The Tournament of Men

By superninja

A JLA Elseworlds fantasy, Animated Series style.

All characters belong to Warner Bros./DC Comics. This story is not intended for profit.

***

Diana eased down into the plush cushions on the floor, as the Piper drew the curtains of the inner sanctuary down around them. She could feel Dinah still standing, pressing against her as they were shrouded in darkness.

A flicker of light illuminated the Piper's face, as he placed the fire to the wick in one of the votives hanging from the ceiling, moving across the space to ignite each of the five one by one. Soon, they were bathed in a warm light.

"We do what we must to survive," the Piper began, putting out the fire and sitting cross-legged aside from them, his flute dangling from his neck by a leather cord and finally settling into his lap. "Sit down, girl," he said, looking over at Dinah.

She quietly took a seat next to Diana as he continued.

"Sometimes that means swindling those empty-headed cattle. Don't pretend you don't see them as I do."

Diana crossed her arms and stared back at the man. "Taking advantage of innocents is never justified."

"But are they innocent? Look at this girl," he said, nodding towards Dinah. "She would sell you to Alexander in a heartbeat if she could get a decent meal and maybe a few coins out of it."

Dinah leaned out towards the man in a rush of anger, her face rose red as Diana held her back by the collar of her dress. "I would not!" she said furiously. "Never! My family has never served Lex or any of those giant trolls he uses to scare us!"

"And what would you say, dear girl, if your companion was every bit a creature of magic as those 'giant trolls' you mentioned?" he said smoothly.

Dinah slowly turned and looked at Diana, as she hung from the collar of her dress. "There's no such thing as magic. He's just here to fight in the Tournament," she paused. "Right, Dyanisos?"

Diana sighed and pulled back her mask, revealing her face, releasing Dinah. It had no effect on the Piper, but Dinah gaped at her.

"You're a girl," she said in shock. Her face turned to stone. "Are you magic, like he says?"

"Yes," Diana replied. She felt guilty as the girl slumped onto the cushion next to her. When she reached towards her to reassure her, Dinah scooted away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"You see?" the Piper said. "They've been conditioned to hate magic, or ignore its existence. Alexander is not simply satisfied destroying what is left of it, he's erasing it altogether." He brought a pipe out from beneath one of his cushions and lit a small fire, burning the contents within the pipe.

Diana turned to the girl. "Dinah, look me in the eye." The young woman reluctantly looked up at her.

"I watched you master the crowds, even though you're still a child. You fight for your place in this world. In my world, a woman is equal to man." She smiled even though Dinah was clenching her jaw, her eyes watery from fear. "I have come to the tournament to prove it."

"Look deep into her eyes, m'lady," the Piper said, as the lamplight flickered around them, the air becoming thick from the smoke of his pipe. "See the fear there. Someday that fear will grow into hatred, and…"

"Silence yourself, charlatan!" Diana rasped at the Piper. The man raised an eyebrow and went back to his pipe quietly.

Diana looked back to Dinah, who had the last traces of a smile leaving her features.

"And you, Dinah, are wondering why a woman would disguise herself as a man, and why between us, I am owed the respect of a man. Some of it is magic, and some of it is not," Diana continued, turning towards the Piper. "Let him tell you the story, and do not be afraid. All of our futures depend on it."

****

"So, 'Flash'," do you do anything besides run fast and steal from the poor? I thought the idea was steal from the rich and give to the poor."

The redhead leaned against a house and scowled at him. "I outran you, didn't I?"

They were both standing outside of Dinah's house watching the crowds move to and fro through the narrow avenue, the city bustling and alive during the Tournament. O'Brien had been exiled to the streets by the Bat Man, that humbug. He was bored, and fingered the lucky rabbits foot that had been returned to him by Flash. He felt that urge again - the adventurous life of a thief. But the real adventure always alluded him. He was nothing more than a pickpocket and a second rate jester. O'Brien shoved the charm back into his pocket and looked at the boy for the first time. Really looked at him. Flash was a ball of nervous energy and frustration. O'Brien had been that once.

But now he was on a real adventure, for the first time in his life. Magic, kings, princesses and knights in shining armor (even if said knight was a complete jerk). Maybe this was his chance to be a hero, to make a name for himself. And maybe it was a chance for Flash as well.

"Y'know, kid," O'Brien said, stepping forward, "I'm the first to speak highly of a life of dishonesty."

"Oh, really," said Flash, over the throng of people. "Do tell."

"Not much to tell, O'Brien said, ducking past a man carrying roasted quail and lightly lifting one off, taking a bite while walking towards Flash.

"How'd you do that?" Flash whispered in wonderment as O'Brien settled next to him, the man marching away from them none the wiser that he was missing a bird.

"Want some?" O'Brien asked, holding out the roasted meat to him.

"Sure!" Flash broke off a leg and nearly ate as fast as he ran.

"I grew up poor, like you," O'Brien said, munching away. "And I thought that being a thief would lead to a life of adventure."

"It has!" Flash said enthusiastically. "You're going to the Tournament with a knight and a nobleman."


"Kid," O'Brien said, yanking the bone out of Flash's mouth, "This is it. All of the stuff before was just petty thievery and getting my name slapped on a list of criminals from here to the coastlands. Starving some nights, squeaking out of scuffles with people that would've gladly taken my fingers, or even my life."

"That got you here," Flash said, smiling.

"Yeah, and you're here now. Since you're such a sorry excuse for a thief, you might want to look into that hero stuff."

Flash stared at him dumbfounded.

"Where's your family, kid?" O'Brien asked. "Didn't you have a father around to tell you to save maidens from dragons and stuff?"

"My dad's dead," Flash said. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, at least you had a dad, and…"

O'Brien's words trailed off as the avenue filled with armed soldiers. Flash dragged him into the alley between the houses and they watched as the company stopped at Dinah's door and an officer banged on it.

"Bat Man's in there" O'Brien said aloud. "What do we do…?" He looked behind him and Flash was gone.

****

Bat Man was dragged into the dungeons, past all kinds of creatures, mostly magical, he thought, as they swept along in a blur. "Too many men," he tried to reason. And there were the girl's parents to think of. He'd been trapped in Dinah's house, and within the small space Alexander's men had overwhelmed him by numbers alone, no matter how many he'd wounded there seemed to be two more in place. Alexander had been ready for him, and someone had betrayed him. But who?

Turning his head painfully, he was drawn to the scratching noise that roared in his ears ignoring the crashing of his blood through his head. In cages were a werewolf and a kelpie - one hungering for blood the other for water. Bat Man didn't know them, but he knew he would soon be as desperate for freedom as they were.

He did recognize one in the chaos: A unicorn. Bat Man fought to remain conscious as he remembered that day. The only day of his life that had real meaning.

The last day he had a human heart.

His family had gone hunting as all nobles did (and always an adventure for any boy short of his tenth birthday). Father had raised the horn and they followed the hounds into the woods, chasing after the stags, resplendent in all their wealth; family crest emblazoned on their coats and the midnight of their finery - he remembered every detail. The smell of the woods, turning from summer to autumn, the grace of the horses as they charged through the reddening leaves. Even down to his mother's collar adorned with pearls as she was so accustomed to, and her bright, loving smile as he was so accustomed to.

And then another horn had sounded.

As a child, he'd though it was merely another hunt nearby; little did he realize *they* were the hunt. His father circled his family, trying to protect them, as confusion licked around them like a hungry fire. But, alas, his father was no match for the King's archers. An arrow met his heart, and he fell from his horse.

The world became still and silent, and the boy was suddenly outside of himself watching all that was happening. His mother's cries were muted as she dismounted onto the leaves and ran to his father. And then father and mother were driven through with arrows, like any other animal of the hunt. Something inside of the boy broke, and he slid from the back of his horse, ignoring the salty tears that were choking him.

His mother crawled over to him, her blood trickling over her hunting dress, the pearls from her collar broken, dropping on the ground like tears. She begged them to spare her child, begging them…her only child…

Then an arrow went through them both.

He never cried, even as a babe, and so when the hunters had declared him dead, the arrow piercing both mother and child, they had left.

And he stared up at the sky and asked so many questions, as his life seeped away. His eyes fell on his mother and father, like dolls thrown on the ground.

But he would never forget the shining horse that came to him as he stared at his family's empty eyes. Beautiful, bright and white - like an angel. Shimmering, she bent her single horn down to him and filled him with life. He would always remember her because she had cheated him. Her magic had separated him from his family, and he forsook all magic from that day on.

The manservant had found him later, still alive. Picking him up in his arms, he had carried him to a cottage deep in the woods and treated his wounds: Alfred, the most faithful of servants. Alfred had raised him, and told him of his father's stolen ring. The days since were marked only by vengeance.

A sharp jolt on the ground brought him from the past into the present. He was on his knees, as he heard the jingling of a set of keys and the creaking of a cage opening on its hinges.

"There comes the ponsy, dragging another of his prisoners along!" said a man behind bars, his beard overgrown, his body malnourished and the green of his suit the color of dank moss. "Been in the rouge pot and powder again, I see," he taunted, "You'll break my heart if you're not wearing lace pantaloons underneath that tunic, nancy!"

Bat Man raised his head, as heavy as an anchor, and looked over at the man with the fair hair and the bad attitude.

"You're funny, archer," another said. His voice was high and thin, like air being sucked from a room. "But the joke's on you!" he said laughing maniacally. "You've lost your head, as you'll soon discover."

Bat Man's eyes grew wide, he knew that voice. "The King's Joker," he said, seething through bloodied lips.

A pair of lively boots, purple leather entwined with gold settled near to his head.

"Oh, Bats, don't think I've forgotten about you. I think of you every day. I miss the old days, y'know." He yanked Bat Man's helmet up so hard he thought his neck might snap. "I'd just run out of things to break, and then Alexander delivers you. Today must be my lucky day!"

Bat Man didn't get a chance to reply as the purple boot kicked him hard in the temple, and everything went to black.