. We should also check out the rest of the building for more of this stuff."

"Or for other suspicious-looking crates," she added.

"That too."

"You know, I was looking forward to a night off from work."

"Me too, girl. Me too."

For you BM/WW fans out there, I'm sure you recognize the song Ricky Valentino is singing. That one's for you.