THREE – Worlds Apart
NOW
Selina and Bruce kneel down upon the thick carpeted floor. They look across the Wayne Manor family room to witness a sight that leaves their hearts beating at an elevated rate. Diana Martha Wayne lets out an infectious laugh as Alfred holds her hands above her head. Pudgy arms reach for the double-tray ceiling, twenty-one feet above her. Her gaze upward meets and passes through a large skylight. An afternoon rainstorm pounds down upon the curved, glass barrier. Lightning punctuates the dark, gray sky. Trailing thunderclaps cause more giggles from little Diana. Her bare feet struggle for a moment to support twenty-one pounds of body weight. With an overly watchful eye, Alfred lets go of Diana's soft, clenching fingers. Her body takes a quick shift to the right, her left foot threatening to lose purchase with the floor. She continues to wobble and careen slightly, but she maintains her balance while moving towards her parents.
Bruce's eyes grow wide, an anxious fatherly grin wears on his face.
"Right here, sweetie," Selina coos with outstretched arms. "Come to daddy and mommy."
Bruce gently rubs Selina's back and shoulders. "She has your moves," he says, observing Diana's zig-zag motion.
"Aren't you the funny one?" Selina responds, playfully patting Bruce on the face. "I can't believe she's walking. Didn't we just bring her home from the hospital?"
"I know," Bruce says, making funny faces at his one year old daughter; at least what constitutes a funny face to him.
Diana gurgles and laughs her way into Selina's arms.
"My little kitten!" Selina exclaims wrapping Diana up.
Bruce leans over to caress Diana's spit-puddled cheek, kissing her forehead. A moment blazes through him, feeding incredibly dire and guilty premonitions, yet it is also a moment of pride. A moment, an image of his daughter in the future, all grown up, fighting the fight he began decades ago. A moment that quickly burns from his thoughts as he peers down into her unconditional, loving eyes. His hope for his daughter becomes crystal clear, there will be no need to fight, at least in the manner of the Batman.
Bruce looks over with a questioning eyebrow to Dick Grayson, his younger brother in every way but biological.
More than a decade ago, Dick lost his parents and older sister to an extortion gambit that escalated quickly to a triple homicide. His family became casualties. Statistics in a seemingly endless concert of Gotham crime and violence. The Grayson's greatest joy, outside of time amongst themselves, was the circus. The joy and thrill it brought to all of them. They were dubbed by the masses, "The Flying Graysons," the best high-wire, trapeze act working the American circus circuit. Dick was groomed since he could walk to show no fear. Only to move forward. He learned, excelled quickly at throwing his balanced, athletic body through multiple contortions. Movements that occurred seventy feet above the ground.
Such joy, such adventure. All gone in a fleeting, searing moment.
A ten year old's world, crashed down upon him when the circus owners ran afoul of a Gotham mafia boss, Tony Zucco. Zucco's anger toward the unwilling owners was not manifested in physically assaulting them, but rather, to damage their product. Their brand, the performers the audiences most wanted to see. Trapeze ropes were weakened. Rope restraints were frayed and nearly cut through on the lone safety net. A hi-wire did not move and sway normally as it should have.
That fateful evening, the twenty-five year old, Bruce Wayne was in attendance under the Big Top circus tent. He watched the Flying Graysons, admiring their talent and dexterity. His career as the Batman had just begun. Bruce watched the young, Dick Grayson as he climbed up one of the hi-wire's support poles. The boy was nimble, trying to reach his moment of show. Mere seconds. That saved Dick Grayson's life. His adrenaline and smile, so innocent. So joyful. So horrified as his family's shocked expressions met his. And then they were gone. He did not hear the screams. He did not wonder how a man reached him so quickly, anchored him against the pole, gently carried him down. Dick's feet would tap to the dirt ground as his eyes tracked to his family. The blood. Their mangled bodies. Dick felt the man's hands, so strong, held him in place. The man's arms wrapped around him. His warm breath upon Dick's face. The smell of cotton candy and popcorn wafted through the tent.
The still-in-shock, Dick Grayson finally heard the screams and commotion. His body, instinctively gravitated to his parents. To his older sister, who was his best friend. His protector.
"Don't," the man attempted to soothe him. "Don't."
Bruce Wayne would hold Dick Grayson until the authorities arrived. Bruce saw so much of his child-self in that moment. When years earlier, James Gordon was there for him the night his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, died. Were murdered. Bruce became Dick's James Gordon. Before midnight, the Batman realized the Graysons' deaths were not an accident. By the following morning, he knew Zucco was behind it. It took the new Batman less than a day to gather enough evidence for Zucco's arrest, which led to a conviction and a life term prison sentence. It took Bruce Wayne a little longer to realize he could not abandon Dick Grayson to the Gotham State. Robin would be born soon thereafter. And once adulthood was reached, Dick transitioned to Nightwing, a costumed, alter ego used in his own war against Gotham's underworld.
"Yes, Bruce," the twenty-three year old, Dick assures with a grand smile of his own. "I got Diana all on video."
Bruce nods approvingly as he and Selina, with Diana in her arms, stand.
"I found it," Barbara Gordon hurries into the room holding a stuffed feline play toy. "It was hiding in the library. Waitaminute. Nooo. Did I miss her walking?"
"You most certainly did," Dick lets out, walking over to his roommate, lover and partner in fighting crime. "I got you though. Here, check it out."
"Ohh," Barbara voices as the others surround she and Dick, watching the phone playback of Diana's first real walk. "Look at that balancing. Dad or mom?"
"Looks more bat than cat," Selina observes sparking laughter amongst them all. She brings Diana's face up to hers, tickling their noses together. "I think it's time for your nap, my baby girl."
Selina hears a not-so-subtle fake coughing from Barbara. She looks to her with a knowing grin. Selina's eyes mockingly roll as she looks down to Diana. "Would you like Auntie Barb to read you a story?" she asks into the staring green eyes of Diana. "Take you to nap time?"
"Yes!" Barbara blurts out holding her waiting and wanting hands outward.
"Really?" Dick comments as Selina hands over Diana to Barbara.
"What story would you like to hear?" Barbara asks the cooing Diana, while moving towards a grand hallway beyond one of the room's archways.
Dick gives a what-can-you-do gesture to Bruce, Selina and Alfred as he heads off after them. "I'll send the video to your phones," he assures.
Selina rests her head on Bruce's chest. "Those two will someday, make interesting parents," she observes.
"I have no doubt of that," Alfred says feeling the buzz of his phone in his vest's pocket. "If you two need nothing else?"
"We're good, Alfred," Bruce replies.
"Thank you, Alfred," Selina says.
Alfred nods and begins to walk away. Bruce looks to the man who has known him longer than anyone else.
"Alfred?" Bruce says placing a hand on his surrogate father's shoulder.
Alfred turns to find Bruce embracing him. The smile on Selina's face is surpassed by the surprise on Alfred's face. Yet his arms come up, finding themselves returning Bruce's hug.
"You have been there for me," Bruce says. "Thirty-seven years. Always. There has been so much bad. I'm glad you're here for the good."
Bruce pulls away, resting his hands on Alfred's shoulders. "I want you to know your loyalty, is something I value every day. Not as a job my parents hired you for, but because you are family. Every sense of the word. Every moment I'm out there. There would be no Batman without you."
"I like to think, Master Bruce," Alfred manages, stifling his emotions. "That my duty, when your parents were taken away from us, was to make sure there would always be a Bruce Wayne. Batman was disturbing, but borne from a horrible moment. Bruce Wayne is this. This home. Your parents. Now your own family beyond the cape and cowl. The legacy of Batman will be forever, but so will Bruce Wayne. You have no idea, how much I have enjoyed this last year inside the Manor. I have never seen you smile so much in all your years."
Alfred breaks away from Bruce with a nod. He smiles at Selina and exits the room, heading down another long hallway.
Selina comes up from behind and places her arms around Bruce's shoulders. "Just when I think I can't possibly love you more," she says. "That was lovely, putting yourself out like that."
Bruce turns around, his wife's enchanting face filling his vision. "Tomorrow is never promised, right?"
"No, it isn't," Selina agrees, bringing Bruce's face to hers.
Several pecks later, the married couple falls down upon a very comfortable looking, black couch. Selina brings her knees up and saddles into Bruce's side. His arm brings her in close. Contemporary art from Gotham's rising artisans decorates the far side of the room.
"So, two years," Selina breaks the pleasant silence.
"I hate these damn anniversaries, brings up buried memories," Bruce says.
"You never bury. Anything. But I get your point. They suck," Selina deems. "Even more that our others are so far away. Vic. Sarah. J'onn and Hal. Thankfully, we have Arthur and Mera here. Coming by next week."
"And we still have Barry," Bruce deadpans. "At a second's notice."
Selina pokes Bruce in the side. "Stop. Barry is kind. And sweet. And he loves our daughter."
"I'm joking," Bruce reveals. "Barry went through hell with Doomsday. More than earned my respect. And friendship. He had it before that, just don't tell him."
Selina buries her head deeper, finding that perfect resting spot, into Bruce's dark, blue tee shirted chest. "Elephant in the conversation," she offers.
Bruce looks down at the top of Selina's head. Long, black locks of hair flow in all directions. "Alive," he says. "Both of them."
"I believe that, too," she responds. "Truly. I just wish. Just…"
"We knew where they were," Bruce finishes. "Di gone for two years now. Clark, two himself. Only got a few minutes with him. Be a year, tomorrow."
"The might of Superman, the heart of Clark Kent," Selina opines. "Hell. The Underworld. Wherever he is, Clark won't stop."
"First time we talked about them in months," Bruce remarks.
"I kept hoping they would just show up," Selina says. "Good as new. Still do. I didn't want to keep picking over that scab, with you."
"Don't think it will be healed, fully, until we know," Bruce suggests. "I. Didn't say anything, but last month, I reached out to Hippolyta. She said there had been no change. At the door on Themyscira."
Selina lightly laughs. "I know," she replies. "I also contacted her. After you. Spoke with Phillipus. She told me, and the same thing. No news."
"Aren't we the pair?" Bruce throws out. "Okay. Enough longing for now. Before our wondrous daughter showed off her walking skills, I got confirmation of a lead I've been working."
"The lead?" Selina asks, pushing slightly up, off Bruce's chest to look him in the eyes. "Athena? Diana's sword?"
Bruce nods affirmative. "Lex Luthor," he lets out.
"Holy shit," Selina says. "Holy shit. That mother…, son of a bitch."
"I'm certain it's at Lex Corp's headquarters in Metropolis. He did a serviceable job covering himself, but I promised Clark," Bruce states. "Now, I just may need the talents of the greatest thief I know, said with love and admiration, to help retrieve it."
I haven't been out in months," Selina says. "I'm carrying a few extra pounds."
"In all the right places," Bruce quickly follows moving a hand across and down Selina's body.
Selina smirks trying to stifle a full-out smile. "You may like the bigger ass and breasts, but I need at least three weeks."
"Three weeks?" Bruce repeats, playfully groping his wife's body.
"What are you doing?" Selina asks, casually placing an exploring hand on Bruce's thigh.
"I think I know an effective way you can burn some calories," Bruce offers. "I can assist."
"Oh really? Do tell, or rather show," Selina replies as the rain's intensity continues plip-plopping from above upon the skylight.
Over one hundred light years away, the gigantic space vessel that once served not only as the weapon of Brainiac, but also the prison to nearly three hundred million beings, positions itself in space orbit above the farthest planet from the system's sun. Victor Stone, clad in black hoodie and sweatpants, stands inside the newly completed bridge. Eight other individuals of differing species and origins monitor consoles and video readouts. The low-lit bridge is mostly quiet, a few intermittent beeps and a constant, rhythmic venting from throughout the ship.
With Brainiac gone, Clark and his crew had begun modifications making a more crew-friendly, organic bridge construction. Victor, Steve Dayton and Professor Emil Hamilton finished the construct, spending many days learning the ship's bones and programming. Victor is close to being capable of controlling every function of the ship via encrypted transmitting signals.
"How do you pronounce it again?" Victor asks.
"Coal-sin-two-row," says the blue skinned woman seated at a console nearest to the bridge window.
"Colsyntoro," Victor repeats. "It's mesmerizing."
He looks out of the main bridge window, down upon the beautiful, light blue tinged planet. Twelve distinct rings of ice particles and silicates circle the mammoth-sized world. Victor's cybernetic eye tracks multiple, violent windstorms above its surface.
"That is a sight, isn't it?" Victor hears Hal's voice from behind him.
"That, would be an understatement," Victor replies. "A thousand Earths could fit into that one planet. My parents were all about this stuff. Man, if they could be here now."
Hal places a hand on Victor's shoulder. "Maybe they are," he says.
Victor smiles. "Maybe," he returns. "I thought you would have beat me here."
Hal grunts. "Late night, poker with J'onn, L'adria. A few others."
"How did you do?" Victor asks, noticing Hal is wearing the same shirt and jeans from many hours ago.
"No comment," he responds, squinting with a follow-up scratch to his beard stubble.
Victor laughs. "So, Earth-born Hal Jordan loses to non-Earth born aliens, playing an Earth card game?"
"Damn, didn't look at it that way," Hal says. "Shit. I suck."
"Yep," Victor says. "The anomaly. I haven't locked it down yet. The storms below are just, magnificent, and hellish at the same time. Makes a F-five hurricane back home look like a kid blowing out birthday candles."
"So, if we do lock in, how do we investigate?" Hal asks.
"Well, it took a month," Victor replies. "But your ring got us this far. Nothing more?"
Hal brings his right hand up, his Lantern ring glows with a high green intensity. The light was not there previously. Not after the planetary destruction of Oa, home to the Lantern Corps. Or when Victor and J'onn asked Hal a year ago to accompany them into space. Victor and J'onn had no clear direction, and who better they thought, than Hal, who had been a Green Lantern for several years. Sector 2814 had been Hal's primary patrolling assignment. The Guardians of the Universe divided the entire universe into three thousand six hundred sectors. Sector 2814 consisted of the Sol system, inclusive of Earth, along with twenty other populated planets. Hal's time as a Green Lantern were still relatively limited, but there was no one else on Earth with comparable experiences of both, alien worlds and aliens themselves.
Those first few months after Clark left the ship outside Earth's orbit, Hal served as Victor's navigator to the galaxy. Hal was even able to resume some Green Lantern duties, thanks to the exoskeleton suit provided to him by Clark and Victor. Moreover, with Victor and J'onn at his side, they became an effective unit, helping out several alien worlds from agricultural issues to evil dictators needing to be overthrown.
On first boarding the vessel, Victor initially asked Clark's crew for direction and leadership. But it soon became obvious that Clark was the lone straw that stirred the drink of the ship's journey and command. Clark's number one aboard, Satalia, was happiest at tinkering. All of the others, thirty-eight in total, stayed on once Clark left. They were each a lone survivor of planets destroyed by Brainiac. The last of their respective kinds, they felt not only an obligation to Clark, but also a true affinity for the man of steel. They all volunteered their services when Clark told them his plan, to return all the bottled cities and peoples to their home worlds. Helping him run the massive ship was paying on a debt that could never, in their minds, truly be paid in full. Their lives had been saved. Renewed, given the allowance and the promise of an independent destiny. They were no longer bound by constraints.
Accordingly, each one volunteered once again to accompany Clark on his latest mission, traveling literally to Earth's Hell and bringing back his wife. They had no idea what Hell was until Clark explained, and many of them had similar beliefs from their respective cultures. They dismissed the impossibility of such a place truly existing because it was Clark telling them. They did not, however, come to worship Clark as a messiah, as so many individuals on Earth had. They lived with the man for a year. Each spent time with him in various capacities, bonds established where verbal declarations were no longer needed to express respect and trust.
Clark became their affirmed leader. He knew they could not make the journey with him, but the offering touched him deeply. He felt tremendous guilt leaving them, but knew they would rise to any and all challenges. Their loyalty, their continuing pledge to him, was now to Victor and the others. The Clark stories they told to Victor over the last year made Victor not only miss his friend and mentor even more, but it also made him realize there was no one else alive he admired more. Clark is an alpha, maybe the alpha of the entire universe. Yet, as Victor observed on so many occasions, Clark never carried himself in such a manner.
To that point, Clark could declare himself Ruler of Earth, and Victor is unsure whether the League could stop him. Victor finds himself in both, awe and fear of what a totally unleashed Clark could do to the planet and beyond. More impressive to Victor is the leash that Clark has self-imposed upon himself. The closest Victor has ever witnessed an unfettered Clark was Doomsday. Clark was brutal. Doomsday had laid waste to Barry, J'onn, Hal and Arthur with relative ease. And yet, the force of nature that was Doomsday offered little resistance to Superman. Clark purposely took Doomsday's life. He saw in the creature his murdered wife. His fallen friends. The thousands of human lives taken at the hands of Brainiac's forces. The unrelenting despair washed over Clark during that moment. He allowed it to envelope and hold him. Ultimately that sorrow was released in a tidal wave of anger that crashed over and literally, through Doomsday.
That day still runs through Victor's mind; not as much as it once did, but a day he still remembers because it was the last time he saw Clark. And that decision, Clark's decision to kill Doomsday is something Victor wrestles with on a moral level, knowing that Clark has probably relived and judged that moment countless times. Victor wishes he could talk to his friend. It has been so long. Victor does, however, find joy in meeting with so many aliens who knew of Clark, the super-powered man in black. The man who brought back not only people, but also fully intact cities to planets previously devastated by Brainiac. Victor still laughs at the universe's categorizing Clark as the Earth man rather than a Kryptonian.
Victor's artificial eye pulses a deep red as he draws upon the League's bond, no longer a group, but a family. His family. He has little doubt Clark will find his way back home, he and Diana. His greater concern is at what cost? Will they be themselves, the ones he remember and love? Victor still finds it hard to reconcile the once absurd notion of gods and goddesses being a reality. His mind gave such allowance for Amazons, but for it to now find mental space for a Zeus, an Apollo, an Athena, actually existing, is a walk he keeps putting on hold. The consequence of such existences finds no safe harbor in his mind; a mind that can process sixty quadrillion calculations per second.
"You really think something Corp is down there?" Victor asks.
"Something," Hal replies. "My ring has been playing the hot-cold game for weeks. Now, I can feel an energy buzz. Before you ask, I still can't conjure anything. But I'm definitely feeling, this is the end point."
Victor's brow furrows as he puts a hold-sign hand up to Hal. "Satalia?" he asks. "Are you reading additional activity? Ships?"
Satalia taps several buttons. "There are," she says. "Multiple ships arriving. All around the planet. They are, for the time being, showing no hostile indications."
Victor and Hal look towards the bridge's window. Several of the planet's twenty-three moons can be seen, one flickering in and out between the planet's rings.
"How many?" Victor inquires, scanning the vastness of space.
"Seventeen," Satalia replies. "No, eighteen. External scanners show none with capability of serious consequences."
"Consequences? I like that. Proximity? The nearest one?" Victor asks.
"One hundred point two, three kleiptos," Satalia says.
Hal looks to Victor for translation.
"About eight thousand miles," Victor states. "Hopefully, me and Emil will have that facet of communication translation ready for uploading soon. Talia, can you open up a line, communications?"
"We are being contacted by one of the ships," she replies.
Victor looks back to Satalia, then to Hal. "Okay," Victor sighs. "Put them through. Audio only for now."
Satalia taps the side of the headset resting on her head, she nods to Victor.
"You are transmitting. Please identify yourselves," Victor opens as Sarah comes through the bridge's doors. She wears a similar black clothing ensemble as Victor. Concern mixes with excitement upon her face as she walks to his side.
"Is this the ship of Brainiac?" a slightly nasal, female voice inquires. "Now under the commandership of Kal-El? Is it he, with whom I am speaking?"
"It is not," Victor replies. "Kal is off ship."
"On the planet below?" Laira inquires.
"Elsewhere," Victor says. "Who am I speaking with?"
"You speak with, Laira," she responds. "You are from Earth?"
"Yes," Victor simply responds as Sarah massages one of his hands. Although both his hands are made of Promethium rather than flesh, he senses the hand and fingers' pressure of her comforting gesture. His late, brilliant father, Silas Stone, left completed algorithms that allowed Victor to enable, within himself, a touch sensation capability at his discretion. His cybernetic fingers feel Sarah's warm hand. Victor has not turned off the capability, at any point, since sharing their first kiss.
"Do you know Green Lantern, Hal Jordan?" Laira asks.
Hal is about to respond when Victor eyes him not to. "He is a friend," Victor says. "How do you know, Hal?"
"I do not," she says. "I know of him. I am a Green Lantern, of Sector 112."
Victor shoots a non-verbal command to Satalia to mute the communication.
"What do you think the odds are of Green Lanterns being in those other ships?" Victor asks.
"Pretty damn high would be my guess," Hal responds. "We haven't come across any others since being out here."
"Hal?" Sarah asks. "You spoke of other color Lanterns. Was it mostly Green Lanterns lost on Oa?"
"I've been trying to find an answer to that," Hal responds. "Green Lanterns make up…made up around eighty percent of the Corps. I've only met a few of the other colors."
"What differentiates you again?" Sarah continues.
"Green Lanterns are proponents and executioners of sheer will power," Hal answers. "I was drilled that line repeatedly for days during my first trip to Oa. The other Lanterns? The history? Origin? So convoluted that I have a hard time following it. I mentioned the Yellow Lanterns, broke off from the Guardians and Oa teachings. They seek order through fear. Destruction. Terror. They are a threat."
"Could they be here?" Sarah asks.
"To be honest, I'm surprised they haven't made their presence known," Hal says. "That scares me. They are led by Sinestro. He is ambitious, arrogant and more than capable. With the destruction of Oa, I assumed he would fill the power vacuum."
"Who's to say he hasn't already?" Victor asks. "We like to think of ourselves as the center of the universe, but he could be causing mayhem light years away."
"And if he knows about our red and blue friend in Earth's sector," Sarah says. "He may think twice before coming here."
"Fair point," Hal agrees. "But not even Clark would keep him away forever. God, my mind just went on a tangent wondering if Clark and Diana are back. Vic, I need to speak with Laira."
"Of course," Victor says as he, Hal and Sarah move to a circular construct, about two meters in diameter, embedded near the center of the bridge floor. "'Talia, full transmission, please."
A crystal clear holographic image of a beautiful, light indigo colored woman with long, flowing red hair appears in full size from the construct. She wears a dark green mask covering her eyes. Long gloves, and boots that carry up to her thighs. A matching green colored leotard covers her thin, but muscular body frame. The Green Lantern symbol on her chest.
Hal notices her green lantern ring, shining the same glow as his.
"I'm Hal Jordan," he greets. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Laira."
"You do not wear the uniform, Hal Jordan," Laira observes. "Yet, my visual scan matches my records of Hal Jordan. As such, I am happy to meet you also."
"Yeah," Hal replies. "My uniform is on board. Were you called here, Laira? By the ring?"
Hal holds his up, as does she. Each staring at the intensifying green glow.
"Yes," Laira says. "There are others with me. We are around the planet."
"We count eighteen ships," Hal says. "Are there more?"
"Unknown," Laira responds. "We all, other Green Lanterns, found each other. On our way here. Where is here?"
Satalia stands up and walks closer to the hologram.
"The planet, Colsyntoro," she says.
"It's not in our records," Laira says. "This sector is under the watch of Jare. Have you come across him?"
"No," Hal says. "Laira, how many Green Lanterns are with you?"
"Ninety-eight," she says. "I was on my way to Oa, after the distress call. I believe just as many of us were caught in the wake of the planet's explosion as those on planet. If it truly is only us, Hal Jordan….thousands of our brothers and sisters died at the hands of Brainiac. He is dead, isn't he?"
"He is," Hal says.
"Victor?" Satalia calls to. "Something is happening at mark twelve point two three six on the planet."
Victor, Hal and Sarah instinctively look out of the ship's bridge to see nothing but the planet.
"I'm receiving a communication," Satalia says. "It's weak."
"Play it," Victor says.
Static audio fills the bridge room. Laira's hologram listens intently too, as the audio static begins to dissipate. A cracking voice is breaking through. And then it does.
"…we are in need of evacuation," the familiar voice says. "We are located at…"
The static returns.
Victor 's human eye finds Hal, each with the same expression. "Was that, Kilowog?" Victor asks.