Author's Note:

Most chapters won't come this quickly, I admit, but I already had the idea mostly down, so it came out relatively easily.

This is the first part of a six-part story. I hope, if you are reading, it comes across as okay. If you've any comments or questions, please let me know, the same if you see any errors. As aforementioned, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

I do not own any DC characters.

As far as Don could tell, the argument had been started over a song, of all things.

One minute, he was listening to "Billy Don't Be a Hero," and the next, all Hell had broken loose.

"It's this type of garbage that could hurt our boys overseas," Hank yelled furiously, his face beet red. "If we don't show support, if we don't let it known we're backing them up, how will they find the will to keep fighting on?"

"Listen," Don replied, swiftly, yet as calmly as possible, "me playing a song here isn't going to negatively impact the soldiers in Afghanistan, I promise. Just calm down," he said in exasperated. It's always the same argument again and again, Don thought, a headache already beginning to come over him.

"It's not only the damn song, Don," Hank shouted, causing a few housemates to glance to the room (though they were admittedly used to hearing the two brothers bicker). "Right now, soldiers overseas are risking their lives to protect your freedom, and you don't have the respect to play something a bit more patriotic?"

Keeping his face straight, though Don felt his brother sounded ridiculous, he replied "I've never been a big fan of Lee Greenwood."

"This isn't a joke," the older brother growled. "I don't understand how you can spit in the faces of those protecting you."

"I've told you before, Hank," Don replied, dragging his right hand haphazardly through his blond hair, "which move protects the troops more: sending them over to some foreign country to die, or ensuring that it doesn't come to warfare and keeping them here, away from bombs and grenades?"

"You unpatriotic punk-"

"Yo, Hank, Don, check this out," yelled the voice of Malcolm, one of their housemates.

Immediately dropping their dispute, they both ran to the living room. Don saw six other people staring at the television, and instantly knew that whatever it was, it wasn't likely to be positive news.

"Looks like the Aiken Center is on fire. Some guys torched the place a few minutes ago," Malcolm filled them in, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Don glanced over at his brother, and saw that he was on the same page. "Hey, we need to go check on some friends. Be back in a bit," the younger brother said, following behind Hank, who had already began running out of the house.

"Hank, hold up," Don yelled, holding his hand out. "We need to strategize."

Hank did so, looking back, annoyance on his face. "How about this: you go make sure everyone got out of the building, and I go after the arsonists."

Don nodded. "That all I wanted. Dove!"

"Hawk!"

Where stood two college students now stood Hawk and Dove, already separating, Dove sprinting down the road to the Aiken Center, Hawk going for a vantage point on the situation, hopefully making it easier to scope out the perpetrators.

It's a Saturday, thank God, Dove considered, knowing the center wasn't likely to be packed. Still, there's the odd man out who might want to get work out of the way. I just hope most people already left the building.

A crowd of students and faculty alike stood around the burning building. Dove saw a few individuals who had scorched clothing. He ran up to them, hoping the appearance of a hero on the scene didn't completely throw them off their game.

"Hey, you kids, do you know if anyone didn't get out," Dove asked urgently.

"Um, I think everyone's," one of them began, then muttered a swear word. "I think there were a few guys on the second floor. I'm not sure, though."

"Thanks," Dove called over his shoulder, rushing to the side entrance of the building. Luckily I already hear sirens. Shouldn't be more than a minute until they get here.

Even so, he knew for the time being, as entered the already inferno-esque building, he was alone.

Hawk leaped onto the dumpster in front of him and scrambled onto the top of the building, surveying the chaotic scene in front of him.

Almost a hundred students were circling the Aiken Center, some crying, others looking around, as if lost. Three fire trucks were trying to pull in, though they were slowed by the increasing amount of people pouring onto the scene to witness the fire.

"Hey, you imbeciles, move," Hawk shouted, catching not only the attention of the students in question, but also of three individuals dressed conspicuously in black, all carrying duffel bags, also gazing at the inflamed construction. Once eye contact was made, Hawk knew he had his guys.

What's with arsonists anyways, Hank thought, making a running jump off the building toward the crowd, seeing the men in black bolting already, sticking around after setting a fire just to watch it burn. It's like asking to be caught.

Not bothering to answer questions fired his way by onlookers, Hawk rushed after the three men, greatly bothered by the impedance caused by the crowd.

"Stop those three," he yelled to no one in particular, and as he expected, no one reacted to his plea.

"Damn it," he muttered, pushing himself to run faster. On the upside, Hank considered, at least I can still see them. If they had split up or something…

And so he ran, gaining ground slowly, yet knowing this probably wasn't going to be as easy as he had first thought.

Dove wasn't one to generally lose his cool, but in the midst of heavy flames around him, he was beginning to feel panicked, not to mention a bit on the overheated side.

No one's yelling for help, at least from what I can hear, he rapidly thought, bounding up the stairs carefully to the second floor. Maybe those guys managed to get out or-

"Hey, can anyone hear us," a loud voice called nearby. "We're in here – someone's passed out. Please," the call ended in desperation.

Without thought, Dove darted down the hall, the heat growing more intense the farther he went.

Reaching the room in question, and seeing fire blocking the entrance, Dove shouted, "Hold on, guys. I'll get you out soon. Just hang on."

He saw a fire extinguisher approximately forty yards away, and with a sigh, he hurried toward it.

As it turned out, the arsonists weren't completely foolish to Hawk's frustration.

After chasing them down for two minutes, they split up in three different directions. Without much hesitation, he went after the slowest, and minutes later, tackled him to the ground.

"Stand down," Hawk commanded, authority dripping out of every syllable.

His captured assailant did just that, lying limp on the ground as Hawk's knee pressed into his back.

"Why'd you torch the Aiken Center," Hank asked, twisting the man's left arm back. "You'll want to answer me; I assure you."

"Shove it up your a-"

"Wrong answer, buddy," Hawk replied, followed by a crack and a newly-broken arm.

Dove tossed the used extinguisher aside and walked gingerly into the room, happy to see the only fire near them was at the opposite side. A group of three guys were huddled up in the nearest corner, the one in the middle unconscious, but all of them noticeably shaken up.

"Don't worry guys, I'll help get you out," Dove said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "Can you two walk," he asked, motioning to the conscious members.

"Ye-yeah, we can walk," the older of the two replied nervously. "We were just working on a group project and-"

"I know, I know," Dove quickly replied. "But we need to get your friend out of here before this smoke makes it worse. You'll have to help me out. Is that okay?"

"Of course," the same man confirmed, standing up on wobbly legs. He held his hand out to the hero, saying, "Hell of a time to introduce myself, but I'm Darien. Thanks for helping out."

"Dove," the hero replied, smiling despite the building around them burning down, "and no need to thank me. Just trying to do my duty."

"Aw, shut up, punk," Hawk yelled as he carried his otherwise silent arsonist on his shoulders. "Here's the game plan: we go check up on my partner, make sure he's okay. Then you give us the answers we're looking for. If you comply, we just may drop you off at a nearby emergency room."

In all honesty, Hawk was unsure how much of his plan the guy heard, yelping as much as he was, but he seemed to get the basic gist, as he then stopped struggling. Finally, he muttered, "Fine, just hurry up, man. I'm really hurting here."

Goosebumps spread over the whole of the assailant's body as he heard Hawk mutter, more to himself than anyone else, "Be happy it was just one arm, asshole."

It'd only been ten minutes at most, but Dove couldn't remember a time when he'd welcomed the sunlight as much as the present moment. He and Darien helped their unconscious friend out, while the quiet one of the two followed behind, nonetheless glad he lived to see the sun again.

The crowd, not to mention a few firefighters, clapped for the young hero as he emerged from the blaze. A few students even cheered, which, as much as Dove would have wished otherwise, really made him feel good.

After carrying the unconscious young man over to an ambulance, along with a final handshake from Darien and Quentin (He had a deeper voice than I thought, Dan randomly thought as he gladly gripped the young man's hand), it didn't take long for Dove to spot his brother, standing across a street with a man on his shoulders. Dove sighed again. What's he done this time?

"Dove, are you alright," Hawk asked, his voice abnormally worried.

"I'm fine," Dove replied, looking at the man in black clothing Hawk had just dropped to the ground, "it's him I'm worried about. He looks injured."

"He tripped when I was chasing him down and busted his arm, I think," Hawk said, unflustered.

Yeah, and I voted Bush over Gore, Dove thought skeptically, but refrained from badgering his brother at the moment. "We need to get him to one of those ambulances," he began, bending down to help lift the wounded man, "can you lend a hand?"

"No, he's one of the arsonists," Hawk replied adamantly. "After he answers our questions, he gets help."

"Are you insane," Dove hollered angrily, standing back up straight. "We get him help now, and he can answer for his crimes later. Heck, we don't even need to go after the rest of the arsonists; the police can take it from here."

"Now you listen to me-"

"Whoa, whoa, guys, cool your heels. What seems to be the problem?"

The two young men stood starstruck, because out of nowhere came one of the most respected heroes the world has ever seen, especially with recent events in mind – The Flash.

Both Hawk and Dove remained silent, sharing a glance with each other before looking back at the Flash, unsure of what to say. The silence was broken by the man lying on the ground, who happened to scream.

"Uh, guys, don't you think we should get this guy some medical attention? I don't know how you guys do it in Vermont, but down in Central City, if a guy has a broken arm, we generally try to help them out," Flash said, unsure of himself, clearly feeling as though he was missing something.

"Um, Flash, sir," Hawk began, sounding, much to Don's amusement, like a soldier speaking to his superior, "this man has information about two others who torched the Aiken Center," he motioned over his shoulder, "the building behind us. I felt that if we kept him from getting help, he'd be willing to speak to us."

Flash looked over the two younger heroes dubiously. "Uh-huh, right. I have to warn you right now, guys, we don't work that way in the Justice League. I mean, Bats might, but then again he is Batman, so-"

"Justice League," Dove said, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Let's get this guy help, and then we can talk."

Of course, despite Hawk's misgivings, he helped Dove with the injured assailant without so much as a thought.

"The League's expanding, and we thought you might be interested," Flash said simply, a minute after receiving a Coke from the diner counter, oblivious to the amazed looks of other customers. "I was told to come down here, assess you guys in action if possible, and make a judgment call."

The two young men nodded enthusiastically, hanging on every word.

"I only saw Dove when he went into the burning building, but I figured that was enough," Flash continued. "I take it the two of you are an 'all-or-nothing' deal?"

Hawk and Dove looked at each other, and without a word spoken, nodded. "Yes," Hawk firmly stated, "we are. You either get both of us, or neither."

"Hey, that's fine, chill," Flash replied. "I'd definitely say the two of you are ready to join the League. Bravery, strength, conviction. You guys got it. What do you say?"

Don looked over at his brother, and for the second time in the last minute, unspoken communication occurred between the two. They both perfectly knew the answer to give. Hank nodded, allowing Dan to give the official reply.

With two words, the Justice League gained two more members: "We're in."

Angelo Bend yawned, the stakeout going much slower than he had initially anticipated. It was supposed to be an easy, hour-long job, one-day tops. Wait until Mr. and Mrs. Swartz leave their lovely mansion, go in, grab the cache of diamonds, pocket some for himself, and get out. If he had his own way, he'd have just charmed his way onto the premise, but his employer had a very specific mantra, that being 'Don't be seen and don't make a scene equals green.'

He smirked at this. And I thought I've been corny in the past.

Still, the pay was good, and Angelo had few qualms waiting if the payout was worth the wait, and this payout definitely was. Angelo mused, Hell, I might not even pull the costume out. If there's no audience, what's the point?

Sighing, he rubbed a kink out of his neck, then jumped as he heard a knock on his window.

Quickly looking to his side, Angelo saw an older man looking in on him, a monocle in one eye, his glance hard. Wouldn't that be a hoot, he thought wildly, the thief getting robbed outside of the house he's supposed to rob.

The older man tapped again insistently, motioning to the passenger seat. "Believe me, Mr. Bend," the man said, his voice possessing an almost silky quality, "you'll want to let me in."

Angelo hesitated a few seconds before unlocking the vehicle. The older man walked around the front of the car and opened the door, gingerly climbing into the car.

"Thank you, Mr. Bend," the man replied, his voice still soft. The man, Angelo saw, was an older, well-dressed individual. Aside from the monocle, he was wearing a full suit, bow tie and all. His hair was almost solid black, aside from some of it, which was graying. He held his hand out, and Angelo awkwardly shook it after turning toward him.

"My name is Jonathan Cheval, or, if you like Monocle."

This proclamation was followed by a few seconds of silence from the younger man, and then a loud, boisterous laugh. "Monocle," he said incredulously, chuckling almost uncontrollably, "out of every codename and alias I've ever heard in my life, that one has to be up there with Mirror Master and Captain Boomerang. It's just ridiculous."

"That's rich," Monocle replied good-naturedly, "coming from such an individual who thought fit to christen himself Angle Man."

The laughing tapered off quickly.

"Well, what do you want," Angle Man snarled, his friendly disposition having dissipated in the blink of an eye. "I have a job I should be doing, and I don't know if I can afford wasting much time."

"This isn't a waste, I promise you," Monocle replied vaguely. "I'm recruiting for a group of individuals who, with their combined talents, I feel could decimate the Justice League."

Angle Man stared blankly at the man in his passenger seat. "They just beat off a whole alien invasion. You think five guys with a gimmick will throw them off their winning streak?"

"Ah, but you're right," Monocle gently remarked, "they did just defend the world from such an invasion. In fact, if I heard correctly, they even lost a member in the process. They must feel so drained, both physically and emotionally. So very drained," he stressed, a wicked smile forming on his face. "And if, say, five guys with a gimmick, who otherwise never would be able to defeat the Justice League in their prime, gathered together and tackled them in their current state, why, one would almost think those guys with a gimmick would have a fighting chance."

Angle Man took this in relatively quickly, and despite the usual uncertainties he'd have with attempting to take the Justice League down, he felt Monocle made a fair point. This could just work out.

"Well, I have to say," Angle Man began, clearing his throat beforehand, "I think your assessment is pretty spot on, now that I think about it. If I was to join up with you, though, and we fail, then we're in a worse place than we are now."

"Luckily, this is not a matter of utter urgency," Monocle replied, "as the League isn't likely to be much better in three weeks than they are now, but I do have to insist that now would be the best time to strike before they can come up with either a new member or new battle plan. At the moment, fate is on our side, and we may not soon get another chance."

Angle Man nodded. "Yes, yes, I see your point." He twirled his mustache a bit before his next statement. A smile crept on his face, slowly. "Where do we begin?"