Acquisition

Air screeched on either side of the cockpit, muffled by the thick windshield of the jet. Steve tightened his grip on the cyclic stick as he guided the aircraft closer and closer to the skull-shaped spaceship that hovered over Metropolis.

His thoughts were only at the matter at hand, nothing spared for why this was happening or what caused it. The only thing important was that it was happening and it needed to be stopped.

On either side, other fighter jets broke formation, engaging with the enemy fighters that radar was detecting. Steve responded in kind, moving his stick as he focused on the inevitable dogfight ahead.

All his life, he had known that what he wanted to be was a jet fighter pilot, an airman in the Airforce. Flight had always been fascinating, and fighting in it would always give an adrenaline rush. He had been top of his class, one of the better pilots, though there was always that one with the ego who happened to have the skills to back it up. He had no idea where Jordan had gone or was up to, but having a guy like that might have made him feel easier about this.

The enemy were conservative in their fire, not taking shots unless they seemed absolutely certain they were going to hit something. Steve's brow twitched as enemy fire scraped against the sides of his jet, leaving scorch marks in the wake but not doing any severe damage. Yet.

With sharp eyes, he did his best to line himself behind one of the enemy fighters, and gave experimental bursts of fire, rapidly-shot bullets whizzing through the air. Maybe it was his imagination, but there could have been sparks from impacts. It was hard to tell, and Steve wasn't going to waste time trying to figure it out.

Pulling the cyclic stick to his right, his aircraft obeyed and the pilot narrowly avoided the return fire from the opposing combatants. The world outside his cockpit tilted, the city of Metropolis taking an interesting angle until he straightened out the jet and increased speed.

Up ahead was another fighter, and Steve made adjustments once to try and get behind this one. Priming the missile launching program, the blond-haired man struggled to keep his target in sight while trying to limit the number of shots fired at him from making direct contact. A small screen displayed a small graphic along with various sets of rapidly decreasing numbers, occasionally increasing when evasive maneuvers were taken. The graphics were two dimensional and green in color, a circle representing his target while two lines on either side of it moved steadily closer to it.

Then the green turned to orange, and screen announcing a shooting solution was had. Without further ado, Steve fired a missile, keeping an eye on its path that was marked only by a thin plume of smoke.

There was a sense of satisfaction when his target erupted into a lovely ball of fire and began falling down. There was no time to worry about the city below where the damaged fighter would go and so there had to be some trust that people would get out of the way of the resulting crash.

Taking a left, the large skull-ship came into view once more, closer now than before. It was like looking at the obvious mothership to an alien invasion, and obviously this thing had to go down to end its threat. Enemy fire passed alongside him, barely scraping the sides of his wings, but that was enough for more evasion. Taking a right might not have been the best idea because closing in was an enemy fighter that was way too close for comfort.

Lowering altitude prevented a midair collision, and another right put the ocean in sight. The pilot continued turning to the right, bringing the skull ship back into sight. Firing random bursts of gunfire, Steve attempted to cause some disruption for a fellow pilot, one that was in the middle of being chased by an enemy fighter. This time he could see the bullets strike the side of the enemy aircraft—spacecraft?—and saw no definitive damage.

Armor plating must be strong enough to resist gunfire. Explosives seem strong enough but a jet can only carry so many. Too many fighters—

An explosion overhead tore through a friendly, the damage jet falling close by and vanishing from sight as soon as it had appeared.

—not enough good guys. And what about the mothership over there?

It seemed simple enough. Take out the mothership, the little guys give up. Maybe too simplistic, but war of attrition in the skies was not a viable strategy. Increasing speed, Steve began a headlong rush towards his next target, one that was big enough that precision wouldn't be needed. Yet.

Arming another missile, he fired as a test, keeping an eye on the projectile while being mindful of other combatants. Almost predictably, and in hindsight, the missile detonated against a force field that happened to be invisible to the naked eye, flashing into existence only when hit. Of course, naturally, should have known it was there.

This was getting familiar, like he had seen this in a movie familiar. As an alarm rang out through the cockpit, Steve made a sharp left, barely dodging the enemy fire that would have struck him. All thinking came to a stop and the world seemed to slow itself as the pilot found himself being chased, an enemy fighter hot on his tail.

Each action was instinctive, sharp turns having him zigzag through the airspace as pursuit continued. The short burst of fire continued to scrape the sides of his jet, giving away the enemy's accuracy. There was no room for error here.

Even as the blond-haired man continued to evade, sharp turns and even a complete, upside down loop made to try and get behind his tail, he searched for something to help end the chase. His pursuer was good, keeping up, and not allowing that loop to throw it off. Stress was creeping up with each second as air tore around the jet, the aircraft shuddering as a shot peeled some of the plating off his right wing.

Suddenly increasing speed, Steve blasted forth, the world about starting to blur at this speed. The sharpness of turns decreased, the cyclic stick began to tremble in his grip as the pilot fought to stay in control. Then he cut through the path of another enemy fighter and barely a second later, the alarm in his cockpit went silent as his pursuer had a midair collision.

As the world began to slow down, both in speed and in perception, Steve had a passing thought that he would have loved to have seen his pursuer's face right before—

His jet rocked, alarms blared, and the unmistakable sound of an explosion reach his ears. Damn, he was hit.

One hand reached for a handle, gripped it, then pulled. The windshield blew off, and then air was rushing downwards as the pilot ejected. Beneath him, his plane passed by, fired roaring from the damaged engines. Gravity would soon reassert itself, and then he was falling, falling, until the parachute unleased.

Well, this was neat. Annoying, but only because it was going to take some time before he could get back into the air. All around, the battle raged, jets and spacecraft dogfighting the living daylights out, gunfire both friendly and enemy whizzing through the air and explosions leaving a nice smell of heat and sulfur behind.

A hum caught his attention, and Steve looked over his shoulder, eyes widening as he saw an enemy fighter heading straight in his direction, incoming. Well, this day just got better didn't it? How high was he...high enough to go splat if he released his chute. Damn, this wasn't his day, was it?

Once again, luck changed, this time coming in the form of something strong that packed a punch. Blue eyes widened as a very familiar red, blue, and gold clad woman with the most luscious black hair imaginable struck the side of the enemy spacecraft, causing quite a dent in it and sending it way off course.

Diana always did know how to make an entrance.

Then, almost predictably, the Amazonian princess began heading straight for him, grabbing the seat that he was still strapped to and pulling down. Not even the resistance of the parachute was able to withstand Diana's strength, but that was only an afterthought. Bullets and freaky alien energy continued to whiz about the air, so remaining in the thick of it wasn't a good idea, thus why Steve made on objection to any of this.

However, that didn't stop him from saying, "Diana."

"Steve," the Amazon responded, a small form of greeting that he found she was getting so much better at.

He was brought to a rooftop where his ejected seat was placed, Immediately, he began unstrapping, even as the dark-haired woman was beginning to rise back up into the air.

He wanted to say something else, something more. However, the hurt that he still felt, inflicted by the knowledge that the woman he helped bring to this world was willing to withhold secrets from him held him back. It was one thing when it involved some Greek mythology shit that happened to spring up here and there—mythology had never been his thing anyway—but this current situation, and the promise of joining forces once more being dashed, that was too recent and personal.

Was there any hesitation that the flying woman was feeling? Was she heading back into battle slower than usual? Or was that just something his mind was making up? Regardless, it felt as if there was something between them, separating them in a way that Themiscyra never could.

Maybe it could be settled later, but for now, he needed to find another set of wings and get back up there. This fight was far from finished.

As the fighter flew right for him, J'onn did not feel fear. He just hovered above the battered city of Metropolis, watching as the ship closed in on him.

At the last moment, he went translucent and phased right through the craft as it rushed into him. Passing through the ship, he allowed his hand to become tangible and he grabbed what appeared to be a power core. The moment he did, he became intangible again, along with the core. The next moment passed and he was back in open air, becoming tangible as he held the power core. Behind him, the ship began to wobble before it began dropping from the sky.

Tossing the core away, the Martian looked up to the larger skull ship. Even now he could see more of the smaller fighters being released, an obvious response to the government aircrafts that were engaging the aerial forces.

All around him he could see American F-18s in dogfights, shooting down the alien ships even as their own numbers took losses. To the east he caught sight of Diana ramming her way through another couple of ships, destroying them in bursts of flames. He had lost sight of Hawkgirl, but she was still engaged with the enemy. As for Batman…

J'onn frowned. Even as he searched with his mind, he could not detect the dark-clad man. How strange. Though Batman had always kept his thoughts closely guarded, the Martian was able to sense him. Now though, it was as if he knew the man was here, but yet he could not confirm that.

This had never happened before.

Pausing for a moment, J'onn allowed his eyes to become white before he fired his Martian Vision, the white beams coming into contact with another attacking ship, destroying in right then and there.

Once that was done, he turned to the tried-and-true method of physically looking. Rotating to his left, he searched for the uniquely shaped Batwing until he found it towards the south. It was firing one of its missiles, one that followed a fighter ship until it made contact, destroying it.

At least he knew the vigilante was still okay. Figuring out why he could not sense the man could be dealt with at a later time. It was entirely possible he had just fortified his already impressive mental defenses; that was not outside the scope of possibility.

However, because J'onn had been searching for his comrades, something in the background caught his eye. Frowning, he began floating in the direction he had last seen the Batwing, though he wasn't purposefully trying to find it. Though appearing distracted, he was not oblivious to not one, but two fighters setting their attention on him, both flying at him from either side. Stopping, he patiently waited before becoming intangible, just in time for each spacecraft's weapons to fire at him. Each blast went through him harmlessly.

Then the Martian rapidly flew upward, which caused both incoming crafts to fly right into each other, causing a large explosion.

Returning to tangibility, J'onn continued on his journey. At first, he thought he had lost what he had seen, perhaps even just thought he had seen shadows jumping.

But then he caught sight of another. There, small in comparison to the fighters, was a drone. Unlike the other crafts, it appeared to be actively avoiding conflict. What more, it was drifting away from the fighting, heading towards the city limits.

Eyes narrowing, J'onn continued after the drone. Until now the drones had sought out conflict. This was a clear difference in behavior.

Whatever the reason for this, he would not allow it to continue.

Picking up his pace, he ignored the fighting around him as he closed in on the retreating drone. A couple of fighter ships tried to get in his way and he increased his density to the point that his body took on a solid, metallic look. Due to his speed, he slammed into, and then ripped through those ships much like a wrecking ball through a building. Their subsequent explosions occurred moments later, as if the ships were unsure what to do and then gave into destruction.

Reaching the outer city, the Martian found the drone landing in the middle of a street. It ignored the rush of traffic as the city's citizens fled, settling down on the center stripe of the road. Even stranger, it didn't attempt to attack the cars or fleeing people on foot.

This was becoming more and more odd.

Then a faded green light formed around the drone, creating a sphere. A passing car shied away from this light immediately, as if touching it would be death. Several other cars did the same until one just ran headfirst into it. Instead of passing through the light, the front of the car crumpled and the car went spinning away, crashing into other passing cars.

J'onn narrowed his eyes. It appeared these drones had force fields.

Retrieving the EMP device, he approached the shielded drone. Coming to a stop a few feet away from it, he pointed the device at the robot and pushed the trigger.

A few seconds went by and nothing happened. The shield did not go away. However, the cars around the drone suddenly shut off, rolling forward due to momentum. Frowning, J'onn stared at them before he released the trigger, then pushed it again.

Again, the shield did not go down. Other cars shut down around him like the previous time. It was then the Martian felt as if something were wrong and he knew just what. This green shield, it was preventing the EMP from affecting the drone. He had not counted on this turn of events.

Immediately, he shot up higher into the air. He needed to find another drone and quickly. If this shield was a counter to the EMP, then they needed to find a counter to the shield. Deep inside, he felt as if something was coming and he was unsure of what that was.

But he fully expected that it was something that was not good.

The blasts shot past the cockpit. Batman merely glanced at them before he pulled the stick to the left, his flying wing instantly making the turn.

From what his radar was showing, he had a couple bogies on his tail. Not exactly a good thing, but he wasn't panicking. That was a good way to make a wrong move and get shot down. Keeping a cool mind would serve him better.

However, these ships were proving a little difficult to shake off. A barrel roll hadn't work. Attempting to loop above them had fared the same as the barrel roll. Zig-zagging had kept him from getting shot down so far, but that would only last for so long before the enemy pilots figured out a pattern or began working in tandem with each other. What the vigilante needed to do was get behind them and run them off, preferably shooting them down.

Turning the stick to the right, his jet slid in that direction, even as a few more of those alien beams shot by. Glancing down to the radar, he saw he had a bogie to the left and right of his own aircraft, leaving a narrow gap between them.

Now there was an idea. It was a risky one and had a high probability of taking him and at least one of those spacecrafts out, but at the various least that was one less fighter to shoot down the government fighter jets or the Justice League.

Alright, let's see what they do.

Moving a hand to the dashboard, he began flicking a series of switches, which resulted in the engine slowing down. The fire that came out the exhaust port shrank and his speed began to plummet. Momentum kept him flying forward.

Batman then yanked on the stick hard to the left and his feet pressed down on a pedal on the floor, which caused the dark jet to start flipping to the left. Due to the enemy fighters maintaining their speed, they caught up to him in seconds. As the left wing of the jet pointed skyward and the right to the city below, the two spacecrafts shot right by him.

Heh, that had worked splendidly.

Immediately, he was flicking the same switches in the opposite direction, his engine revving back to life and the fire from the exhaust blasting out. His targeting system honed in on the two space crafts.

Suddenly, both crafts shot in opposite directions. Damn, he was being forced to choose. Jerking the stick to the left, he kept on that one, his targeting system once again honing on it until it got a lock. Firing a missile, he watched it fly towards its target, detonating once it made contact and caused a large fireball to consume the enemy craft.

Keeping the stick to the left, he began to circle around, just in time to see the other spacecraft rushing towards him, opening fire. Immediately, the vigilante pushed the stick forward and his jet went downward, dodging the lasers and causing the enemy fighter to fly above him. He then pulled back hard on the stick and began going into a flip, his world appearing upside down, yet having the fighter ship in sight. He promptly opened fire with the machine guns, watching as the bullets tore into the ship until it exploded.

Quickly, Batman righted his aircraft. All of this dog fighting was getting tiresome. Doing a system's check, he found minimal damage to his jet. A weapon's check, unfortunately, saw he was beginning to run low on missiles. The bullets were about half of what he came in with.

That's when an alarm went off. Immediately the dark-clad man looked to the radar, seeing it zooming out of his immediate area until a red triangle appeared at the edge, somewhere to his left. There were other shapes, such as red circles for the space fighters and squares for the government fighter jets. The triangle must have a different tag.

Angling his jet to the left, he went in search of the mysterious ship. He didn't have long to search though as he located it rather quickly. It was coming from the northwest and appeared on its own. Hitting a couple buttons on the dashboard, a small square image appeared on the windshield. Within the image was a closer look at the aircraft, one that Batman recognized as the prototype pseudo-Javelin from LexCorp.

What the hell was Luthor doing?

Closing the image, Batman then opened up his comm link. "Attention all Justice League," he hailed. "I've spotted Luthor's prototype Javelin approaching the battle. He's coming from the northwest."

"What the hell is Luthor doing?" Flash immediately responded back. "Is he trying to take on all of these guys by himself?"

"Or maybe he's trying to take advantage of the situation," Hawkgirl replied. Batman was inclined to agree with that train of thought. No doubt Luthor saw an opportunity and was dead set on taking advantage of it.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Batman said over the comm. "The rest of you keep up with your objectives."

Arching his ship, Batman made to circle around the incoming aircraft. Sooner or later Luthor would show his hand and the vigilante was going to make sure that it wouldn't hurt the League or the battling government jets. The stacks were too high to let some egomaniac bumble his way into a pitch-out battle.

Luthor paid no mind to the chaos just outside the titanium walls. Instead, his attention was focused on the computerized gauntlet he wore, tapping onto the small keypad. All necessary programs were up and running, and it was time to put this plan into action.

The first thing to do was gain digital access to this alien ship. This required both the hacking and translation program Happersen had developed. As he had predicted, when utilizing the hacking program, the language that had come up had been the same one that had been found in the robot's programming. There needed to be a delay of several seconds in order to use the translation program; there was no point in trying to hack when you couldn't understand the information being presented to you.

These were some very good firewalls. Someone knew a thing or two about programming. However, he was Lex Luthor, and firewalls would fall before him no matter how long it took.

Beside him, Mercy piloted the nameless prototype, completely calm and concentrating on her task. It was a feat of the engineering department that the sensation of being jerked side to side was barely felt, but that didn't mean it was completely compensated for. Sometimes a sharp turn had to be made, and that would slightly interfere with the bald CEO's concentration.

When he would be disturbed, that was when he would speak up. "Steady, Mercy."

The only sign his bodyguard heard him was the tightening of her jaw. Thumbs pressed down on buttons alongside the steering device, and if one were to peer through the windshield, the sign of ammunition would be seen lightening up the area.

The rounds were heavy, damage-dealers because when it came to weaponry, that was one area Luthor refused to cut corners on. It must be a fantastic show out there, the fighting capabilities of the prototype being put to the test. Occasionally, the light from a fireball erupting from an alien spacecraft would be detected by the tycoon, but for the most part he couldn't be bothered.

The small screen in his gauntlet was alight with so much information and coding, and his fingers were practically jamming the buttons on the small keypad. The firewalls were being stubborn; translation was taking too long. However, while trying on his patience, it did not mean that he would let his frustration get to him.

Mercy made a sharp turn, causing Luthor to pause in his work. A part of him wanted to give a reprimand, but that was tempered by his discipline. Empathy for his employee to keep them alive was nonexistent. If she did it again, there would be words, but for the moment, his priorities were required elsewhere.

As a piece of translated code appeared on the small screen, the CEO narrowed his eyes slightly, tapping several keys quickly. The programs were finding something, a gap in the defenses. Luthor allowed a small smile to curve his lips. Finally, some progress. Now...wait.

The proverbial gap closed up, covered up with line after line of complex code. The ship's defenses were quicker than he had anticipated.

But he was far from discouraged.

Next time, there would be no hesitation. If he found another point of entry, it would be exploited, so long as Mercy kept everything steady so that he wasn't distracted.

In the meantime, all he needed was patience.

It was an almost perfect circle on the screen. Brainiac watched it, barely moving while Superman tried his best once again to break from his restraint.

Once again, he failed. Weakness continued to grip his body, denying him the strength he had always known.

Letting his head sink slightly, or as much as the bioshell would allow, the Kryptonian wracked his mind desperately, hoping to somehow stop what was coming. Physical force was not an option, and so far pleas and begging did not reach the green alien's conscience. Did Brainiac ever have one?

"Establishment of perimeter is one hundred percent complete," Brainiac announced. This caused the restrained male to look up, blue eyes watching the alien warily.

"Don't do this," Superman tried one more time. "You don't...you don't need to do this."

"It is not a matter of need, son of Jor-El, that prompts me to take these actions," Brainiac retorted. "This is inevitability. I would have found this planet eventually, and the actions you have watched would have occurred. All that is different is that my acquisition was chronically advanced."

"But…"

"Save your strength, Kryptonian." The interruption was as swift as it was brutal. "You have no power here." Brainiac's posture straightened more, as if that was possible, and his shoulders squared. "Proceed with acquisition."

As the order was given, Superman's eyes widened with desperation. "No!" he cried, struggling once more and failing again to free himself.

On the holographic screen, the outline of the circle changed in color.

A certain number of drones had broken off from the fighting. It hadn't been noticeable from the beginning, but when those drones all turned outward from the center of the city, it might have garnered some attention if one was paying attention.

The yellow color of their dome-shaped heads changed to a light green, and arms raised up until they were perpendicular with the bodies, parallel with the ground. They completely disengaged from everything, ignoring people, ignoring battle, ignoring panic.

The green glow of the skull-designed heads began to intensify, then green energy began to expand, lining against the robotic bodies then extending out. At this point, it was difficult not to notice something was up.

J'onn was one of the first. Pulling away, the Martian gazed at the unusual behavior, becoming alarmed as the green energy continued to grow. Whatever could this mean? Based on everything they were able to find out, anything that did not fit with their prior experiences.

This certainly did not fit.

There were times to act, and then there were times to observe. The Martian chose the latter of the two, watching this latest development and trying to uncover what the purpose of it was.

The green energy emitted by each drone continued to spread out, moving out from the sides of the robots until energy met approaching energy. To J'onn's surprise, the energy melded together until there was nothing but a solid wall of energy. Then the stoic Martian saw that there was another direction the solidifying energy was going.

Up,

"Hey, anybody have any idea what this is? I'm hitting it but I'm not getting through!" Flash reported in. "I'm punching. I'm hitting. I'm hitting at close to full speed. Wait, let me try…. Nope, I can't vibrate through this thing. What is it?"

"Keep trying, Flash. Hit it harder!" Hawkgirl responded.

Meanwhile, the growing wall of energy continued to rise higher and higher into the air. J'onn's proverbial gut began to warn him that despite all this, something bigger was at play. Then he noted the curve…

These robots! They had all lined up! Their positions had been deliberate so that they could begin this!

Concentrating, the Martian enhanced his body, making it heavier, stronger. Directing himself downwards, he rushed towards the nearest robot, swinging his fist forth with a mighty effort, and striking the automaton. His arm trembled, bouncing off the surface and tremors continued to run up and down the limb. There was nothing to show for his efforts

Shifting his molecular structure, he attempted to slip into the robot, planning on tearing apart the internal circuitry, except for once he was unable to penetrate. Surprise consumed him; this hadn't happened before. Intangibility always meant that he had access to many areas, including the ones no one wished for him to be in.

To be denied…

"Target the robots! Quickly!" he roared into his communicator. "However you can, we have to stop them!"

Above, the wall of energy climbed higher and higher.

It had been slow, and almost unnoticed. However, now, all attention was on it. All around Metropolis, a green-colored field of energy surrounded the city. It was a perfect circle as the light cut through buildings at seemingly random angles. Shayera just happened to be on the outside looking in and only saw a green-tinged city.

However, she was low enough for her hawk-like eyes to spot people crowding around various areas of this circular-like shield. Naturally these crowds were where people could gather, like streets and the tops of buildings. People on the outside appeared to be pounding to be allowed through the shield even as people on the opposite side fought to get out of it. That was an odd thing to see until she realized it was most likely people trying to help the others trapped, be it family, friends, or total strangers.

It wasn't until the Thanagarian found a more intimate sight, that of a woman and a child. Both were beating on the shield, the shrill cries of the child on the outside reaching her ears. The woman—the mother she assumed—had her mouth opening and closing, just like the child, but no sound was reaching the redhead's ears.

The very sight told Shayera just how bad this looked and was. A child was helpless, separated from his mother. Too many bad things could happen to him without her protection. On the flip side, the same could be said of the mother. While she wasn't familiar with the good and bad parts of Metropolis—let's face it, every city had those areas, even the shining bastion of the City of Tomorrow—she couldn't take that chance.

Descending, Shayera landed a short distance behind the child, sure to put herself in the view of the mother. The woman spotted her almost immediately and mouthed, "Thank God," before resuming her pounding. The child was oblivious to the winged woman.

That was until the mother began pointing over and over. It took the little boy several moments, but then he eventually turned around. He spotted the heroine quickly, but seemed to cower away from her. Shayera wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

However, she did slowly approach him, making sure to keep both of her hands out in front of her. "It's okay," she said as soothingly as she could. "It's alright. I'm here to help."

The child whimpered, pressing himself up against the shield.

"Is that your mom?" she tried again. "Can you tell me if that's your mom?"

"Yes," the boy managed to squeak out.

"I can help you get back to her," she said. "I'm just going to come up to the shield, alright? I promise, I won't hurt you."

The child didn't respond.

Slowly, Shayera approached the shield until she was right next to it, the boy perhaps a foot or two away. Which was alright since she didn't want to terrify him anymore than he already was. Cautiously, she pressed a hand on the shield. Despite it seeming to look made of light, it was solid to the touch. Keeping her hand against it, she drew her other hand back and made it into a fist. Then she punched the shield as hard as she could.

Pain shot up her arm, though Shayera ignored it. It wasn't any different from punching a wall when she was angry, so it was a minor nuisance at best. At least she knew her physical strength wouldn't be enough.

"Little boy," she then said to the child. "I'm going to try something, okay. But to do it, I need you to step away from the shield and get behind me. Can you do that?"

The boy by now was watching her with wide eyes. At first he didn't budge, not until Shayera urged, "I need you to be behind me. What I'm about to do might break this shield and I don't want you to get hurt. Please, get behind me."

She then looked to the mother and began gesturing to her, pointing a finger at the boy and moving the same finger behind her, all the while placing her other hand on her shaft of her mace. Thankfully the mother got her meaning and began gesturing for the boy to do as was asked of him. Slowly, the boy began to move away from the force field creeping in a large arch until he was behind the Thanagarian.

Shayera then got into a stance, holding her mace up in the air. Electricity began to dance all over the weapon's head as she gripped both hands on the shaft. "Haaaaa!' she shouted as she swung the mace, slamming it against the shield.

Unlike her fist, the shield responded. At first it seemed to bend from the blow before it pushed back, a ripple spreading outward before returning back to the impact site. Oh great, this thing absorbed force.

Glancing to the mother and boy, she saw them watching her expectantly. She honestly couldn't give up after one blow, even if she knew what she was dealing with. At the very least, they needed to feel some kind of hope.

So she drew her mace back and began to wail on the force field with everything she had.

The Justice League fought to no success. A.R.G.U.S. began turning its missiles onto the green-glowing wall, but ended up with the same results. A safe distance away, Luthor watched through the windshield of the Lancer, completely distracted by the sight. Even his progress on hacking had come to an abrupt stop.

He had never seen anything like this before.

It was a force field, it had to be based on its appearance. Currently, it was starting to curve, forming a half-spherical top. It was rapidly closing up, separating everything on the inside from the outside.

The skull-designed spaceship descended, its long tentacle-like appendages stretching out until they placed themselves on top of the green force field. It was quite the sight to behold, and instinct all but said that whatever came next would be monumental. All you could do was watch, powerlessly, as fate, destiny, or wild scheme came to fruition.

The inside of the force field began to glow brighter, energies within beginning to distort everything inside. Luthor felt his heart rate increase, his eyes widening as the large section of Metropolis contained within the shield became distorted and blocking off by shimmering power.

It was over in an instant. As light intensified to its greatest extent, it all shot upwards and into the skull ship, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Silence, and an enormous, circular crater with the smoothest sides ever seen stretching downwards and vanishing into a black abyss.

"NO!" the CEO cried out, pushing forward in his seat, and held back only by the straps of his safety harness.

Metropolis had a gaping hole in it. Land, city infrastructure, people, all of it gone. Most of it had been his property, his people, his Metropolis.

Gone. All gone.

Horror, shock, and anxiety soon gave way to anger. Not an explosive kind, but one that boiled and crushed beneath the surface, gathering pressure before detonating in a rage that was feared by all but a boy scout. Speaking of…

Luthor broke the silence that had fallen between him and Mercy, the constant hum of the prototype long since ignored. "This is a job for Superman…"

He felt Mercy turn towards him, her eyes saying only that she was waiting for him to finish. Luthor turned to look back at her, his green eyes filled with undying hatred and rage.

"...so where the hell is he?!"

Author's Note: That last line of Luthor's is one ripped off from an equally great story, Forever Evil. That storyline really made me warm up to Luthor, and I would recommend it for some entertaining reading. I find the line very fitting for this powerful moment at the League's latest failure.