Hello everyone, ShadowMajin here. This time I'm going solo on this next addition of my DC Universe and my first into the Justice League fandom, my usual co-author opting out. There are quite a few references to my other Batman stories The Ninth Circle, The Sixth Move, and particularly City of a Thousand Laughs, so for those who haven't read them, there's some spoilers in the upcoming chapters. As for this story, I'm pretty excited about it. I hope you all enjoy it.
The sounds of constant chatter filled the room, mingling with the constant typing of computer keys and the stamping of shoes on polished linoleum flooring. Phones rang unabated, men and women answering them with varied levels of civility.
It was after lunch at the Daily Planet, so scenes like this were a dime a dozen. Morning stories were just being finished for publication, be it for the newspaper or its online webpage. Though rushed and stressed, most of the people here were nice once they weren't chafing at deadlines set in stone by the paper's infamous editor.
Clark Kent wasn't one of those people. He was currently on break after sending in his story about the latest bust on Lexcorp, a thrilling piece on the toxic waste one of its plants in Arizona had been producing and subsequent dumping in one of the state's rivers, which just so happened to be the biggest source of drinking water for the citizens of the Phoenix metropolitan area. It had taken a lot of hours and a quick trip to the desert to make sure everything was correct. Perry White hadn't stopped gushing about it for ten seconds until he ordered the taller, buffer man out of his office and to get back to work.
That was usually the way it was around here and Clark loved it. It also didn't hurt that he was partnered with one of the paper's most famous reporters, the lovely Lois Lane. She had been a veteran for the paper for all of six months when they met and her fiery personality had left the dark-haired man speechless. It had taken the better part of three months before those steely purple eyes had lightened up and Clark wasn't walking on eggshells around her.
Of course, perhaps part of that came from his other alter ego.
Today, however, Lois seemed to be subdued, her firecracker personality pulling in a disappearing act. Seated at her desk, one of her bare legs crossed over the other with her white skirt draped over her thighs, the dark-haired woman stared at her computer screen, an email looking right back at her.
Leaning forward over his own desk, his white dress shirt pressing up against the wooden surface, Clark called out, "You okay there, Lois?"
The woman jumped in her seat before turning her head to look at him, her long black hair dragging against the back of her purple suit jacket. "Yeah, I'm fine, Smallville," she said quietly. "Just lost track of time is all."
Glancing to Lois' screen, Clark focused on the email window, his eyes squinting as he did so. It was gradual, but the letters on the screen went from a jumble of black font to clear letters. It was then he realized just what was putting a dark cloud over his fellow reporter.
"So it's that time of the year, right?" he asked more for clarification. Anyone familiar with Lois' backstory knew what the cause of her melancholy was. Before she had arrived at the Daily Planet, she had done the beat in Gotham, doing such a good job there that she had eventually been offered a job in Metropolis.
Towards the end of her tenure in Gotham though, the dark-haired woman had begun doing stories of the city's infamous vigilante, the Batman. A couple of her pieces had even been up for the Pulitzer, but neither brought in the win. Though pissed, she continued churning out her work as if she hadn't been insulted and spat upon by "clueless idiots who haven't written a story since Hitler was still alive." Her words, not his.
Though, what was more fascinating than Lois' story was her claim to have actually met the Batman. She didn't talk about it much, but one day, during a lunch break, she had let it slip that she had encountered the vigilante during the so-called Night of Ice. She didn't go into much detail no matter how much he and the Planet's top photographer, Jimmy Olsen, pressed.
That all changed about three years ago when, for a two-week span, a madman simply known as the Joker went on a rampage throughout the city. The resulting damage had annihilated the Gotham City Police Department, set a third of the city on fire, and ended with the death of the Batman. Though it was believed the Joker also perished in the flames, no body was ever found.
That wasn't the case with the Batman. A damaged cape and mask had been found in the wreckage, all but confirm the man's demise. For Clark, it was a terrible reminder that even heroes could die given the right circumstances.
A reminder he was more than familiar with lately.
"Yeah, same time as last year," Lois eventually answered.
"So you're going to the memorial service again?"
Due to Lois' connection to Gotham, she had been the reporter sent to do the story on that tragic night—then again, she had all but told Perry that she was going no matter what he said. The older man had given his blessing with, "You better get a damn good story out of this, Lane."
And every year since, a memorial service was hosted in Gotham, to which Lois always attended. Perhaps it was because of her meeting with the vigilante that she was so personal about this story; Clark felt that was the primary reason for her annual melancholy. Of course, once she got back she was the familiar spitfire she usually was.
"Of course I am," she replied before letting out a sigh. "Not sure why I go anymore. Gotham's not the same it used to be. It's gotten too dangerous."
"Because the Batman isn't there?" the dark-haired man suggested.
Lois raised a hand up, waving it flippantly as if she were searching for the right way to answer him. "I think so, yeah, but it's way worse than when I was living there. It's like the city's lost its soul and is drowning in darkness."
Clark did not like the sound of that. Say what you want about Lois' usual temperament, that was no place for a lady, much less a full-grown man. "Why do you go then? I'm sure there's plenty of others willing to take over."
Normally, Lois would've glared him down to the point he felt like an insignificant worm. If there was one thing the dark-haired woman wasn't, it was delicate. The first time Clark had made the mistake of indicating she was in over her head, she had threatened him with emasculation if he ever said that to her again. So it was a credit to the dark-haired woman's mood that she didn't pull out a rusted knife and made to rip off his pants.
Instead, she let out another sigh. "I guess I feel like I owe it to…" She hesitant for a moment before finally saying, "Myself. It's just something I have to do, kinda like our Boy in Blue."
Which to Clark meant it was for anyone but her. Ignoring her reference to Metropolis' own hero, the dark-haired man felt now was perhaps a good time to poke into his partner's earlier days. Though he hated to admit it, her depressed state was a rare opportunity, one Lois would've dived in head first if their roles were reversed.
"What was he like?" he asked softly, so as not to startle her out of her mood. "Batman, I mean."
Again, Lois stared out into space before the corner of her mouth twitched up, a flicker of life appearing in her eyes. It was an unexpected reaction to say the least. "A jerk," she grunted out. "He was a total jerk. If it weren't for daylight hours, he'd probably be beating up every punk and thug he could find 24/7.
"That being said, underneath all the gruff and piss-poor manners, he was a decent guy. Not someone I'd take home to meet mother, mind you, but he meant well." She sighed then. "He didn't deserve what happened to him."
"Whoa, that's pretty heavy stuff, Lois."
Clark turned his head to look at a young redhead standing next to Lois' desk. That was Jimmy, freckles and all. He even had his camera hanging around his neck by its neck strap, always ready to take a picture when the need arised.
"Well, talking about dead guys tends to do that," the dark-haired woman snarked. "Don't you have some pigeons to take pictures of, or something?"
Jimmy didn't look offended by the woman's curt dismissal of him—in fact, he was probably one of the few people not taken back by Lois' more acerbic barbs. You normally couldn't tell considering how youthful he usually acted. "Actually, I came to remind you about the Mayor's press con—"
"The Mayor's Press Conference," Lois immediately interrupted, straightening up in her seat. Gone was the depressed woman and in her seat was the sharp-eyed reporter. Hands quickly straightening out her blouse and jacket, the dark-haired woman reached for her purse, opening it and checking to make sure all of its contents were in there. "Pen, pad, tape recorder," she mumbled to herself before snapping it shut. "Alright, Jimmy, let's go. Catch you on the flip side, Smallville."
Clark gave her a warm smile, watching her march off with Jimmy trailing behind her. Sometimes it was amazing how that woman could change her moods when need be. It was nice to see her showing some semblance of her normal self.
And speaking of normal selves, there was something else he needed to work on, though it wasn't necessarily work related. Turning to his computer, the dark-haired man pressed a hand on his carefully combed and gel hair, making sure it was still intact before reaching to his keyboard and began typing.
Over the last couple of weeks there had been a rash of robberies that had been vexing law enforcement lately. The robbers would break in, stealing whatever it was they were after, and get out without setting off a single alarm. The crimes usually weren't discovered until the next morning, when the owners or their employees would stumble upon the scene.
Most discerning to Clark was that he hadn't heard a single one of them. Considering he had above-average hearing—which was a severe understandment—the dark-haired man was very concerned about the ability of these robbers. It was luck that no one had been harmed yet, but it was only a matter of time until someone innocent walked in on the robbers.
So that was why Clark was up in the lower stratosphere, focusing on his hearing to pick up on anything that could signify the latest robbery. So far the robberies had only involved the theft of valuables and money, so he was currently…
Oh wait, he hadn't explained why he was up in the stratosphere. It'd be confusing for those who were unfamiliar with him and his abilities. Many apologies.
Clark was not your average person, if you hadn't figured out by now. In fact, he wasn't even human; he was the last surviving member of an alien race that had been wiped out by their planet exploding. Though he didn't know what had led to such a catastrophic event, it had resulted in his birth parents placing him within a rocket and launching him into space.
That craft came to land in a cornfield in the middle of rural Kansas, where two humans by the name of Jonathan and Martha Kent found him. The Kents had taken him in and raised him as their own even when he began manifesting his non-human traits.
And those traits were vast indeed. Super-hearing, super-strength, the ability to fly, the list just went on and on. Clark even suspected he had yet to tap into his full potential. And due to his upbringing, he found himself wanting to use them for the betterment of his fellow man. For that he had been given the name Superman.
Red cape draped over the blue spandex of his body suit, Superman hovered over the light cover of clouds, the lights of Metropolis shining up to greet him. A red S encased in a yellow diamond design proudly announced his emblem to all who laid eyes upon him, be they good or bad.
Though anyone would've been hard-pressed to spot him as high up as he was. The main reason he was up here was to give himself better access to all the sounds throughout the city. Superman may have had sharp hearing, but the presence of the buildings acted as buffers that could distort, if not hide some sounds, no fault of their own. By removing those buffers, he found he had better access to every sound made throughout Metropolis and this was what he needed to catch his quiet thieves.
A sense of pride began building up within the Kryptonian. There was very little in the acts of crime tonight, something he was glad for. While Metropolis didn't have Gotham's reputation for criminal activity, that didn't mean there wasn't any. For the four and a half years he'd been at this, he was proud to say that the crime rate had plummeted thanks to his interventions.
A sharp sound went off, interrupting Superman's musings. That was a silent alarm coming from—he focused his hearing, isolating the source of the alarm—the Metropolis Museum.
In a split second, he was rocketing from the sky towards the museum, arms extended out in front of him, wind beating at his body as his cape flapped behind him. He was like a blue blur crossing the sky until he reached his destination, hovering in front of the large building.
From where the Kryptonian floated, he could see no visible sign of entry; it was time to make use of one of his other powers. Eyes squinting—mostly due to habit than any real need—Superman's sight began closing in on the face of the building until he saw through it. The layout of the museum greeted him, the exhibits appearing before his eyes. There were a few points he couldn't see due to the presence of lead, but that was due to the composition of the exhibit more than any real attempt at deception. For all the uses that x-ray vision gave, it could still be blocked by the right amount of select minerals, in this case lead. Considering that this was becoming wide-spread knowledge, some less than savory people had begun taking advantage of that.
Still, that wouldn't be a problem tonight. In short order, Superman soon spotted the people he was looking for. On the ground floor, next to a skeleton of a T-Rex stood a few men, each dressed in head to toe in some sort of bodysuits. There appeared to be goggles over their eyes, but other than that there wasn't any other obvious identifiers.
Superman frowned. Who were these guys? They didn't look like any robbers he was familiar with.
Another sweep of the building with his x-ray vision showed there were two other robbers on the second floor, standing next to a glass case with a large red ruby in it. This alarmed the Kryptonian. He had been assigned a story by Perry on that jewel, so he was very familiar with the security system surrounding it, especially the sensory beams that protected the gem. The fact that those two men stood next to the case without having broken one of the beams spoke of just how skilled they were.
The Kryptonian frowned again. If these men were skilled enough to avoid detection by a state-of-the-art security system, then why did the silent alarm go off? Something wasn't right about this.
That would be something he would have to ask them. Looking to the roof, Superman flew over to it, looking for an entry point these men used. He found a glass enclosure that showed no sign of damage, so that obviously wasn't it. However, he could very well use it. Landing on the ground next to it, he quickly located one of the lower panels that had a padlock lying under it. Kneeling down, he picked up the lock and squeezed it in the palm of his hand. Instantaneously, he felt it crumple and break into pieces. Opening his fingers, the remains of the padlock dropped onto the roof.
Feeling against the metal frame, Superman soon found the groove that separated the panel from the rest of the enclosure. Pulling it up, he created an entry point for him to sneak into the museum.
Once in, he was a blur of blue and red, appearing behind the backs of the two men standing before the ruby case. These guys definitely had some skill as they had managed to remove the jewel from its case in the time it took Superman to spot them and gain entry into the museum.
So it was with a stern tone of voice that he said, "You do know that doesn't belong to you."
Their reactions were instant, the two snapping around to look at him. Due to their masks, he couldn't see the shock that was undoubtedly on their faces. "Now, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way," he continued. "Either way, you are leaving that ruby where it belongs and you will be coming with me."
In response, both men pulled out guns and opened fired on him. Calmly, Superman let the bullets pelt him, the pieces of lead either flattening against his body, or ricocheting off into the walls.
So it was going to be the hard way as usual.
With the blur of his arm, he slapped the guns out of the robbers' hands. Though it felt more like a tap to him, the weapons were practically ripped from the men's grasp, shattering into pieces as they hit the wall. The robbers looked at the remains of their guns before looking back to the Man of Steel.
"Had enough?" the Kryptonian asked.
That's when he heard something bouncing on the floor drawing closer to him. Turning his head, Superman was taken back by the sight of the other robbers standing several yards off. How had they been able to sneak up on him without him hearing them? His attention was soon drawn to a baseball-sized ball rolling to his feet.
Suddenly, stream of gas blasted out of the ball, immediately filling the air with noxious fumes. More out of instinct than anything, Superman shot his arms up to cover his face, breathing in the gas and promptly trying to cough it back out. As irritating as that was, tears began to well up around his eyes to protect them from some irritant in the gas.
Two forms raced passed the Kryptonian and it didn't take much for him to figure out it was the robbers. So they thought they could escape from him by throwing a gas bomb at him? They were about to find out just how wrong they were about that.
Launching himself, Superman flew out of the smoke, the sudden rush of air against him riding his eyes of the irritating gas. It also gave him cleaner air to breathe and he allowed it to clear his lungs. Seeing the escaping men, he poured on some more speed and stretched his arms out to either side of him.
This allowed him to ram his arms into the backs of two of them, causing them to bend over backwards from the blows, their legs flinging up from the floor. Coming to an abrupt halt, Superman watched as momentum kept the men airborne, sending them flying across the room until they crashed into an exhibit presenting two Japanese-style armored suits. Superman winced as he watched the pieces of armor break and scatter about the floor. He was gonna have to apologize to the curator about the mess.
A whirling sound caught his attention then, causing him to turn in time to see spinning ninja stars glance off his shoulder. That surprised him; what were ninjas doing robbing museums?
To add to the mystery, one of the remaining standing ninja began barking orders out in a foreign tongue. In response, two of the ninjas withdrew swords from scabbards on their backs. Holding the blades in front of them, they began circling the Man of Steel in opposite directions.
While he could respect dedication, Superman was pretty sure this was all some pointless exercise in resistance. It was pretty obvious none of these men were a challenge, much less harmful to him at this point. It was time to put an end to this and get some answers.
Sucking in a deep breath, Superman then aimed his head towards the closest sword-wielding ninja and let out a quick burst of air. That was the equivalent of a 60-mph galestorm, which served to blow the ninja off his feet and sending him flying across the room until he slammed into a wall. He quickly slid down to the floor, going limp once he hit the floor. A quick jerk of his head allowed Superman to do the same to the other sword-wielder, his sight lingering on the ninja until he too crashed against a wall.
That just left the leader. Turning his sights to the man, Superman caught sight of something flying towards his face at rapid speed. Shooting a hand up, he caught a thin, black dart, yellow feathers decorating its end. Staring at the dart's tip, the Man of Steel was quick to notice a substance carefully applied to it. No doubt it was some sort of poison. With a quick blow of air, he made sure to lower the temperature of his breath, causing the dart's tip to freeze over with a layer of ice. Sure that it wouldn't harm anyone, he dropped the projectile to floor, hearing it clatter on the tile.
With a burst of speed, Superman launched himself into the air, closing the distance between him and the last ninja and ramming his shoulder into the man. Combined with his blow and speed, the dark-haired man lifted his opponent off the floor and carried him through the air against his body until they hit a support column holding the roof up. The ninja let out a gasp of pain before the Kryptonian grabbed a fist full of his suit, holding him high off the floor.
"Let's try this again," Superman said, looking up at the man. "What are you doing robbing the museum?"
The ninja stared down at him, refusing to answer. This caused the man in blue to frown. "This will go a lot easier for you if you'd tell me what I need to know. The sooner your cooperate, the sooner we can be finish with this."
Again, the ninja remained silent, but eventually did say something—in an entirely different language. it was the same one he had used to give commands to his men, but it was still one the Kryptonian couldn't translate. This only frustrated him. "Look, I get it, you don't want to talk, but lets face it, you're not going anywhere. You and your men are going to jail and you might as well make it easier on yourself by talking."
That caused the man to begin laughing, though the rough nature of his voice made it sound as if he were barking. "That is what you think, Alien."
The sudden usage of English caught Superman off guard, but he fully realized the ninja thought his view of things were wrong. Whipping his head around, the Man of Steel was surprised to find that he and his captive were the only ones in the room, the other ninjas mysteriously gone. The only evidence that they had even been there was the wreckage of one of the exhibits.
Eyes widening, Superman took a moment to compose himself before looking back at the one ninja he did have, giving him a stern look. The man seemed to get a kick out of this and began to taunt, "We are not the simple criminals you are used to dealing with."
"Where did they go?" Superman demanded, tightening his grip. "And believe me, I will get you to talk."
The ninja snorted before responding, "There is no need for threats, Alien. We both know you will not harm me."
Hardening his features, Superman slowly lowered the ninja down until they looked each other at eye level. That was when he suddenly threw a punch, slamming his fist into the column and leaving a spiderweb's worth of cracks. "The next one will be for your head."
The ninja had his head turned, looking at the cracks. He then looked at the Kryptonian before saying in a more subdued tone, "Despite what you believe, I know very little."
"Then we can start with what you do know."
The man seemed to consider that before nodding. "Etemenanki."
"Etemenanki?" Superman repeated. "What is that? A person? A place?"
The ninja merely responded with pointing in a direction, what Superman took to be the east. "Across the ocean and into the mountains, that is where Etemenanki lies."
"You're going to have to do more than that."
The ninja shook his head. "I have told you everything I know. For that, my life is forfeit as required by the League of Assassins.
"I only wish I could see your face when you fall."
Before Superman could figure out what that meant, the man's head suddenly jerked up, his body spasming. In shock, the Kryptonian released his hold on the man and stepped back, watching him collapse onto the floor, going limp. Staring, Superman was wary as he slowly knelled down and made to remove the ninja's mask.
When he got a look at the man's face, he suddenly realized just what happened. The Man of Steel was greeted with a mask of death on the ninja's face, black lines spreading all over his face and neck like veins. The ninja must've had some sort of cyanide tablet in his mouth and cracked it open. Damn it.
That just left this business with the "League of Assassins." The dark-haired man hadn't ever heard of them before and he got the feeling there was more to them than a bunch of robberies. While he didn't know much about this Etemenanki place or person, that was currently his only lead at the moment and it was best to follow through on it.
Stepping away from the dead man, the Kryptonian lifted up into the air, exiting out the same way he entered and turned east. He was going to get his answers one way or another and he'd get it done tonight.