The Golden Gate Bridge has fallen. The city is in chaos, smoke rising from destroyed buildings, joining together into black columns. Most of the dark clouds dissipate into the upper atmosphere, the dreary gray providing a bleak backdrop for the menacing ship that hovers above the bay. A bulky man rides a small, hovering ship through the air, taking potshots at the fleeing citizens below while screaming obscenities.

"F%*# YEAHHH! I could get used to this!"

A nearby news chopper films as the man continues his rampage, moving further towards the city center. The camera operator hangs perilously out the opened door of the craft, intent on capturing the display of brutality for a live broadcast. A silver blur streaks into view, and the cameraman quickly re-frames his shot to include the newest anomaly. The blur stops suddenly near the invader, and the image focuses in, still too far to pick up any audio. The pilot begins to carefully edge the helicopter into a better position, still keeping a safe distance from the possible threats.

Victor Stone's booster rockets reduce their thrust, gliding to a halt near the large man. His cybernetic body is already reacting to the threat level presented by the foe in front of him. He senses weaponry powering up that hasn't been activated since his training with Batman.

*That's not good. Probably shouldn't try to fight this guy head on. Maybe I can just stall for time, wait for the rest of the League to get here.*

"Stop!"

The pale, muscular man's head snaps toward him. With a sneer, he maneuvers his craft to face the hero. He leans forward, resting his leather-clad elbows on the center console of his machine. Victor forces himself to reign back the overwhelming urge to open fire with every weapon in his extensive arsenal.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

*Keep him talking, keep him focused on you, the others will be here soon.*

The man leans back in his saddle, interlocking his gloved hands behind his head of raven-black hair. The dark diamonds around his eyes only work to accentuate the sickly yellow of his irises as he stares at the cyborg. Victor feels uneasy under this man's predatory gaze.

"Name's Lobo, and it's just a job."

-KERRAK-

Victor is falling. The spiked bolt in his chest has shorted out all electrical systems. He drops with all the grace of his namesake. The ground spins briefly into view as he tumbles wildly to the warehouses below.

"Ohhh shiiiii-

Lobo releases his foot from the hidden trigger mechanism and surveys the carnage around him. Spotting the helicopter not far away, he grips the throttle bar on his ship and twists savagely. The turbo thrusters roar to life, sending the sleek machine barreling toward the primitive airship. Turning the control bars sharply, he glides to an abrupt stop alongside the chopper. He laughs as the terrified cameraman falls over on his backside, the swaying floor beneath him betraying his footing. Lobo waits until the lens is securely pointed at him before he continues.

"Here's the deal! I'm gonna keep blowing this place to hell until someone gets out here and STOPS ME!"

Tapping a button on his center console, Lobo watches as the ship above the harbor lets loose another barrage. The clusters of missiles spread out from the hulking mass of metal, detonating across the city. Towers crumble and the rubble burns while people run in fear, seeking a way out of the madness around them. His eyes narrow, drawn to his central display as the console chirps for attention.

Looking to the horizon, he can just make out the tiny dots approaching the besieged city. A squadron of highly advanced fighter jets screams toward the bay, and his battle cruiser. Chuckling, he flips a switch on his console. The hulking mass looming above the water lets out an almost invisible burst of energy. In a blink, the bright blue wave flashes outward in an ever-expanding bubble, disappearing beyond the haze of destruction and smog in the air.

The fighter pilots find their controls useless, instantly short-circuited by the electromagnetic pulse. Quickly activating their emergency ejection mechanisms, the safety equipment thankfully works without failure. The ruined jets plummet into the water, sinking beneath the roiling waves. The pilots follow shortly after, slowed to a safer speed by their parachutes. Their elation at survival turns to horror as triangular dorsal fins appear around them. Slicing through the water, the creatures begin to move in on the stranded airmen.

Lobo cackles maniacally as the news helicopter crashes below him, the explosion lost in the mayhem around it. He throws his arms wide, his leather jacket flapping in the wind, he bellows a primal victory cry.

"Where are all the REAL fighters?"

A look of confusion crosses his face as a lasso closes around his left wrist. He turns to follow the rope to it's source. A woman floats in midair, the weak sunlight glinting off her bronzed armor. The rope is gripped tightly in her left fist, which peeks out from behind a small shield. She raises her right hand, the sword seeming to glow with a light from within, brighter than any other source in the smoky sky.

"That's more like it," he growls to himself.

The woman straightens, calling out in a clear, powerful voice.

"I compel you to STOP!"

Lobo lifts his feet from the control panels, gripping tightly to the saddle with his legs. The heavy machine falls to the earth, Wonder Woman trailing behind, still clutching the Lasso of Truth. Straining with effort, Lobo's arm arcs around, whipping the goddess at the far end heavily into the pavement.

Stopping his ship mere feet from the ground, he expertly levels the craft out as he angrily rips the looped rope from his arm. He tosses the tangled length onto the woman, who is struggling to draw breath after the shock of impact. Spittle flying from his mouth, the madman screams in fury while turning to face the injured Amazonian.

"NOBODY tells me what to do unless they PAY ME!"

He thumbs a control on the throttle bar, and the under slung barrel sparks to life. As the blinding light streaks toward Diana, Lobo closes his eyes against the glare. Once his vision readjusts, he crows in satisfaction upon seeing the smoking crater where the armored woman had lain.

Lobo's celebration is cut short as a large black shape screams out of the smoke and plows into him. Knocked free of his hovercraft, the vehicle clatters unceremoniously to the ground. The wind knocked out of him, Lobo grimaces in pain, ripping through the top layer of blacktop as the obsidian machine continues to push forward, carving a rut into the already destroyed street.

His right hand deftly slips into an inner pocket and withdraws a small square of interwoven fibers and wires. Moving quickly, he folds the square over onto itself and slaps the shaped charge onto the wing of the flying monstrosity. He raises his right hand from the metal craft to cover his face as the explosive sends a vertical line of super-heated plasma ripping through the dark machine.

He rolls free as the thing splits in two along it's length. Internal wiring sparks, igniting the now- exposed fuel reserve and causing a chain reaction within the sequenced battery terminals. The resulting explosion sends Lobo flying, crashing through panes of tempered glass. Propelled by the blast, he is sails through a small sandwich shop. His momentum carries him through the rear wall, finally rolling to a stop in a trash-filled alleyway.

Diana watches the fiery inferno, only a few city blocks away. She tries to clear her head as she surveys the smoking wreckage left in the wake of this recent assault. Realizing she is seated, she notices the hand on her back for the first time, gently but firmly propping her up. She looks up, her eyes widening in recognition before her brow furrows in confusion.

"Barry, you..."

Barry Allen forces a sheepish smile.

"I know."

She tries to rise, but her legs refuse to follow her wishes, and she stumbles. Barry offers his arm, and she gladly takes it, drawing herself to her feet and steadying herself against the young man. Spotting her sword a few paces away, she takes a tentative step towards the weapon, turning to look at her friend as her hand closes around the hilt.

"But, how did you..?"

"Don't know."

Giving an apologetic shrug, he looks back up the street, where a dark shape is extracting itself from the blazing wreckage.