I love this review: Ballmaster: I don't get it. A story as nice as yours deserves 100 times the reviews that you're getting! A person as nice as you're deserves even more than a 100 times:)
Thanks for making me feel appreciated, Ballmaster! And to the rest of you who are reading and reviewing – I really love you guys!
Also, if you haven't seen "A Better World," let me summarize really quickly, if possible. The Justice Lords are from an alternate universe and they have instilled martial law over their Earth – no freedoms of any kind – speech, press, anything. They aren't afraid to kill, to lobotomize, or to silence all objections to their order. The Lords have the same group members, but their Flash died. The Lords' Batman discovers the Justice League that exists on this Earth and they decide to come to the League's Earth in order to indoctrinate their order there as well, capturing the Justice League and taking over. Does that make any sense?
One Spark, Chapter 3, Heart & Soul, by Huey Lewis & the News
Bruce's perspective…
I awoke from the blackness that followed the intense agony to find myself a prisoner, shackled at both wrists and legs, and for once, at a complete loss as to explain the circumstances surrounding our capture. I took a deep breath, struggling to reconcile myself to my surroundings and get my bearings, forcing my mind to wrap itself around everything that had just happened. Why had the alternate Earth's J'onn J'onnz played a part in our incarceration? My mind raced to consider the possible reasons that this Earth's team could have for imprisoning us – perhaps there was no other team, perhaps the second Manhunter had been forced to trick us into entering the portal, or perhaps the team here was bent on some strategy for world domination, even to the point of altering other realities for their own possibly nefarious purposes.
One thing was certain – I was not going to find any answers while trapped in these restraints. I had to find a means of escape and enact a rescue for the rest of the team. The art of the escape had always been one of my best hero-like attributes, and I knew that if I put my mind to it, I could find a way out of my current situation. Somewhere in this cell block, all of my teammates were imprisoned as well, including Diana. I had seen her go down beside me in that white-walled room and I knew that the most probable conclusion was that she was in the same, if not better condition that I was currently in. But right now, my focus had to be on the team and our freedom.
I looked up at my wrists, trying to discover whether or not I could pick the lock holding together my bonds or discover any type of flaw in the design. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any blemish in the fabrication of my shackles. In fact, the design looked incredibly familiar to me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I was bound in an X-shaped form, standing isolated in the middle of a neutral-colored room. Facing me was a sheath of glass, a clear wall so that our activities and movements could be monitored by any outside bystander.
And suddenly, I recognized the design – it was one of my own.
A darkly clad figure strode up to my cell, staring at me through the pane of glass, and I felt almost as if I was staring at myself in a reflection. The same bat-eared cowl and cape, lantern jaw, and bat insignia adorning the uniform. But this figure was standing outside the glass, a shadowy shape watching me like a rat in a cage, a toy for his amusement. He peered down at the numbered padlock I knew would be on the door, resting just above it would be a heart-rate monitor. My current vital statistics would be normal, pulse at average rate, but I had yet to understand why were in this predicament, why this darker version of the Justice League would seek to capture us, to hold us hostage behind glass and walls. As he stood there, examining the beat of my heart, I decided to ask him just that.
"One question."
He looked up at me in a stoic and casual manner, obviously having anticipated this line of questioning from his double. Staring him straight in the eye, I gave him the one word I knew he was expecting from me – "Why?"
He didn't even hesitate, answering in a deep and utterly familiar voice, "Because you and your friends couldn't do what needed to be done." He paused for a moment, then strode away, opposite of the direction from which he had emerged, presumably to check on the other inmates of our little prison. I again began to search for a means of escape, but the voice returned from beyond the glass.
"There are mercury switches at your hands and feet," he informed me in a brusque manner, one I would normally appreciate, but today, the tone of his voice grated on my nerves, irritating me with his smugness and I couldn't contain my glare. "Any motion and I'll know about it."
I began to realize the utter futileness of the situation that we were in, as a team. I was the escape artist for our version of the Justice League – doubtless their Batman would be the same. He could anticipate my actions, my ideas, even my thoughts simply because we were of the same body, the same mind. There was no escaping my double – this Justice League had us trapped.
I looked at him, anger building, as I replied, "You've thought of everything."
He smirked a little, and simply answered, "No. Just everything you'll ever think of." His words merely served to confirm my suspicions – the situation was direr than I had originally realized or been able to comprehend. My brain raced, but no immediate solutions or possible answers came to mind as an escape. After all, how could you escape from your own self?
Listening to the silence around me, I began to hear the sounds of a struggle in the cell to my right, the one in the direction that the other Batman had taken. By my deductions, the groans appeared to be coming from Flash and then, the noise stopped and a voice entered the air – "What are you looking at, huh?"
Silence reigned for a moment before I heard the voice that was similar to my own speak up.
"Calm down."
I was surprised this other version of me was taking an interest in the Flash. Normally, I made it a rule to ignore Flash, particularly his silly antics and stunts. He may have been the fastest man alive, but he was also one of the most immature. His inanity often grated on my nerves, infuriating me to the point where it was simply easier to work around Flash than with him. Because I was aware of his secret identity, I also knew that the Flash was the youngest member of our little group, therefore the most prone to accidents and the less prone to seriousness. His sense of humor could be appreciated at times, but, as a loner, I rarely relied on a sense of humor to get me by.
The voice continued in that same bland tone, echoing throughout the corridor – "You'll appreciate this some day." Yet, something struck me as odd about his voice, a hint of pleasure sneaking into the flatness and something told me that perhaps the Flash was at least part of the key to the mystery of this other Justice League.
I heard Flash pipe up again, obviously angry and letting his bitterness spew forth. "Yeah? I don't think Hawkgirl's going to appreciate it too much."
Immediately, the other Batman seemed to want to put the Flash at ease, his voice picking up in speed and volume.
"That was an accident."
I wondered if this world knew something about accidents, particularly something about the Flash that we had yet to learn. The other members had been conspicuously absent, but I wasn't surprised by that. I, too, on our Earth would have been the warden of this prison, the one standing guard and anticipating escapes while the others completed their mission. And it was the mission that they were out on that was concerning me now.
"She's in our best hospital now and…"
But the Flash was obviously in no mood to listen to explanations and attempts to placate him. Again, his voice snapped out, "I don't want to hear it," and I could almost see the petulant look on his face.
But the other Batman was not finished with his rationalizations just yet.
"Believe me, the last thing we want is to lose another…"
His voice stopped, and the silence was overwhelming now. Obviously one of the members of this team had been killed, lost in battle, and I could only imagine the entire team's reaction to such a tragedy. And from this Batman's reaction to the Flash, I had reason to believe that this team had lost the humor, and often the soul and the moral compass of the team, in losing the Scarlet Speedster.
But Flash had yet to understand the situation. He had yet to understand the reaction and the reasoning behind my counterpart in this world. Instead, he questioned him, "Another what?"
But there was no answer, simply the soft echoing of footsteps and the whoosh of a door closing.
Informal poll: How many of you have actually seen this episode? How many of you remember this episode?
I'm trying my best to explain what's going on – hopefully I'm helping!
And sorry, this time no Diana – all about the Bat, baby!
