Bruce wanted to blame Jason.
He did. He honestly did. It would be just so easy to blame his second son for this.
But, truth be told, this wasn't Jason's fault. Jason didn't ask to die God knows how many times. Jason didn't ask to be sent back in time. Jason didn't ask to be kidnapped. Jason didn't ask for any of that.
No, if anyone was to blame it was the Joker, for killing Jason. Or Bruce, for being completely unable to handle loss in a constructive and healthy manner (which should've been obvious from the get-go, seeing as his way of channeling his grief over his parents' deaths was to run around in a batsuit, beating up criminals every night). If it hadn't been for either of those things, he wouldn't be in this situation.
"Robin, no," he groaned, and fuck Batman's reputation, he'd just about had it with these past couple of weeks. "Neither you, nor your Young Justice teammates, are coming on this mission."
Tim, his beloved third son, stared back at him stonily. "Yes, we are."
"No, you're not. I forbid you."
"So?"
Bruce closed his eyes, and started counting to fifty. In Japanese. "I am your father. That means my word is law until you're eighteen."
"Then I guess I'll be a criminal in my own home."
"Knight would never forgive you if you or Batgirl went."
"Knight's not here right now, is he? In fact, it's because he's not here right now that we're in this situation to begin with."
"Robin—"
"You're letting Nightwing and the Titans go!"
"Because Nightwing's an adult and so are the Titans, all of whom by themselves have years of more experience than you and your team combined. Robin, this mission will be dangerous. Who knows how many villains are on Infinity Island right now? All of them will be aiming to kill, and there's no guarantee we'll be able to protect all of you if it comes to that."
"And we wouldn't expect you to, Batman! We're heroes too, remember?"
Yes, they were. They were heroes with their own team and their own missions, and, at the time, Bruce had thought that was okay. That they had proven themselves able to handle that, that they were smart enough to recognize when they were in over their head and to call in backup when they needed to. But this…this was too much. If it really was Savage, then a look at who he had been visiting made him want to lock up the kids in the Bat-Cave until all of this was over. The Joker was one thing, but at least the Joker didn't have superpowers or massive amounts of resources or both.
The worst of the worst were going to be there. Major villains from the rogues galleries of every major hero in the Justice League. From Circe to the Trickster, Orm to Bane (Bruce felt phantom pain tingle up his spine at the thought of that one) — it was not going to be pretty. He was already hesitant to bring Nightwing, only conceding because Dick was almost as good as he was. He didn't want to bring Tim and Cass in it as well, especially since the latter had only just started her vigilante career, no matter how naturally talented at combat she was. Jason wouldn't forgive them, nor would he forgive him. Bruce imagined the only reason he hadn't gotten a tongue lashing for bringing Cass on the rescue mission all those months ago is because of the guilt he had for killing Ra's.
There would be no such guilt for this mission.
"I know you're all heroes too. Which is why I'm saying no. Why we're all saying no. That's final, Robin."
The final word said, Bruce turned off the monitor. The last thing he saw was Tim's fuming face.
But of course, Tim is every bit his son as Dick and Jason were before him. When the JLA and JSA head to their hidden bay of backup Javelins beneath Civic City (there was one in every major city with a strong superhero presence), they were met by Young Justice. Plus Batgirl. And Stargirl. Who had also been banned from going on the mission.
In Impulse's hands were some very familiar fuel rods and wires.
Bruce felt a headache coming on.
"Fine," he barked to his children, "But you're grounded when we get home!"
Tim and Cass exchanged looks and then shrugged. Their teammates, not being Batman's children, cared even less, and instead laughed.
Infinity Island was a remote island located in the Indian Ocean. Small enough to be inconspicuous and yet large enough to support a large garrison of Ra's al Ghul's forces through slave labor, it had served as his enemy's main League outpost for centuries. At least, until Bruce blew the place up over a decade ago after facing off against Ra's during one of their first great confrontations. A person could say that it was here where their rivalry truly started, and only ended when one of Bruce's own sons did what he couldn't and finished the immortal off. While Bruce would always be uncomfortable with the fact that Jason killed Ra's, he wouldn't lie and say he wasn't glad the man was gone. After everything Ra's had done during that last battle, after learning everything that Ra's would go on to do in the future had he been left alive, when Bruce had taken his last look at the man's cooling corpse, he couldn't help but think 'Good riddance'.
That opinion held true even now. Knowing what they were about to get into, Bruce was very, very glad Ra's was dead. Jason and him had both been monitoring the League of Assassins very closely ever since the man's death, not wanting a repeat of the previous timeline, where they had let things be and it had devolved into a civil war that ended up catching Damian in the crossfire and killing him. Thankfully, things had not gone that way at all — apparently, Jason's speech had its intended effect, as the entire empire had collapsed practically overnight, with most of its members fleeing the organization like rats would a sinking ship. It helped that Talia, the presumed heir until Damian was of age (at least until Damian had been sent to Bruce with Jason and Cass) had washed her hands of it all as well. Last they had checked, she was currently sight-seeing in Europe, still healing from the torture at her deceased father's hands.
With the League of Assassins out of play, that eliminated at least some of the potential forces the villains could bring to the table. Chances are that the weaker and less wilier villains would be sent after them first to wear them down, perhaps separate a few of their forces away from the main one gradually until they were faced with the stronger ones, like Circe or Despero. Savage was smart like that — he's had fifty thousand years of experience to fall back on, after all, and it's not like they could do anything but a full-frontal assault. There were too many of them and the island was too small for them to hide out somewhere while a smaller ground team was sent to infiltrate. Knowing that caveman, there was both technological and magical sensors to detect them at a moment's notice, probably when they entered the island's airspace. The only option was to smash through the front door, and smash hard.
So that's what they did. The Javelins had managed to land onto the island unimpeded — which everyone knew was just the calm before the storm — and the fortress quickly located. It was a magnificent, elegant thing, in perfect accordance to the classical tastes of both Ra's al Ghul and Vandal Savage, who fancied themselves sophisticated men of a higher caliber than the common riff-raff. It was also heavily fortified and heavily guarded, and just like how Bruce predicted, the primary forces were third-rates like the Trickster and Crazy Quilt. A quick run from Superman took care of that quickly and then everyone with access to an energy attack fired at the gate, and yeah, any sense of anonymity they might have had was gone.
But contrary to the rest of Bruce's prediction, they weren't met by a staggered group of villains that would chip away at them. No, they had a free run to the main chamber, the throne room where a living Ra's al Ghul would have made his decrees like the King of the World he pretended himself to be. It made him feel uneasy. It made his children feel uneasy. And when they're uneasy, everyone was uneasy. He can sense it from everyone present as they charge through the corridors. The Flashes make it there first, followed by Superman and Alan Scott, and one punch from Clark shattered the wood into splinters.
Vandal Savage was waiting for them, lounging about on a throne where a small table had been propped up. He had a goblet of red wine (or, at least, Bruce hoped it was red wine) in one hand and a knife in the other. On the plate was some oddly-colored meat that Bruce doesn't dare to wonder about. He smirked at them all in a lazy fashion.
"Welcome!" He greeted them, setting the glass and the knife down and spreading his arms as if they were guests and not intruders. "We've been waiting for you!"
"Where are they, Savage!" Clark demanded, seething. Weapons had already been drawn, and they're held at the ready as every hero present prepares themselves for battle. Savage was far too composed, and the intel indicated that there was supposed to be an army here, and they hadn't encountered it. It's a trap, Bruce knows, but what kind of trap was it?
Savage shrugged, teeth bared. "Oh, here and there. Don't worry, they're alive — I've put too much work into this plot, planning my revenge, to get rid of them just yet."
"So this is about your imprisonment at their hands," Bruce intoned, the crowd parting to expose him as he walked forward, his cape wrapped around him like a shroud. "How long were you in that pocket dimension, Savage?"
The caveman licked his lips. "Thirty thousand years."
People flinch, which caused Savage to laugh. "Cruel, right? But unsurprising to anyone that knows of the Era 2 Justice League. They were always of a hardier sort, more ruthless than those who never made it past Era 1. Why, when I told them how long I was in there, they weren't sorry in the least. They said that I deserved it, after all the crimes I've committed." He tilted his head, his brow crinkling. "They might present themselves as victims, as saviors, but no mistake: they are not as kind as you believe them to be."
Swallows. Bruce felt doubt creeping in and quickly crushes it. Even if Savage was telling the truth, this wasn't the time to discuss it. Not when his son and his teammates weren't present to defend themselves, to present their side of the story. "Enough! Give them back, Savage, and we might just let you and the others go free."
Savage was still smiling. "Very well. If you can convince them to go with you, then you're free to go. But let me warn you: it'll be a much more difficult task than you think."
Before anyone could ask him to clarify, Savage clapped his hands. Bruce only had a moment to feel the tingle of magic, the sound of multiple pop!s, before he was gone.
Wally lands on his feet, and sees Bart and Jay do the same. He looks around. Where are we?
It's an arena, that much Wally can see. There's a huge track in it, pristine and unbeaten. Newly created, newly built. Unlike typical structures of this kind, however, it's much narrower. There's no excess space, no high ceilings — it's like an expanded hallway, really.
Wally doesn't like it.
They look and look and look and finally, they see. There's a man standing at the end, his back to them. Wally approaches him slowly, cautiously, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a red suit not unlike Wally's own, with goldenrod lightning decals around his waist and on his boots. There are mercury wings on the temples of his head, just like Wally. And when he turns around, Wally can see the white emblem of the Flash suit on his chest.
Unlike Wally, however, the man wears a blue visor over his eyes, its edges jagged and obscuring. However, the bottom of his face is still exposed, and Wally can see the darkness of his skin.
It's impossible, he would think, except over the past couple of weeks, Wally had learned that a great many of things were very much possible. So, he hesitantly steps forward, mindful of how Bart and Jay are behind him, staring too. "…Wallace?"
There isn't a so much as a twitch, but Wally just barely manages to see it anyway.
He dodges the resulting burst, but he's the only one. Bart and Jay are not so lucky, and they're thrown off their feet, landing harshly on their backs with audible groans. Dust is still kicking up as they try to get back to their feet, while Wally turns around and stares. When they managed to land their gazes on Wallace again, they stare too.
Scarlet lightning crackles around Wallace's adult form, and a horrible feeling pits itself in Wally's gut. But before he can dwell on it, Wallace snaps his fingers, and a sonic boom erupts, and there's no more time to think at all.
The arena J'onn is placed in is more standard. It's proportional in length, more like a circle than an oval, and it has high ceilings. Magnificently high ceilings, in fact. The temperature is cool, which J'onn is grateful for. He doesn't mind warm temperatures, but the hotter it becomes the more likely something is to catch fire. J'onn does not like fire.
He floats and observes and then he sees her. A woman he does not recognize. He approaches her calmly, quietly, and stills when she floats up as well and turns to see him. Her appearance is…startling.
She is bald, and pale white. Her eyes are a crimson red, matching J'onn's own. Her outfit is a black body suit, with a blue cape with a hood attached. A cloak, not unlike the one Raven of the Teen Titans wore before she became a disembodied spirit. However, the most eye-catching aspect of the ensemble is the red 'X' the covers the entire upper half of her body. A perfect match for the symbol that covers his bare chest.
J'onn knows, despite common belief, that he is not the Last Martian. The Justice League has met other Martians as well, has fought them because they are savage and cruel and seeking dominion over them all. White Martians, so a more apt descriptor would be to call him the Last Green Martian. And when he heard of this M'gann M'orzz, when he had been told that she had succeeded him, called him and adopted him as family, his heart had lightened and he had assumed that she had been Green.
But, upon further reflection, Superboy and the others had never clarified as much. They had simply called her a Martian.
J'onn felt like an idiot.
And then he's brained by the most powerful telekinetic blast he has ever felt in his life.
Arthur grunted as he landed on his feet, splashing into the water with Mera and Garth quickly following him. His estranged wife had insisted on accompanying them on this mission, citing Kaldur'ahm as her responsibility. Even now, Arthur could tell there was something off about that, something that Mera wasn't telling him. Something that the time travelers knew and were trying to hide. Well, whatever it was, it would have to wait. They needed to get the boy back first.
"Any sign of him?"
"None so far!" Mera called back.
"Uh… Aquaman, Queen Mera?"
That was Garth. Arthur turn around to see his former protege backing away from something. He stepped forward, about to ask what was wrong, until he caught a look about what startled Garth so. And froze.
Black Manta.
Snarling, Arthur gripped his trident and prepared to charge, only to stop when a soft, but familiar hand clutched his shoulder. He whipped his head around to see it was Mera, shaking her head with a harried expression. "No, Arthur," she said, almost pleading.
"Mera—!"
"That's not Black Manta! That's Kaldur'ahm!"
A beat of silence. Arthur stared.
"…What?"
Mera looked away, ashamed. Her grip on his should shoulder loosened, allowing Arthur to break away to once more to look at Blac—no, Kaldur'ahm. Upon further look, she was correct. The man in front of him had hair, for one — blond hair. The golden hair that Mera espoused her friend had. And his armor was orange and green, complete with his symbol on Arthur's own symbol on his belt. It looked like a sleeker, less-scaled version of Arthur's old outfit. The armor he had worn before the death of his son. But his face…
"Mera," Arthur began, his voice calm and cold, "why does he look like Black Manta?"
Mera remained silent. Garth, the observer, was also staring at Kaldur, paler than a ghost. His mouth kept on opening and closing, as if he didn't know what to say.
"Mera!"
"He's Manta's son, Arthur," Mera finally confessed, voice stilted and tearful, as she grabbed his arm. "The pirate who invaded Xebel, who seduced Sha'lain'a and tried to steal the treasure was Black Manta. He impregnated her, and she ran away with a henchman of his that he had mutated as part of his experiments: Calvin Durham. Kaldur was named after him."
Arthur glanced at her, glaring, before scrounging his eyes closed and breathing in deeply. Garth was watching them now, warily. He was wondering if they were going to have a blowout here, no doubt. For that, he soothed his rage. The anger could come later. This was more important.
"We shall discuss this another time," Arthur told her, wrenching his arm away. He stared hard at the visage of Kaldur, idly remembering that the boy was supposed to be a boy, not a man. Was that what Savage spoke of? What had he done to this boy? "Kaldur'ahm, I am Arthur Curry, the first Aquaman as you are no doubt aware. We need to—"
Kaldur didn't say anything. He just drew one of the waterbearers from his back and formed a sword, and tried to cut Arthur down. Arthur backed away to dodge the slash, and spun his trident forward. Garth immediately flanked him, falling back on years of partnership and training. After a moment, Mera did the same.
Now that the shock of Kaldur's appearance no longer blinded him, he could see the other man's expression in full. It was grim, but blank. His eyes were vacant.
Mind control, Arthur cursed. This was what Savage was talking about. "We need to knock him out!" he commanded.
"Arthur—!"
"He's under Savage's control, Mera! We have no choice!"
"Aquaman!" Garth called out again, alarmed.
Arthur watched in shock and horror as electricity began to dance around Kaldur's torso, making his pale green eyes glow a startlingly blue. The other Aquaman slammed his sword down to the water, the electricity traveling from his torso and down his arm to the pool below. Almost immediately, his three opponents felt the effects, wincing and gasping as the feeling of electrocution passed through them. "What the hell?" Garth gasped, trying to steady himself.
There was no time to answer. Kaldur leapt at them, two water swords in his hands, and only combat remained.
"Donna! Stop it!"
Donna didn't listen. Or, rather, she couldn't listen. Diana grit her teeth as she parried her sister's sword with her own, then dropped down and tried to sweep at Donna's legs. Donna easily maneuvered out of the way and followed up with a front kick that Diana had to block with one of her bracers. Undeterred, Donna quickly spun around and tried to kick Diana with her other leg, forcing her older sister to duck and roll to dodge. Diana quickly got back to her feet as Donna and her began to circle each other again, each searching for an opening.
From the side, a wincing Cassie sat up, watching the pitched battle with trepidation. She had spotted Donna the moment they had dropped down, and in her happiness, had failed to notice the change in her appearance. The fierce punch to her face and the harsh kick to her midsection had been the wakeup call. The attack had sent her careening onto the dirt floor, moaning, and caused Diana to attack in retaliation.
Now, that the haze of pain was beginning to fade, she could the difference. Donna looked older — a lot more like Diana, to be honest, though her long hair had a certain curl and sheen that her older sister lacked. it was also tied into a loose, low pony tail, hanging down her back and whipping around with every twist and turn. The outfit she was wearing was a silver version of Diana's own costume, blue where it was red, black where it was blue, but with white stars scattered about and a silver skirt in place of Diana's panties. She even wore a silver version of Diana's golden tiara, with a blue star embossed in the center.
And in the moment, Cassie realized that this was Donna when she was older and wiser and in that other time. This was the second Wonder Woman. It was made all the more obvious when she easily matched Diana blow-for-blow, sword-for-sword, shield-for-shield. She even had her own lasso, and this one had a certain shine to it that matched Diana's own — the Lasso of Truth. Savage had aged Donna to her prime, given her old armor and weapons, and then had taken control of her mind to make her kill them.
It would destroy Donna if that happened.
Cassie wouldn't let it happen.
She got up, and ran, this time more mindful of Donna's attacks. The former Wonder Girl had her sword locked with her predecessor, and was thus unprepared for Cassie jumping her from behind, striking at her back. That gave Diana enough of an opening to push Donna back, over Cassie, who had gone to her elbows and knees to further trip their opponent up. Donna involuntarily flipped over the impromptu stool, but quickly oriented herself so she landed gracefully on her feet. On the way she sheathed her sword onto her side and her shield on her back. She held up her hands.
Cassie got to her feet, only to quickly be pushed back to the side by Diana as huge blast of white energy passed through where the two of them had been standing. She whipped her head around to see Donna's hands glowing with the same energy, with a trail of smoke from each wafting upwards. "Photokinetic blasts? But she's not supposed to have those powers anymore!"
Diana grunted. "I know. This is going to be a lot more difficult than we thought."
A vast understatement. As if the energy blasts weren't enough, Donna made a small leap, beginning to float before she soared into the sky. Cassie watched her go with wide eyes before she was forced to run and dodge the torrent of star blasts thrown her way.
Bruce didn't even bother with words. He knew there was no point.
Teleportation. Magic. That, at least, partially explained how Jason and the others ended up in this time. Granted, it should've been obvious — Vandal Savage was a sorcerer of fair renown in this time. Bruce could only imagine what he had gotten up to after being stuck in a pocket dimension for thirty thousand years. Revenge was a great motivator, as every member of his family knew all too well.
They had landed on their feet, because of course they did, and immediately identified their surroundings. Large room, high ceilings, hanging lights, and walls with terraces and apparatuses. The first thing that came to Bruce's mind is that it looked like a battle arena. An idea that immediately made him suspicious.
That suspicion only grew when someone silently emerged from the shadows to confront them. A Batman. Upon seeing him, they all went on edge.
Unlike Bruce, this Batman was dressed differently. More…futuristic. For one thing, his cowl wasn't actually a cowl — it was a helmet, with armor covering the entirety of his face opposed to the upper half like Bruce's, and pointed ears sticking out from the back of the head, giving it the image of a bat. The eye coverings glowed an ominous white, in a way that made Bruce feel as if they were piercing into his soul.
The suit was not much better. It had no bright coloring whatsoever, no blues or yellows, just different shades of grays and blacks, barring the silver bat symbol on his chest. Even his utility belt was black, wrapped around his waist and forming a small 'v' above the lower half of his body. Just from looking at it, Bruce could see it was made of a sturdier and thicker fabric; he wouldn't be surprised if some heavy circuitry had been woven into it as well. Really, the only thing about the suit that was identical to Bruce's was the cape draped around the back, flaring out like his own.
It took Bruce seconds to figure out who this was — his missing son. The general size and overall physique matched Jason's adult form. Bruce would never forget that image, even if Jason spent most of it in a duel to the death with Ra's. Almost as tall and muscular as Bruce's own, just with a slightly leaner form.
This…this was the third Batman.
Bruce was impressed as he was terrified. Because Jason hadn't spoken a word, and with that helmet Bruce couldn't read his intentions. But judging by the apprehensive way Cass held herself and the tension in the air, and Savage's damning words — it'll be a much more difficult task than you think — the answer was obvious. Jason did not return to this form by choice. And, more than likely, Jason was not in control of himself. Meaning…
Bruce took out a batarang. Dick drew his sticks. Tim extended his staff. Cass fell into a stance.
Jason reached into his utility belt, took out what looked liked to be a small EMP device, and knocked out the lights.
Superman was the only one by himself.
Not even Steel was with him. That could not be a coincidence.
He looked around and—Kon.
Kon was older. Much older. He was a dead ringer for Clark, and the minute differences definitely came from Lex, which caused something to churn in his stomach. And his uniform…he was dressed as Superman. A much different-looking Superman, but a Superman nonetheless. Most of the body suit was black, except for his arms and shoulders, which were colored white. The House of El's symbol was red against a black background — really, the only similarity between their suits was the red cape with the yellow symbol stitched into it.
A different-looking Superman. A different kind of Superman.
But still Superman.
Clark stepped forward. "Kon…?"
That was all he managed to get out before he was bum-rushed, a punch to the chin hurling him through the ceiling and into the sky above.
"What did you do to them, Savage!" Alan Scott roared as they watched in horror as many of their comrades disappeared.
Savage smiled. "I just sent them to meet the captives. You know, the captives you were here to rescue?"
Courtney narrowed her eyes. "You did something to them, didn't you?"
The caveman shrugged, his own eyes flickering towards Courtney. "Of a sorts, Starwoman. I simply returned them to their original states. Allowed their bodies to match their minds. I'm certain you've all been wondering how powerful they all were in their timelines — well, your comrades are not getting a crash course in just how much."
"You son of a bitch," Wildcat growled. Around him, the remaining heroes readied themselves, preparing their attack. Savage raised a brow, and smirked.
"Now, now, we can't have that, can we?" He snapped his fingers.
Almost immediately, the walls of the base disappeared and the group of heroes found themselves in an open area once again. Except this time, they were surrounded by a number of villains, each of them looking on eagerly as they waited for the signal to begin the carnage. The already tense heroes felt the tightening of the string, as Savage appeared above them and clapped his hands.
Then, a hand fell.
And then… chaos.
A little shorter than the usual 5000-6000, but I couldn't think of anything more to add to this chapter. You'll be noticing that a certain someone is missing from the lineup. Don't worry. He'll be coming back soon.
As for the suits, I hope you can visualize them. Kaldur and M'gann are in their Young Justice cartoon suits, just more visibly older and adult-like. Wallace isn't really all that different from Barry and Wally, barring the visor. But as for the others — Donna's is a blue and silver and black pallette of Diana's DC Rebirth suit, while Kon is a mix of Justice Lord Superman and Batman Beyond Superman. Jason's, of course, is partially based on the Arkham Knight suit, though it's entire black and silver, with some white and gray.
In other news, RIP Chadwick Boseman. I didn't hear until a few days after the fact (because I don't keep up with celebrity news all that much, don't judge me), but I was heartbroken to hear about it. No matter what Disney decides from here on out, he'll always be Black Panther to me.
As for why it took so long for this chapter to come out, I took something of a break from writing and then started hashing out an AU for this AU. I won't say anything yet since it's still in the planning stages, but I think you'll like it. There's also another AU idea bouncing around my head, but I haven't really gotten the chance to flesh it out yet. Chances are, one of these two ideas, or Arc V of THAB, will be my project for this year's NaNoWriMo.
Next chapter: Era 1 vs Era 2.
