Author's Note: A little longer chapter than expeced, as I sometimes do, but hopefully it won't ruin your reading experience. Cheers.

Brainiac's Skull Ship.

22,000 miles above the surface of the Earth.

"They are all against you, Bruce. What place do you have amongst men with power rings and murderers with golden lassos? Surely you, a mere human, are greater than any of them. You were there to keep them honest, but they turned on you. Robbed you of your one precious asset—your mind. You don't belong there. You're better than any of them ever were."

"You can try the psychology elsewhere, Luthor. I'm immune."

Alexander Luthor grins. "Of course, you would be. So I pose you this question, Mr. Wayne. Why did you stay on the League? Personal vindication perhaps—proving something to yourself?"

"Like you said," Batman retorts through clenched teeth. "I was there to keep them honest."

"But it didn't work…did it? Despite your presence—a human keeping stride among gods—they still took the law into their own hands. Single-handedly decided what to do with Dr. Light and sealed their fates forever. And they took advantage of you."

Batman's head bows wearily. Maybe…Luthor did have a point. Somewhere. Batman brings his head back up to stare into Alexander Luthor's piercing green eyes. Staring right back at the Dark Knight, with a gleam glazed across the surface. Confident. Assuring, if misleading.

"Come with me, Mister Wayne."

"What happened to strong-arming me into your service?"

"I've had one of my trademark changes of heart," Luthor replies with a smirk. "Help me defeat the Syndicate once and for all. Haven't you ever wanted to be part of something special? To participate in a system where your talents would be appreciated—welcomed?"

Batman's eyes narrow and his voice drops to a reserved grimness. "I was part of something special."

"Ah yes," Luthor replies. He begins pacing. "The World's Greatest Superheroes. Indeed. So many skeletons in so many closets, Mister Wayne. Wally West knew of his predecessor wiping the mind of the Top. Oliver Queen and Carter Hall couldn't get past their respective personal politics to save their hides. And Superman…the worst of them. He knew of Zatanna's crimes, and he did nothing."

"What are you babbling about?" Batman patronizes. "Why do you care about the League?"

"They represent, in this universe, the elements of the Syndicate. If they are not dealt with it will be civil war. Without end."

"How so?" Batman asks narrowly.

"Let your League continue their barbaric practices," Luthor says sharply, "and they will establish total dominion over your Earth. They will become dictators and you won't be able to stop it. But since you seem unwilling to stop them, you'll be forced into helping me."

Luthor grimaces and raises a leg. A second later, an armored leg slams into Batman's chin. The Dark Knight falls to the ground with a thud and wipes the blood streaming from the corner of his mouth. Luthor inhales slowly and releases it. When he speaks again his voice is suddenly calm—almost regretful.

"I was once like your Luthor. Idealistic, full of energy and ready to exert it over the sphere of my influence. In every world and every time, Mister Wayne, there is a point of divergence from the status quo. Said point in my world came when the Syndicate—after years of clandestine planning and clemency under the government of the time—made their move. They swept into the capital, murdered the Congress and set themselves up as 'interim governors.' Twenty years later, the public's grown accustomed to their iron fist.

"Except for the occasional strike," Batman intimates.

"Whatever I threw at them, they threw right back." Luthor quiets himself and stares at the floor. The already-dim light in the Skull Ships main chamber surrounded Alexander Luthor in shadows that followed the outline of his armor. For all the strength he showed, Batman notes, Luthor looks unusually morose. The look on his face…the look of a man who's seen his dream crushed more times than he cares to know.

"And so I spent my life in pursuit of a means by which I might ultimately destroy the Syndicate. Each time I was met by failure. And I spent years avenging myself…to no end."

Silence.

Luthor closes his eyes and raises a hand to his temple, massaging what the Dark Knight posits is a headache.

"Then what happened?"

Luthor's eyes open and he turns to Batman with a quizzical look across his face. Three seconds later, Luthor's eyes narrow dubiously.

"Nice try," Luthor says grimly. He straightens his posture. "Within the hour, I shall be returning to my universe, and you will be accompanying me."

"What about this Earth's Luthor?"

Luthor smiles. "Funny you should ask, Mister Wayne. He's coming with us. Think of him as a sort of…collateral."

New York City.

Alan Scott.

Going to be a few minutes late to the JSA meeting. It's what I get for helping out a young couple with a blowout on the West Side highway. Indeed. As soon as I walk into the meeting, Courtney will probably harangue me about punctuality.

I decide to take it easy on myself for once and fly at street-level. When I get to Times Square, I raise my altitude a bit and flash a wave or three at the crowd. They seem to love it, and I do too. Honestly. In this business, after all, it takes some doing to get bad press.

That's part of the 'superhero' label, I suppose. Take care of yourself, be the role model that no one seems to care about anymore, and the rest falls into place. A little healthy optimism and vigor are what keep me doing this after all these years.

"Olllllldmaaaaaaannnnnn."

I stop in mid-air, and my eyes dance across the sky trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. This high up...if that was someone's voice, how did I hear it? I fly away from Times Square, down to an open space in Battery Park with little civilian presence. If this is what I think it is—

"AlanScottthefirstGreeeeenLantern."

"Who's there?" I enunciate.

"BeforrrrrreJordan."

"What do you want?"

Thunder explodes in my ears and sends me flying. I slam into the ground and hobble to one knee, massaging my neck painfully. My vision clears, and I see the source of the thunder standing a few feet away. Zoom, the Reverse-Flash. A man caught in an explosion that trapped him between timelines.

And he's holding a two-by-four in one arm.

"Zoom," I say expectantly. "How did you get free?"

More thunder in my ears, and I find myself on the ground again. With a headache.

"YouhavesomethingIneedAlanScott."

"I can't imagine what that would be."

He materializes in front of me, holding the two-by-four behind his shoulder like a baseball bat. His posture shifts, and he throws the board at me. And before the blunt end slams into my forehead, I think about the inconvenience of the wood impurity in my ring.

Themyscira.

The night air feels brisk. Promising. It's been a bit cool on the island these past few weeks As if something—a cold wind from the North—was creeping its way across the ocean to us. But the wind is warm tonight. A wind of change.

Then again, some things don't change.

Everyone dies. In a way, it's the one justice in the world. No matter what happens, you can't escape the hand of fate; it comes for everyone regardless of prowess, power or privilege. Hours ago the hand of fate came for Zatanna, personified in Dr. Psycho—an old enemy of mine. He killed her.

I barely had enough time to get her body out of Gotham before Superman returned from the Watchtower. I wanted to give her a proper burial before the League judged me for my actions.

Staring at Zatanna's headstone, I find myself repeating the word 'sorry.' It's just about all I can do. Behind me, a twig cracks on the ground. I cock my head half a degree, and the unmistakable scent of saltwater reaches me.

"She was a good soldier," the voice speaks. "She gave her life for us."

"You don't belong here, Arthur. Go back to San Diego…where you make a difference." I manage.

After a pause, the voice replies. "Everyone is looking for you, Diana."

"I know," I say quietly.

"They're scared. They want to take you in."

I turn away from the headstone and face Arthur. King of the Seas. One of the earthbound roots of the League, he keeps us in check.

"They want to crucify me," I say pointedly. "I'm not going back there just to have them tell me I'm wrong."

"I'm not taking sides, Diana. I just want you to know…I understand why you did it."

"Light was a monster, Arthur. And he had to be dealt with."

"I understand," Arthur says. His head sinks and his shoulders slump a bit. His orange chain-mail rustles with the movement of his frame. For the first time in a long time, Aquaman looks…vulnerable. "Look…you can either wait it out here and then face a whole new load of problems when they find you. Or you can come with me."

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me," Arthur says, "and I can take some of the heat off."

I give him a dubious look, to which he gives a simple "please" as a reply.

"Alright," I say after a pause.

"Zoom."

"Yesss?"

"Did you get the ring?"

"YessssNoah.Itwasnotdifficult."

"I suspected as much."

"Whatttdoyouintendtodowithit?"

"Give it to Adam. He's got the necessary traits to successfully operate it."

Alexander Luthor approaches the hangar in Brainiac's Skull Ship with a certain amount of quickness. He realizes that despite Krona's tampering with the rules of matter and anti-matter engagement, he has little time left in this universe. If he does not leave soon, the League will discover his presence, and send a team to destroy him.

Fortunately for Alexander Luthor, though, the League is too preoccupied with their own matters. Debating endlessly over whether or not they had the licensing to mindwipe some of their planet's perennial losers to consider threats going on outside their safe and comfortable Watchtower.

Luthor enters the hangar and taps his earpiece communicator.

"Brainiac. Are Batman and my doppelganger aboard my ship?"

"They have just been transported there. They await you in the cargo hold."

"The cargo hold?" Luthor asks quizzically. "You really are inhumane. And here I was thinking of giving them space enough to sleep."

"It would not behoove you or them, Alexander."

"Maybe so," Luthor replies idly.

Luthor reaches his ship, landed in the center of the hangar and presses a button on his belt. A hatch on the backside of the craft hisses and slides open, revealing a cargo hold with Batman and the positive-matter Lex Luthor bound and shackled, prone on the floor.

Alexander Luthor steps past his prisoners and speaks into his communicator again.
"Before I leave, Brainiac, I have some housekeeping details I wish to take care of."

"Such as?"

"I'm giving you the activation codes for the OMACs, which this Earth's Luthor provided after some…prodding. As soon as I have breached the dimensional barrier, run the codes through your computers and set the OMACs to autonomy."

"And what of the Society? They will come looking for their departed leader."

"They can try," Luthor responds. His fingers dance across the controls and the ship comes to life. On the other side of the ship's forward viewport, the hangar doors pull apart form each other, revealing the vastness of space. The ship lifts from the steel floor and propels itself into space, the silver orb of the Skull Ship fast becoming a dot in Luthor's rearview monitors.

A small screen on Luthor's control panel lights up. Luthor gives it a scrutinizing eye and sees a yellow sphere approaching the Skull Ship's ventral side.

"Image enhance. Forty percent."

The sphere becomes larger on the screen, and Luthor discerns figures standing inside its borders. Guided by the renegade Green Lantern Sinestro, a veritable army mills inside the sphere; a battalion of so-called villains with Deathstroke, the Amazo android, and Black Adam at its head. Luthor's eyebrow arches in curiosity. Foolish Society.

Ahead of the shuttle, a blue-and-white spiral opens in space. Luthor's eyes light up and he pilots his craft directly for it.

Continued...