First off, I'd like to thank all of the people that reviewed for Chapter 1. I always appreciate feedback on the stuff I do and it makes me feel good that someone's enjoying my stuff.
I'd like to quell one fear right now: -ahem- This story will be finished. I feel sorry for a lot of you that post things like "Please write more" in the reviews because it means you, like I, have stumbled across authors that don't finish what they start. You have no need to fear that with me. Now, since I'm going against my normal modus operandi and releasing these chapters as I finish them, I can't promise as to how fast they will be released, but you have absolutely no reason to fear that this tale won't be finished. It will, I promise.
There was some confusion in the responses I got over the incidents in Chapter 1. The scene with Tim and the Joker was taken almost verbatim from the movie; in fact, I actually watched pieces of it repeatedly to get the action right. There were, however, two versions of The Return of the Joker that Warner Bros. released. One is the edited cut, and the other is the unedited cut. The events in Chapter 1 are taken from the unedited version. I meant to put that in the author's notes before but, stupid me, I forgot. -bonk-
Despite what the release dates will tell you, this chapter took me over three months to complete. You can blame every last stinkin' iota of it on J'onn. His portions are what held me back. I must have at least fifteen different versions of this chapter floating on my computer because of him and his stupid complicated . . . complicatedness. So, yeah, today has been declared national 'Kick a Martian' day.
Okay, sorry that was so long but I needed to clear up some stuff. And now, on with the show!
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah, remember to kick a Martian.
Chapter 2
No one wanted to talk.
The silence in the Javelin-7 during the flight back to the Watchtower was as uncomfortable as it was total. Green Lantern and Superman were too irritated to strike up any meaningful conversation. Hawkgirl, for reasons still unknown to modern science, sheathed her normally combustible temper and focused her attention solely on driving. J'onn offered little in way of conversation, staring morosely outside the triple-layered windows of the ship, and Wonder Woman knew better than to disrupt the delicate spell of silence that was both choking and saving everyone present. The only one left to break the tension was Flash, and he was busy in the bathroom, completely convinced that he had swallowed some of Clayface.
No one really knew why they were going back. It was still early. With the recent uprising of criminal activity it was almost guaranteed they'd be out on patrol again in another hour. Over the past six weeks they'd each secretly come to resent the whine of the alarm system, calling them yet again to another crisis. It was possible that, somewhere deep in the collective consciousness of the League, returning to the Tower was supposed to somehow finalize their intent on staying there. Of course, no one really believed their luck was going to be that good, but even super heroes were allowed to dream.
Long, dark shadows played across the ample nose of the Javelin-7 as it crept slowly into the loading dock. Everything seemed calm. Though the computers within made sure the Watchtower was never completely silent, there was a certain state of tranquility that came over the fortress when it was vacant. Unfortunately, the "silence" did not last for long. Just as the Javelin's back wheels were clearing the bay doors, a series of crimson lights began playing in circles along the floor. Within seconds, the inevitable, grating shriek of the emergency alarm was ricocheting around the metal room.
"Not again" Flash groaned, staggering out of the bathroom at justthe right moment to deliver his usual, vital commentary.
It stirred up even less of a response than normal. The only movement in the cabin was Hawkgirl's eyebrows as they furrowed in concentration to maneuver the giant ship fully inside the bay. Within seconds, a soft thunk announced that the locking mechanisms on the docking floor had seized the wheels. She reached over to pull up the cause of the emergency on the Javelin's internal computer. "Distress call" she announced to the others. "Looks like its coming from Texas."
Superman nodded stiffly. "Lets go see what it is."
Several minutes later found the heroes standing together around the Tower's primary computer. Only four of the original six passengers from the Javelin now remained. Flash had been sent to the medical bay to make sure his digestive tract could handle breaking down a gelatinous super villain, and J'onn had excused himself without explanation.
By comparative standards, the emergency was a minor one. Apparently, a group of highly organized criminals had thought it wise to stage an assault against the Federal Reserve Bank of Dallas. The Rangers had done a good job of reminding them why it was foolish to agitate Texans with guns, but even their best efforts were not enough to force the criminals to surrender. Their subsequent plea for help that was now blinking insistently on the alert system had actually been piggybacked to the Watchtower. The original call had been sent to the United States National Guard, proving itself yet another tribute to Batman's remarkable and sometimes frightening networking capabilities. None of the heroes said it aloud, but they were all secretly relieved to hear that there were no metas or super villains involved in the incident. It was the first minor emergency the League had received in three days.
"So" Hawkgirl said, looking at the others. "Who do we send?"
This routine was a familiar one. The entire Justice League was rarely present for ninety-percent of the emergencies they received. They had learned early on it was not a good idea to leave the Watchtower unguarded. The mass riot which had included the recent encounter with Clayface had been one of the rare occasions they were all forced to lend a hand. Now that the situation was under control, it was business as usual.
"I'll take it" Superman offered, eager for some time alone. After the incident with the Mad Hatter he needed a few more hours on patrol to convince himself his night hadn't been wasted.
Wonder Woman turned to him. "I'll go with you."
He opened his mouth to object but quickly thought against it. It had been a hard battle getting himself to see the others as teammates rather than more people he needed to protect. He reminded himself it was safer to bring along a second person, even if the situation only appeared to be minor.
"You'll need someone at the computer" Lantern stated gruffly. Without waiting for confirmation, he turned his back and lifted himself off the ground, heading for the Tower's control deck two floors above.
------------------
Green Lantern had never been happy with the way the Justice League was set up. The democratic system that Superman habitually fell back upon was fine for girl scout troops and PTA meetings, but not for an organization burdened with protecting planet Earth. Being military material, both as a Marine and as a member of the Lantern Corps, Stewart believed in the necessity of a dictatorship. In terms of a team, individuality was a poison. It ate away at the backbone holding everything together, leading to disorder and ultimately failure. It was no coincidence that one of the League's enemies, namely Grodd, had already tried to exploit that weakness. Like Lantern, the villainous primate had recognized how easily that issue could change from an annoying problem to a debilitating one.
What Grodd hadn't been counting on, however, was that the League would swallow their overabundant pride and learn from their defeat. It had been a sobering experience for all of them. For the first time they'd seen clearly and painfully the weaknesses that were smoldering beneath their surface, and for the first time, they'd been given a powerful incentive to change.
The hero business was one that tended to breed contempt for the redeeming qualities of humankind. It encouraged mistrust and solitude. It forbade love and, sometimes, emotion. And it carried heavy punishments for those that attempted to cheat the system. In that light, it had been a difficult task training the seven heroes to be a team. Due to his military experience, Lantern had been the natural choice as leader of the project, and even he'd had a hell of a time pulling it off.
Before joining the League, each of the heroes had begun as an army unto themselves. Superman had his city, Wonder Woman had her island; hell, J'onn had a whole damn planet. Working as a team took all of that away. It meant they had to suck it up and deal with second opinions. They had to hear their own self-doubt voiced by their companions. They had to learn to put their egos second and make sacrifices for the good of the whole. But most importantly of all, they had to be able to rush into battle with a curt "Cover me!" and never feel the need to look back and make sure someone was doing it. They had to learn the value of true trust.
Until recently, Lantern would not have been willing to stake a life on the Justice League's trust in one another. Though heroes, they were still fallible, and they'd had their fair share of petty arguments, mistakes, and drama. Now, however, he was sensing that the atmosphere was changing. The Justice League wasn't simply a phrase as it had been for so long--some whimsical idea made in a land of "wouldn't it be nice...." Nor was it about individual heroes saving the world, fighting side by side through some coincidence. It had become something greater than all of them had ever intended. It was something each and every one of them was willing to die to protect. In that aspect, they were all the same, and for the first time in his normally skeptical life, Lantern felt theirs was a trust that would never be broken. The Justice League was a thing; a real, tangible force. And it was sure as hell one to be reckoned with.
Or, at least, it was when Batman wasn't holding them back.
With a few hours of mind-numbing monitoring duty in his system, Lantern had cooled off some from the exchange of words in New York--though it didn't mean his opinion had changed in the slightest. He didn't understand why the others couldn't see what was happening to them. As always, Batman's indifference was causing the entire team to suffer. For weeks it had been obvious that there was something amiss with his city, his responsibility. While Gotham's crime rates had bottomed to an unprecedented low, crime in the surrounding areas was up nearly thirty percent. The criminals were literally fleeing, choosing instead to wreak mayhem in other parts of Jersey and New York than haunt their hometown. Most of the chaos taking place was relatively minor compared to, say, the Joker planting twenty-five bombs around Las Vegas, but the Justice League was forced to handle them all the same. Things had stopped being about quality a long time ago. Now it was strictly about quantity.
Of course, the argument earlier had not been the first dealing with the Dark Knight--Lantern had made sureof that. Batman's name had surfaced a handful of times before in different situations, usually accompanied by an expletive or two. But no matter how many good points against him there were to be made, there had always been at least one person to defend his behavior, and this time was no different. Though Lantern had argued more than once that the League should enter Gotham and kill the problem at its source, his opinion had been met with stern resistance, most notably from Superman. How anyone could defend Batman still escaped him. He could never respect someone that pulled shit like this.
"How's it going?"
Lantern's rather productive session of brooding was suddenly interrupted by a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned to give Hawkgirl a quick look of acknowledgment. "You mean other than the fact that I hate computers?"
"Yes. Unless you're going to tell me you forgot what you volunteered for."
He ignored her tone. He wasn't much in the mood to joke. "Quiet, for once. Superman and Wonder Woman took care of the bank situation in record time. They split off after that." He tilted his head towards the right, indicating an area in the upper right-hand corner of the security control board that showed the status and global position of the League communicators.
Contained within a specially shaded box were seven bars, each accompanied by two lights--one green and one orange. Three orange lights were lit on the console. J'onn, Flash, and Hawkgirl had their communicators on standby, powered but not transmitting. Three lights separate from those were illuminated green. Superman, Wonder Woman, and, of course, Lantern all had their communicators on and fully active. The yellow bars to the right of each one indicated the strength of their respective signals. The final box was completely dark.
"Superman's in Europe, taking care of a few minor calls that came in" Lantern continued. "Wonder Woman's out in California, here." He pointed to a green, glowing dot moving slowly along a radar screen above the communicator panel. "They're both on their way back."
Satisfied with the report, Hawkgirl settled herself into a nearby chair. Her wings rustled softly as they folded into a neat cross behind her back. "Still busy, I see."
"More so than usual, though that's to be expected."
Hawkgirl did not take the bait on Lantern's obvious invitation to argue. She knew what was bothering him. There was no need to go over it again.
Her eyes lifted from the small, green-tinted radar screen to the rest of the computer. Bent in an "L" shape that followed the curvature of the floor, the Global Security System, or GSS, was responsible for monitoring all activity on the planet Earth. The readouts displayed upon its impressive collection of over twenty screens were taken from all areas of the world. It had direct links to numerous satellite feeds which included those belonging to the United States Central Intelligence Agency and the UN Headquarters in New York. With access to the Internet and television, it was, in essence, a technological arsenal of data that many governments would have envied. In an emergency, the GSS could also serve as a temporary override for the Watchtower's propulsion and defense systems, even though the main computers for those were located on another level.
All in all, it was an impressive piece of machinery that required very little attention. The system was almost completely self-sufficient. Every few seconds it would automatically update itself, displaying the readouts across its numerous screens. Barring any emergencies its intelligence programming recognized, the data would be recorded and then compressed for long-term storage. If a threat was detected in the process, the system would automatically alert the League on their communicators. Unfortunately, it would send them everything, from minor floods to mass-scale riots. When possible it was easier to have a person at the controls who could sift through the emergencies and prioritize them accordingly. For now, that was Lantern's job.
Stewart's eyes flicked to the left. A weather update was flashing insistently for an acknowledgment of a tornado warning. He touched the screen to make it stop. "How's Flash?"
He knew Hawkgirl had been helping the speedster in the medical bay. He had been watching them on the video feeds on the upper half of the computer.
"He's fine" came the casual reply, accompanied by a casual wave of the hand. "Give him some caffeine and sugar and he'll bounce back."
"Don't knock it, Wings. It's the best cure there is."
Both heroes turned to see Flash standing at the end of the platform. At the sight of the latte in his hands, the two couldn't help but share an amused look. Flash didn't notice.
"Anything exciting happen up here?" he asked.
"Not really." Lantern went through his explanation of the past few hours again, trimming it down at the edges to hold Flash's limited attention.
The speedster listened in between the eternity it took for the twenty monitors before him to change pictures. Halfway through the abridged recap, he stepped forward towards the computer, his attention piqued by something he saw. "Hey, what's up with J'onn?"
Lantern stopped talking and followed his gaze. One of the monitors on the top row had switched to a view of level 5, the observation deck. It was, by far, one of the simplest rooms in the Tower. Located at the very top of the space station, it was a bare, perfectly circular room with a glass window making up the wall. J'onn was standing on the left half of the small room, his face five inches from the glass, just looking out into nothing.
"He looks all spacey" the speedster observed, wiggling the fingers on his free hand for emphasis. His expression turned concerned. Flash tended to have a childish air about him that permeated into every aspect of his personality. His pure, innocent habit of following his feelings was one of the reasons he often served as the Justice League's conscience. "You know, come to think of it, I saw him go down earlier when we were fighting the human Play-Doh factory. You think he got hit? He seemed okay after, but...maybe someone should check on him."
Hawkgirl didn't miss a beat. "No. Leave him alone. If he's up there by himself, then he obviously wants some privacy." She smirked, "Besides, if we were going to send someone, it wouldn't be you."
Flash widened his eyes at her suggestively. "Maybe it's not me he's trying to stay away from."
------------------
Voices...a presence near him...something old, familiar...feelings that weren't his own...an explosion of power...hate, rage, sorrow....
....Nothing....
J'onn took a deep breath, trying to quell the uneasiness within him. The images were still fresh in his memory, fragments of a puzzle he couldn't even begin to solve. They almost seemed to be burned into his mind, permanently etched somehow onto the very strands of his consciousness.
He was afraid.
As he stood now, secluded in the Justice League Watchtower, he knew he was a danger to his teammates. The others didn't know, but the vicious assault in the subway had put them all at a terrible risk. He had been paralyzed, beyond able to control his own powers. If they had accidentally gotten in his way...he didn't want to think what could have happened.
Every second that went by held the potential for another episode, and J'onn knew that, next time, things might not turn out as well. Instead of a light case of nausea and a splitting migraine, he could open his eyes to find the others dead, and someone like Morgaine LeFey smiling down at him, victorious. He would rather die a thousand deaths than let that ever happenagain. But what could he do?
He had tried meditating, meticulously combing through every level of his consciousness, literally turning himself inside out. The exercises involved had been probes. They allowed him to peer into his own consciousness and check for anything unusual, much like examining a wound. What he had found was astonishing.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There was no trace that his barrier had been breached. No damage to himself internally or externally. Not even a hint that anything was awry. He knew he hadn't imagined it. The images he had seen were still in his memory, and the headaches had picked up again, though now they seemed more subdued. Living with his abilities in this naive world had taught J'onn to recognize his own thoughts well, and he knew that the sensations, the feelings, whatever he had been sent, were not his own. In and of itself, such a phenomenon was not uncommon. After all, he was more than accustomed to "hearing" what those around him were thinking. It was the fact that he had actually felt these...thoughts that had him so alarmed.
J'onn was...stunned. He had never felt a will forced on him like this before. Because of their protective barriers, Martians were incapable of mentally communicating with one another unless their minds were connected, their shields entwined in bonds of love or friendship. Even then, since the bond--and therefore the trust--between the two individuals was mutual, no force was required in speaking. The two minds were simply one. What one knew, the other knew and vice versa.
But this...was this what those around him experienced when he spoke with them telepathically? Was this what his powers did to the delicate human psyche? The colors? The pain?
Not for the first time, his thoughts fell back to an earlier point in his life, when he had first arrived on Earth and discovered his ability to penetrate the minds of those around him without a second thought. He remembered how he had battled with himself for days, trying to stop the terrible intrusion that was considered an atrocious crime to his people. He had been on a mission then, to warn the humans of the impending alien invasion that had claimed his people, his planet. But even as he had been captured and imprisoned, J'onn had struggled to harness his powers, refusing to encroach upon the humans' vulnerable minds. It was only when he realized his captors would not listen to his warnings that he was forced to overstep his morals and establish telepathic contact. The moment he had made the decision to contact Superman, J'onn remembered he had promised himself his transgressions would only be temporary.
Apparently, he had lost sight of that vow somewhere along the way.
He rubbed his fingers against his right temple, forcing down an acrid stab of guilt. He was exhausted. His psychic abilities had been needed more than usual as of late, and he'd had very little opportunities to recuperate. One side of him wondered if that was the explanation. Could he have taxed his powers to such a limit that they were trying to force him to rest?
It sounded good, but J'onn couldn't make himself believe it. There had been something conscious about what had happened. He could feel it stirring insistently at the back of his mind. Deep within, he couldn't help but think he had experienced something like this before, somewhere.
Furrowing his nearly-invisible brows, J'onn mustered up as much concentration as he could and tried to remember....
------------------
The sun beat down mercilessly upon the surface of Mars, catching several crystals of sand in its light. The landscape it illuminated, like most of the planet, was little more than desert. Red sand dunes patched with rocks rose and fell against the horizon like gentle waves. Scraps of vegetation peeked up intermittently from beneath the ocean of silt. At one time, this vast plane located a few miles outside the Martian city of Dra'aineshad been used as a place for festivals and tournaments. After the war had started, it was used to train soldiers. Now, it was home to the executioner of the Martian race: the Imperium.
A lone figure emerged from the mouth of an enormous, dank tunnel, choking and coughing as he blindly staggered away from the entrance. His green skin glimmered in the newfound light beneath a thick coat of sweat. Dirt and black soot caked every inch of his body not already claimed by the perspiration. With a strangled croak, J'onn J'onzz brought a hand up to the left side of his face and yanked off the mask protecting him from the fumes. His eyes snapped backwards towards the tunnel, the heat of battle still in them. It took several minutes for him to remember that the enemy could not retaliate. He had checked the nest himself. For the next week, the only thing emerging from the underground fortress would be pounds upon pounds of brown smoke as the nerve gas found its way to the surface.
The Imperium's nest had been more heavily fortified than anyone was expecting. Originally, J'onn and his small assault team had planned to reach at least the fourth level of the expansive stronghold before releasing the agent. Though the Martian weapon specialists had taken great care in concocting the nerve gas to be as potent as possible, no one knew how deep the caverns went. They hadn't wanted to risk springing the ambush too close to the surface. If the poison did not reach the Imperium, the enemy attack scheduled for tonight would commence as planned. An army of over one thousand drones would storm Dra'aines and the 300 survivors there would be eradicated in battle, finally wiping the last of the entire Martian civilization out of existence.
J'onn's family would die with them.
Not surprisingly, the desperate mission had almost failed. Swamped with alien drones before even making it to level two, the desperate team had been forced to unleash the gas just fifty yards into the tunnels. Seven soldiers had died before the first bomb was ever thrown. The rest fell at varying points in the skirmish. Looking back, it was a wonder they had emerged victorious at all. Even J'onn, the leader of the assault, had been skeptical until he'd traveled the tunnels and seen the damage for himself. Miraculously, all the drones in the hive were hopelessly paralyzed, frozen solid within their own sanctuary. The team had even gotten the Imperium, and all it had cost them were twelve lives.
A tangible spasm of pain cut through J'onn's heart at the thought of all the brave Martians who lay dead in the tunnels just beneath him. His hand clenched angrily at his side. For all the lives those monsters had taken, it didn't seem right that theyshould still live in defeat where all of his fellows had died in victory. But, of course, he knew there was no other way. The invaders were almost impossible to kill, and his small infantry never would have been able to fight their way to the Imperium on foot.
With a sigh, he brought his eyes up from the ground and pushed the dead out of his thoughts. They had known the mission's dangers before they started, and they had certainly known the risks. Their memories were to be celebrated, not grieved over. After all, they had done it. The war was over! The mission had been desperate, crazy, and almost certainly suicidal, but it had succeeded!
They were free.
J'onn felt a new, vibrant strength rush into his tired body at the sound of that beautiful word. It was as if a weight was suddenly lifted from him, one he hadn't even known he was bearing on his shoulders. The landscape around him literally seemed to transform before his very eyes. He saw everything as he had never seen it before. The feint silhouette of Oenihsis, the smallest moon of Mars, sat ghosted in the blue canopy that made up the beautiful sky. Along the horizon to the north, a line of pointed crags reached up towards the clouds like outstretched fingers. The destruction of war had sawed off the tops of the stone formations, flattening the sharp peaks that would have otherwise made up their claws. Those were the claws of the enemy, broken, smashed, and filed down to nothing so they could never draw Martian blood again. Through nearly a thousand years of trial and hardship, a victor in the gruesome war had finally emerged, winning by a margin of a mere city.
J'onn's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a blade of pain sliced through his consciousness. He gasped in surprise and staggered on his feet. Within seconds, a void began to open within him, numbing his insides with a foreboding darkness. There was a subtle signature to it, like a scent that he instantly recognized. It was his lifemate, M'yri'ah...she was trying to reach to him along the psychic thread that bound them together. Except something was wrong, he couldn't reach back.
His eyes shifted instinctively to the west where he knew Dra'aineslay just over the horizon. A sinister black cloud was hanging unnaturally over the city in the otherwise bright afternoon sky. It shouldn't have made him nervous--in the wake of the invasion, several similar blemishes now covered the once-beautiful skies of Mars--but this time J'onn knew something was not right. He knew because M'yri'ah knew.
His mind telescoped backwards in time, calling forth a single memory from the tide of panic slowly rising within his blood. He was standing again on the crushed debris of what had once been a house, looking down into Dra'aines main square, directly into the ashen faces of his fellow Martians as they waited for him to begin speaking. He remembered picking his family out of the crowd--Myria and their two sons--catching their smiles, drawing strength from them. He had not told them the words of the dying messenger from last night, the one that had dragged himself into to the city with a fatal wound to deliver his urgent words. This would be the first time any living soul heard the news. J'onn had spent all night coming up with an appropriate beginning:
"We have allowed ourselves to fall into a dangerous state of delusion...."
For months, the desperate 300 souls before him had kept the invaders from claiming Dra'aines battle after battle. They had thought it was because their skills of war were improving. In reality, it was because the Imperium was saving them, holding them prisoner within their own city while its minions roamed the planet unchallenged and destroyed the last remaining pockets of life. With the task completed, the Imperium was finally ready to deliver the killing blow. Three brave Martians had died trying to bring the generals the specifics. Only one had arrived alive.
In two days' time, the Imperium would unleash an attack of monstrous proportions on Dra'aines, the final obstacle in its long, decimated road to victory. The assault would come at night when the invaders' nocturnal vision was of most use to them. An army of over two thousand drones would surround the city on two sides, and then crush it between them in a mandible maneuver. Once past the defenses, they would ravage the streets like a dreadful plague, killing and destroying anything in their path. Furious with the unexpected resistance the Martians had put up, the Imperium had ordered that not a single life was to be spared.
J'onn remembered looking down into those lifeless faces as they heard the news and seeing nothing but blank, empty stares. It was as if all the emotion had been drained from their hearts. They knew no fear or pain or happiness or sorrow. All they knew was that one day, the invaders would come for them, and they would die as the rest of their race had died: alone and forgotten.
The generals, who were really nothing more than a collection of fighters that had managed to last more than two years in battle, knew they would never survive such an attack. The numbers stacked against them would be nearly seven to one. It had taken them the full two days to formulate a battle strategy, and even then it was so desperate no one really expected it to work. That was one of the reasons J'onn's assault team had been so small. The generals wanted as many lives as they could defending the city.
J'onn suddenly realized he was running. His eyes remained frozen hypnotically on that single spot in the sky. Something about this was not right...had never been right. Those clouds were not supposed to be there.
His mind felt sluggish and heavy, as if it was wading through mud. Something was stopping M'yri'ah from reaching him. She was trying to show him...what? The imperative message hovered just at the edge of his consciousness, but J'onn couldn't seem to grasp it. All the while he ran, eyes locked on those shadowing clouds as if they themselves held the answer he was missing. Then, in mid-stride, the thought broke through with the desperate force of a dying breath.
The Imperium had planned it all.
No Martian spy had ever infiltrated the Imperium's forces...ever, and now that the final battle was at hand, and the very fate of Mars hung in the balance, three managed to do it? It was too convenient.
If there was one thing the Imperium had proven in all its years of combat and slaughter, it was that it was a cunning and crafty being. J'onn's guerrilla strike against it had depended on the fact that, in preparing for an assault, the drones would all be in one collective place, making them easy to destroy. Now, he understood that the Imperium had reached the very same conclusion.
It knew Dra'aineswas the last obstacle in its way, but it also knew that, were even a handful of Martians to escape, the resistance would linger on. Its only hope for complete conquest was to kill the last members all in one shot. In order to do that, it would need an event that would bring them all together...an event like a battle. So it allowed three Martian spies to penetrate its forces, a feat that had never before happened in the entire course of the war. It fed them the information it wanted its enemies to hear, and then it waited for the news to reach them. With the Martians fully expecting an assault, they'd gather themselves together in their city to prepare. The last few rebels the Imperium had been unable to draw out on its own would flock to the city to assist. It would make them much easier to destroy...especially if the attack came early....
"No!"
J'onn's legs felt like gelatin as he forced them into a breakneck run. His breath pounded heavily in his lungs. The landscape barely registered in his mind as he dashed across the seemingly endless stretch of sand dividing him from his destination. He could feel his powers already extended far ahead of him, reaching to their limit, but he had lost Myria's touch.
The void continued to grow.
It took an eternity for the familiar skyline of Dra'ainesto come into view. When it did, J'onn wished he had never seen it. Small fires burning among the buildings cast a gentle glow around the city. Putrid smoke drifted up lazily from their centers to join the enormous cloud hovering overhead, shadowing the mangled streets below. As he grew nearer he could see bodies littering the streets; several boasted the pale-white skin of the alien invaders, hundreds more were that of Martians. He was finally close enough to see that most of the buildings were little more than ashes. The fires had been burning for hours, at least.
"NO! M'YRI'AH!"
J'onn reached the outer wall and began weaving his familiar way among the burning wreckage, calling her name. It was so rare for an entire family to survive the wars. He couldn't lose them now! Not when they had won!
"M'YRI'AH!"
The Imperium's plan had been genius, and it had worked, except that it never expected the Martians to strike first. It had no way of knowing its trap would fail to catch a small group of rebels dispatched in the dark hours of the morning to take the fight to the nest.
"Please no."
His pace began to slow. J'onn's powers stretched out all around him, desperately seeking the three psychic strands that were anchored to his very soul. His family was alive somewhere, he just knew it. They had probably taken cover in one of the buildings. He would find them. They would hear him calling and rush to him with shouts of joy, and he would scoop them up in his arms and tell them they were his sun and moon...his universe...his stars....
He turned a corner, taking in the sight of bodies mixed with the smell of smoke, and then the connection clicked.
A sudden, horrified scream echoed in the darkness...his scream.
M'yri'ah hadn't been trying to contact him. She couldn't have been. She was dying.
His senses had tried to warn him, but by the time J'onn got there, they were gone. The psychic bonds that joined them together hung before his sightless eyes like severed limbs. He could feel the three chasms in his soul, gouged out from his being with the violent, untimely removal of his loved ones' links; three places where there should have been life, yet there was nothing. Just an endless, desolate nothing.
The will to exist drained from his body in a single, cruel stroke. Amidst a rotting skeleton of a once great city, J'onn saw himself fall to the ground on his knees and just shriek to the heavens....
The sound changed. Grief became pain. He was standing before the Imperium again, looking deep into that gelatinous mass and hearing its sickening words slither about in his head. The Justice League was in trouble, they needed his help, but he had to stay focused if he wanted to save them. It was the only way.
What are you hiding?!
A tentacle shot out and wrapped around his neck. It could have easily tightened, suffocating him to death, but that is not what the Imperium wanted. Instead, it dug its barbs into his skin and made its way up towards his skull. It wanted him to suffer. It wanted to penetrate his psychic shield and tear him apart both from the inside and out. He could feel its sinister will trying hard to rip his very mind asunder, scattering everything that he once was and would ever be. He squirmed and writhed against its grip, fighting, but the thing merely laughed and drew him closer. He felt himself pulled inside it.
He was standing in an alley. At his back, the bright marquee of a theater lit the grimy streets beneath his feet. The Imperium was now a shapeless demon wearing a black trench coat that surrounded its form, writhing like a living thing on its back. Terror filled the air like fog. The demon raised its hand with a high-pitched laugh and then fired a bullet from its gleaming fingertips. J'onn staggered back with a cry as the shot penetrated his heart. Crimson rose petals dripped from the wound, and somewhere in the silence that followed, a string of pearls fell in the darkness.
------------------
"Is there something wrong with J'onn?" Wonder Woman muttered.
Flash shrugged, remembering that a few hours ago he had stood in that same spot and asked the same question. "He's been up there all night. We think he's sleeping...or dreaming...or, you know, whatever it is he does."
The Amazon seemed worried at this. Her eyes came down for a moment.
"I already told him we're leaving" Flash said in an attempt to guess what she was thinking. "Woke him up, I think, but he knows."
"Did he say anything?"
"Nope. Should he have?"
Diana's eyes came away from the computer. "No. Are we ready?"
"You bet. I can't wait to get outta here."
The second half of the night had been much more calm than the first. With only a handful of incidents to take care of, the entire League had been able to return to the Tower early and take care of some much-needed cleaning. There were half-finished database and security checks that needed to be completed, as well as a massive system upgrade they had been putting off for a while. Now, with the approach of morning, it was finally time for them to leave.
During the day most of the League members had other places to be. Unless there was a severe emergency that absolutely could not wait, they usually only occupied the Tower at night, from around 7pm to 6am, usually. To work around their schedules they were each given shifts so one person would not be on watch for more than three nights in a row. Depending on the crime season they would also alter the number of people handling the Watchtower at a time. Usually it was two. Of course, if anyone was particularly bored or couldn't sleep, they were always welcome, and it was not unusual to have one or two extra people show up randomly out of lack of anything better to do. When their shifts were over, they gathered together down in the loading dock to make the journey back to Earth. Flash had once referred to it as the "League carpool service." Though he had been joking at the time, the term was more or less correct. It was to this "carpool" that he and Wonder Woman now walked.
For the second time that night, the loading dock opened before them like an enormous cavern hidden in the smallest of caves. The others were already there, standing in a group more towards the middle. The atmosphere had improved little. Even as Diana approached she could see that there was not much talking going on. On one level, she was surprised. She had been expecting to encounter apprehension and tension after the semi-argument that had taken place earlier. Instead, there was neither. For the most part, everyone was just tired. She could tell that the others were worn and eager to leave the Watchtower. It almost made her feel guilty for having to bring up...."Batman."
It was amazing. Even when he wasn't present, Batman was able to inject discord into the Justice League. Green Lantern's expression soured almost instantly. Superman's more or less followed suit. Diana did not let it discourage her, even as a charged silence settled over the team. She was determined to talk about this now.
"Look" Flash whined. "We're ten seconds from going home. Couldn't we talk about this later?"
She turned to him, her eyes and tone firm. "And how long do you propose we wait?"
"Here's an idea: Why don't we just kick Creeps out and be done with it?"
"Can we do that?" Hawkgirl asked. "Technically, he's not even a member in the first place."
Green Lantern gave a snort. "Which was probably his intention all along. No responsibility attached except when he wants it to be."
"That's not important" Diana interrupted. "The circumstances are what they are. What isimportant is that this isn't normal, even for him." Her eyes turned pleadingly to Superman. The message in them was clear: Help me.
Superman gave a tired sigh. He hated this. Being closer to Batman than anyone else, everyone always turned to him for insight into the man's character. They didn't realize how little he knew. Most of it wasn't even by choice. Bruce wasn't exactly the type of person he'd choose to be friends with. "I can't speak for him" he said carefully.
"Then don't" Lantern muttered.
Superman ignored him, though his eyes turned icy for a fraction of a second. "But I do believe that, if he really needed it, he would ask for our help." He wished he was as sure of himself as he sounded.
"Great!" Flash finished. "Let's go."
More than content to end the conversation there, the others moved away, leaving Superman and Diana standing alone for a few seconds. He looked to her, but her eyes were focused ahead, watching the others. "Are you really that worried about him?" he asked.
"No. I'm worried that no one else is worried."
------------------
It was well known that Batman was not the best of team players. If there was such thing as a super hero report card, his would have read: moody, uncommunicative, difficult, and above all else, does not play well with others. The other members of the Justice League tended to find him frustrating, for good reason. He only worked on his schedule. He would appear in the Watchtower when he felt like it and expect everyone to work around him. His help had proved invaluable on several occasions, but only Batman decided where and when he would offer it. He constantly remained in the shadows, never sticking his neck out too far, and when one of the others did, he was ready with his usual biting criticisms. And all the while he refused to become a full member of the team, to commit like the rest of them had. It was merely one last insult to those who felt they pulled their fair share. But Batman wasn't like the rest of them, in more ways than one.
It was never brought up, no one ever talked about it, but the fact remained that he was a human amongst giants. With the way the man carried himself, the League tended to forget. They tended to forget that his body couldn't take boom tubes and spatial travel. They tended to forget that he couldn't deflect bullets; that, for him, one shot is all it would take to end his life. They tended to forget that, at times, it was probably a fight just to keep up. The feats that were so natural to the rest of them--flight, speed, strength--he had to somehow match without making it look like it was a struggle. Sometimes, even then, when it came down to the final battle and the game was on the line, he still had to step aside, leaving the others to fight villains like Amazo alone.
Though he never showed it, Diana knew it must have frustrated him...deeply.
The others were angry that Batman continually brushed them off, discarding them as pompously as he tended to discard everyone. But maybe he did it because, deep down, he knew he couldn't keep it up forever. Maybe just as he knew the weaknesses of others, he knew the weaknesses of himself as well. And maybe it was much easier to stay an integral player on the team when he didn't have to run with the giants every single night.
Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed in thought as she flew through the crisp morning sky. The cities of Man passed briskly beneath her, barely registering as she wrestled with the issue on her mind.
A stalemate. That's what this had become. No one had ever had to worry about Batman before. Though he had his fair share of faults, he was also dependable, levelheaded, and one of the few people that brought no personal history to the Justice League's table. In many ways, he served as the backbone of the organization when pieces of it failed. Now that he had withdrawn himself so suddenly and mysteriously, no one knew how to deal with him.
The League knew Batman's attitude towards others butting into his affairs. He was fiercely territorial of his city, and had made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn't like to be bothered personally, either. Not surprisingly, no one was all too eager to approach him. In turn, the League, having good reason to be frustrated with Batman and his attitude, found it easy to write off his behavior as one of his usual eccentricities. And so the state was left, as Wonder Woman saw it, to fester in an unchanging cycle. With her latest failed attempt to stir the others into action, it had become clear to her that if someone didn't do something about it, the stalemate was never going to end.
Spotting her destination emerging in the distance, the Amazon began to slowly lower her altitude and speed.
He'd made a mistake asking her to dance that night. Was he expecting her not to notice? Not to recognize someone that she frequently entrusted her life to? He had assumed his tricks that fooled everyone else would be good enough to fool her--different clothes, a different face, a different voice--but Diana saw through it easily. She had touched Batman. She had smelled him. She had heard him when he was worried and angry, and she had met him that night at the party. But when she confronted him, all she had to offer was a powerful hunch. Batman didn't respect hunches, and so he had brushed her aside, playing on her doubt, however minuscule it may have been.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Fine. Then she'd do this another way.
She hadn't meant to see it. It was only by chance that she had been nearby, and even more by chance that she had managed to appear at that exact moment. The League had been in Metropolis. They had just defeated one of their numerous foes, and were caught in the few precious seconds of bliss after a victory; before they remembered all the damage that had been done, and all the lives they had failed to save....
....The rain was falling heavily. Now that the crisis was over it had decided it could finally begin to pour in steady sheets. As always, Batman was separated from the others by quite some distance, occupying his normal place in the shadows. Wonder Woman didn't see him at first. His dark cape and cowl blended almost perfectly with the liquid-like night around him. Then, in the darkness, she caught sight of a moving form and moved towards it. When she grew closer, however, she noticed with some curiosity that he was not alone....
Lois Lane stepped forward tentatively, eyeing the man she knew so well and yet didn't know at all. The dark figure acknowledged her presence with a barely noticeable inclination of his head. To her, the movement was cold and unflattering. She had no way of knowing that Batman rarely took the time to acknowledge anyone.
"Ms. Lane."
The voice was his and yet not. It seemed as if he had taken a strainer and removed all the humanity from it. There was no hint of compassion, of life, of love or hate. There may as well have been a machine standing there.
"I wanted to...thank you, for saving me." Her voice sounded so quiet against the gentle patter of the rain. She gave a weak smile and looked away. "I'd like to say falling off of buildings isn't a normal thing for me. Too bad I'd be lying."
The humor seemed to chip away at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flash across the face her mind could construct beneath the mask. It was only for a second, but she clung to that single display of emotion like a life vest in a storm. It was the only proof she had that there was even a person under there.
"You're welcome" he answered, again, automatically.
"I bet you get thank-you's a lot that don't mean anything."
That caused him to pause. When he spoke his voice was softer, more human. "People are always grateful for a second chance."
Lois' eyes drew upwards to his, feeling an almost physical pain as she did so. He had loved her once. And, yes, she had loved him. It had hurt more than anything she had ever felt to let him go, but she knew she wouldn't have been able to change him.
He had betrayed her.
He had let her stumble blindly onto a broken bridge that he knew was there, and had been to often enough to know it couldn't be crossed. He had been willing to watch her throw everything away, to stand by idle and silent while she committed her life and heart to a horrible lie. Maybe there were times when he had wanted to tell her, but the fact was: he hadn't. Intended or not, he had been willing to hurt her.
Lois felt her voice catch thickly in her throat. Bruce Wayne had made his choice, and so she had made hers. "Yeah....Too bad sometimes we don't get one."
The memory faded just as Wonder Woman passed over the outskirts of Metropolis. There was no more time for games. She needed straight answers, and there was only one other place she could think to get them.
I want to know if Hawkgirl has that nasty, acrid bird smell. Anyone who's held a parrot before knows what I'm talking about. That tart, oily scent that comes from their feathers? Her wings are, like, ten times the size of a normal bird. That would be so gross.
Oh yeah, and, does J'onn's naked Martian form freak anyone else out?
Fun Notes:
- I don't know if J'onn was really in command of the small force that took out the Imperium. The episode "Secret Origins" doesn't really make it clear, other than a semi-implied feeling that the mission was more of a community decision rather than being led by a clear, uh, leader. That said, it was too hard referring to it every single time as "the small task force" or "the community led small task force so as not to exclude or ostracize anyone." So, I just made it "J'onn's task force." See? Simple.
- I had no clue how to spell J'onn's wife's name. I searched around on Google a little and found how the DC comics spell it so I just used that.
Oh, and I made Dra'aines up. For anyone who cares, it's pronounced: dry-en-ess with a tongue roll or something Martian-sounding on the 'r.' ....I tried, okay!
Do you like my little random apostrophe? It's amazing...to make stuff look Martian, all you have to do is add a bunch of apostrophes. Isn't th'at c'o'o'l?
- No, I don't hate Batman. This is just a quick look at some of the other characters' frustrations.
Ending Thoughts:
I actually don't really like how a lot of this chapter came out. My proofreaders (thanks Neptune and Johnny!) had to talk me out of crashing a wrecking ball through several parts of this. In fact, the only reason they got to see it at all was because I was just sick of working on it. I think the main problem was that I had a lot of information to get across and not a lot of space to do it in. That and the new formatting restrictions on don't help much with its readability. Hopefully you guys were able to follow it ok.
And now, on to the next chapter! As I said, don't worry about this fic going unfinished. It won't, but in return I'll have to ask for some patience as I get the chapters written. Hopefully this one didn't disappoint! And remember: Don't be afraid to tell me what you think, good or bad!