A what if, though you will have to forgive me if I leave out astrophes right now, my mozilla is buggering up and tries to search everytime I try to hit that button.

I do not own anything by DC comics:

Bruce Wayne growled menacingly at the screen, which showed Superman and the Flash double teaming yet another alien menace. The superheroes of the world had come together over the last few months to form an elite group they liked to call the "Justice League". Somehow Batman's invitation had been lost in the mail. Robin had left him for the teen titans, leaving just Alfred and himself alone in the Wayne Mansion, and feeling rejected.

'What do they got that I haven't got?' he thought, then remembered: Powers. Superhuman strength, speed and dashing good looks. He may have had the last, but he doubted that charming the ladies off their feet would count as a viable power. Though if he applied it to the super villians it might be effective, he'd probably be the least respected in the League.

"Oh my goodness!" cried the reporter, some tramp named Lois Lane who wore too much makeup, "I think...yes! The Green Lantern!"

Click. The television turned off. "Sir," said Alfred with a bow, "Prehaps you should not be sitting here, depressing yourself."

"I will do whatever I want," he sighed. He looked at the man who had just about raised him from childhood. "Alfred, I dont understand. I thought I was doing it right. Millionaire by day, the dark knight at, well, night...what happened?"

Alfred smiled, he always had that mysterious look, as though he knew more than he was letting on. "Well sir, if you want my honest opinion, I believe they have simply not had reason to come looking for you. You take such good care of Gotham that none of them have ever had, well, need to come to the so called rescue."

Bruce sighed, "Well, it's not like Batman can take a vacation..." Alfred nodded and he blanched, "Alfred! I couldn't do that to the people...they could get hurt...they could...they could..."

"Be rescued at the last minute? Just when one of them shows up." Alfred yawned, "But just a suggestion sir...probably nothing in it." He bowed slightly and left a moping Bruce to his thoughts.

The Next Morning...

"Good morning, sir," Alfred said as Bruce sat down at the breakfast table and took the newspaper to read. Across the front page was splayed a dynamic picture of the woman known as Wonder Woman as she lassoed a pair of fleeing bank robbers.

Wonder Woman's Lasso of Justice Ropes League Invite

He gritted his teeth at the headline. "How many is that now, Alfred?"

"Well, according to the radio this morning, there's now Superman, -"

"Well, that figures."

"- Wonder Woman,-"

"So I can see."

"-The Flash,-"

"You mean Superman's klepto buddy?"

"-Green Lantern,-"

"And his stupid ring thing? What is that anyway?"

"-Aquaman,-"

"Spoiled prince."

"-Martian Manhunter,-"

"Well, he's okay..." Bruce thought about that for a moment, he couldn't think of anything about the martian, "But, he's ugly."

"-Scarlet Skier..."

"Who?"

"There's actually quite a list," Alfred said with a shrug, handing him a list of a couple dozen names. Batman, noticeably, was missing.

He threw the list down, disgruntled. "I haven't even heard of some of these people! And what kind of a power is 'growing to gragantuan sizes?' It might please the ladies, but what good can it really do other than give them more of a target?"

"Apparently," Alfred said, taking back the list, "Apache Chief is very helpful when it comes to those giant robots that bother Metropolis from time to time."

"Don't remind me." He paused, "Hey Alfred, give me back that list...I want to see something." Alfred obliged, and pretended to wash a stubborn stain from the counter as he watched his ward from the corner of his eye. "Healing, supernova, telepathy..ah hah! Look!" He leapt up, "Black Canary! Martial Artist, detective-like skill, beautiful, sexy and...darn it!" He threw down the list, "Recently aquired a super sonic cry. They all have powers! Every last one of them! Has the world gone mad!"

Alfred shook his head, "Prehaps, sir, you could try some of that toxic waste-"

"Alfred, just stop. I'll figure it out." He sighed, "Call me if you come up with any ideas that won't get anyone killed."

Downtown Gotham City: Wayne Enterprises

Bruce sat down and looked around his less than modest office. His leather backed chair beside his mahogany desk, he looked every bit the millionaire he was in this office. He turned to face the window and gazed out at Gotham City. The city of intrigue, beauty and danger. And he was considered the king by many. He stretched, and tried to put the disappointment of the last few days out of his mind.

"Sir, a Mister Clark Kent from the Daily Planet here to see you."

He sighed. Another reporter. Didn't those vultures have better things to do in life than bugging him. Like maybe getting a real job? "Okay Doris. Let him in."

The young man who walked in looked like the steroetypical reporter all right. Glasses that perched precariously on his nose, ready to fall and break at the most inoppurtune of times, an ink stain on his blazer's pocket, and a goofy grin that spoke of an awed nervousness. Bruce put on a smile and stood up, extending his hand to Mr. Kent.

"Clark Kent. I've read some of your articles in the Daily Planet, not bad. What brings you to Gotham?"

Mr. Kent had quite a grip, and Bruce massaged his palm as he sat back down. 'Some Kansas farm boy made city boy no doubt.'

"The Joker," Mr. Kent said, glancing at his clipboard. "I heard that last week he crashed one of Wayne Enterprises' famous soirees."

Bruce leaned back, grinning slightly. Maybe this was his chance to bring Batman into the lime light. "Yes indeed. I'm surprised you're asking about last week, I thought the Planet was a little more punctioual. I mean, I'm surprised you didn't come about Mr. Freeze's attack on the diamond shop just yesterday morning."

"Oh, we heard all about that all ready," Clark said, waving his hand as though it didn't matter. "He's been taken to Bel Reive for psychoanalysis. He won't be bothering anyone for some time." He leaned in, "I'm more concerned with this Joker."

Bruce wanted to sigh. Bel Rieve was in Metropolis, Superman's domain. "What about him. A mad man with no fashion sense."

"Do any of them?"

"It wouldn't appear so." Bruce reached for a glass of water. "Well, he brought in his cronies and tried to blow up the Wayne Tower with explosive whoopie cushions."

Clark grinned, "So, he's a bad dresser and relies on old cliche jokes?"

"Unfourtunately."

Bruce rose, and walked to the window, where he could watch his beloved city without having to show his excitment. "I'm sure Batman will take care of him soon enough."

The reporter raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued. "Batman?"

Bruce nodded, glaning back, "Oh yeah. Our own local hero. He helps out an awful lot with the local madmen. The Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Two Face...most oh whom are currently residing in Arkham thanks to his bravery."

"Ah." Kent looked back at his clipboard, suddenly uninterested, "So, no current news."

Bruce tried not to cringe. It figured the paparazzi wanted only the Joker. After all, if it bleeds, it reads. He cleared his throat, trying to remind Kent that it was his time that was being wasted. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, quite honestly, what's his MO for wanting to come after you Mr.Wayne."

This was news to Bruce, who turned, his surprise splayed across his face. "Where did you hear that?"

The upstart reporter grinned, obviously thinking he had the upper hand. "Around."

"Well, I am a very rich individual, unfourtunately sometimes my wealth tends to draw unwanted attention." He sighed, and went back to his desk, wondering how he had missed this one. Usually he was one of the first ones to know of a threat against him. Then again, he had been devoting an awful lot of time to watching the Justice League on television. "I personally think I'll have very little to worry about. I have complete faith in not only our local police force, but also much in our own Dark Knight." He turned. "Batman, that is."

"Yes, I believe you mentioned him earlier," Kent said, almost looking annoyed. "But this story isn't about Batman, Mr.Wayne, it's about you, and why the Joker would want to blow up the Tower, destroying any and all valuables that might be within. It would almost seem an act of vengence rather than the greed that he so normally displays."

Kent obviuously didn't know who he was talking about. "The Joker thrives on Chaos. He doesn't always need a rhyme nor reason. Ever see his Christmas special? I'm sure you can find it in all the news archives. He put it on every channel across Gotham."