Chapter 1: Failed Attempt

The conference room was modern. The conference table was a light oak and the chairs were black leather and very comfortable. A huge monitor was built into one of the walls and a projector hung from the tile ceiling. The sound system, lights and projector were all controlled by a lectern to one corner of the screen. The walls were painted a cream color – to even a casual observer it was the result of a generic government paint contract. There were no windows in the large room but, as if to compensate, large photographs of various landscapes around the country were hanging along the other three walls.

The conference table had chairs for 20 around it but only half that number was filled. They were seated towards the end with the screen. A short, stocky woman was sitting at the head of the table. Everything about her suggested power. Amanda Waller stared at the rest of the assembled group with a mix of boredom and frustration. The other members, who came weekly to update Waller on various projects, had finished their reports and were waiting with a mix of anticipation and dread for her verdict.

She shuffled some pages in front of her and then looked at the assembled group.

"It seems like we are progressing quite well on several fronts," she said not actually looking at anyone. "However, we have had to pull budget from one project. 'Project Empower' has faced too many obstacles since its inception. Dr. Kyle Westan and his team will be reassigned to another project. I need all other team heads needing additional members to send me a brief memo listing what they require. Thank you, that is all."

Dr. Kyle Westan had managed to keep a straight face when he was told that his project had been killed. He hoped that it gave the other meeting participants the impression that he had already known that project funding had been cut. He realized that he should have known. His project had faced several roadblocks but while the others were getting up and leaving, he stayed in his chair. However, a public execution seemed over the top.

Waller didn't say anything to him as the others were leaving, but she didn't leave her seat either. When they were alone and the door was closed, Waller arched an eyebrow at Westan. He took that as his cue.

"I would like one more try to get the material I need," he said calmly. "I have a plan in motion that, if successful, would solve our supply issue."

Waller looked at him. The fact was that she had really wanted his project to succeed. She also knew, objectively, that it was not Westan's fault that it was having so many problems. However, the project had gotten them dangerous close to being discovered by the Justice League and they were not ready for that just yet. Waller would have liked to think that they would never be discovered by the League but that just wasn't going to happen. But the longer they could delay the inevitable, the happier she would be.

"I am not going to agree to have a member of the League held indefinitely," she said smoothly.

Mild annoyance flashed over Westan's face which he quickly vanished. He only answered when his long, narrow face and brown eyes were all emotionless.

"Of course not," he answered smoothly. "Fifteen minutes under complete sedation. A little longer if not. My goal is to return the subject before anyone else misses her. We never had enough of a sample to successfully reproduce supply in the amount we need."

"And yet," Waller answered with a bit of anger in her voice. "I've had three bodies to deal with. I want an outline of your plan and an update on your research and your plans for the supply. You do anything before I get and approve those items; I will have no problems disposing of a fourth body. If that is clear, you may go."

Westan nodded and left. Waller stared at some of the photographs for a moment. It was a sign of weakness to give his team another chance. However, the possibility of some sort of "power boost" which would give metapowers to people and solve the cloning issue was well worth it. But she made a mental note to follow-up with him if the materials were not on her desk in three days. Westan did believe in the old adage that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

In her case, that was simply not true.

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Diana – known as both Princess of Themyscira and Wonder Woman – had a day off. She hadn't had one in quite a while and she had planned it very carefully. It would be a "body, mind and spirit" day. Vixen and some of the other League women had convinced her to get a pedicure, then she was going to a special exhibit on Ancient Egypt at the art museum and then she was going to go to the park near the museum to meditate. Then, she was going to meet Bruce for dinner. Assuming his schedule didn't alter too much between now and then.

She walked towards the salon in an excellent mood. The sun was shining; the temperature was warm enough that she could wear a pair of jeans and a bright red tank top. The flip flops that the other League members told her she had to wear to the salon were annoying her a little, but not enough to spoil the peace of the day. Diana was happy.

Although she didn't notice because she never looked for those things, the most beautiful woman on the planet walking confidently down the street with a small smile on her face was turning some heads. For those who weren't looking for the pleasure of watching her walk away from them, the metal bracelets made it obvious to most who the woman was.

She did notice, however, the young boy sitting on a street bench that stood between her and the salon. He was trying hard to appear casual, but he was tapping his feet and looking around a little too quickly. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt that was too warm for the weather and as a result, he was sweating. He had both hands in the pockets in the front of the sweatshirt and Diana could see a strangely shaped bulge in the middle of the pockets.

Diana immediately did an assessment of the area. There were no banks on the block nor expensive jewelry stores. There was the salon were she had her appointment, three fast-service restaurants of various kinds, a coffee shop and a large vintage clothing store. Seeing nothing that was an obvious target for a robbery, she continued towards the salon. Then she saw the boy stand up, remove a rock from his sweatshirt and threw it at her.

She caught it.

It was only as she began to crush the rock that she realized it was a piece of kryptonite. The boy looked at her, clearly watching her reaction.

"I believe you have me confused with someone else," she said gently before closing the distance between them and grabbing the hood of his sweatshirt as he tried to run away.

"Let me go! I didn't do anything!" he screamed.

In response to that, she lifted him a few inches off the ground. He grew still and silent instantly. The people, who were watching her earlier, suddenly started watching their feet as they walked past.

"Well now, that is only true because I'm neither Superman nor Supergirl," she said maintaining a friendly but serious tone. "But what I want to know is where you got that rock. It wasn't something you just picked up."

"Some guy paid me $50 to throw the rock at you," came the anguished reply. "I hadn't seen him before. He gave it to me."

"What was suppose to happen then?" she asked.

"If you fell over, I was supposed to drag you to this bench and leave. If you didn't, I was supposed to run away. I got to keep the money either way."

Diana nearly dropped the boy to check the surrounding area but the chances of someone sticking around at this point were about zero and the area was too busy to start randomly grabbing people. She sighed; some of the joy of her day off was gone. Although, she thought with a smile, someone who paid so little attention that they offered some kid $50 to throw kryptonite at her was probably not worth worrying about. Although she decided she ought to mention it to Superman and Supergirl so they would be more careful.

"I am letting you go," she said but did not actually put him back on the ground, "for two reasons. The first is that I can think of 16 things wrong with that plan and I'm not trying hard. The second is I believe you have learned your lesson about money that comes a little too easily. Have you?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! I have. I am sorry." His voice reduced to a hush. "Although I was pretty sure that nothing would happen to you."

She smiled and put him down. He ran off. Diana entered the salon for her appointment with many more things on her mind than she had hoped.

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All of the League members had a mailbox in the Watchtower. Batman, who had finally given in to Superman and put them in, thought they were a waste of time. The assumption of receiving fan mail was arrogant. League-wide announcements could easily be delivered in another format. However, every time he stopped by the tower, he would check his box just before he left – throwing the occasional flyer unread into the recycling container. He had thought about just never looking at it, but then he realized that if he was ever called on missing something, someone could prove that he had, in fact, received it.

This was the first time he had ever received something that was not All-League. It was a booklet-sized white envelope, one easily purchased at any office supply store anywhere. His address was printed on a white mailing label on an ink-jet printer, both of which could be purchased at any office supply store. He opened it only because he knew the security protocols that the mail went through. He had personally made sure if mail was going to arrive in the Watchtower that every security scan was run while still protecting the privacy of what was inside. However nothing living (down to the virus) was getting through and thousands of chemicals and compounds were scanned and neutralized.

As there were League members coming and going, he carried the envelope out and made his way to the transporter pad to be returned to the Batcave.

Once in the silence and privacy of the Batcave, he opened the envelope. Inside was a single color photograph of him and Diana kissing outside the asylum. It was taken less than 10 feet away from where they had stood. He remembered the kiss and the evening but could not believe he had let his guard so far down that someone could take photographs.

There was a plain white card attached with a basic paperclip that printed on the same printer as the label said "If researching dollars in Kasnia continue to interest you, we will take an interest in her."

He sat, stunned for a moment as his emotions fought for control. Rage, fear and self-loathing all raced through his mind. After several moments, logic took back control.

He activated his communicator. In case he needed to call on instant medical assistance, he used an open line. A small beep occurred every few seconds to let everyone know that any League member could hear the conversation.

"Wonder Woman, this is Batman. What is your status?" he asked, working hard to keep his voice bland.

"I am in the Gotham Museum of Fine Art looking at the Cleopatra of Egypt exhibit," she whispered. "I can be airborne in five minutes."

He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he exhaled at the sound of her voice. She was in no pain. She certainly was not scared.

"There have been rumors of some mild conflicts in that area. Have you noticed anything?" he asked.

"Actually, yes, there was a rock throwing incident earlier, about a mile east of here. It was isolated and I did not find it significant. Was it?"

"Perhaps. I will cross-reference that with my other information," he said darkly.

"I'll alert you if something else happens," Wonder Woman said.

"Contact me when you return to the Watchtower. I will go there to discuss this with you," he said and signed off.

Then he contacted Alfred on the intercom.

"Dinner tonight will be for one tonight," he said.

"Very good, sir," came the prim response.

Batman waited. He knew Alfred too well. That wasn't actually going to be all.

"If I may, is the Princess in good health?" Alfred asked gently.

"She is." Suddenly, an idea struck. "Alfred, I must admit I don't know what you are making. Any way it could successful transport to the Watchtower?"

"Certainly, sir. For one or for two?"

"Two."

"Very good sir," Alfred said. The words might have been a repeat but Alfred's entire tone changed. Although it remained formal, he was clearly happier with that answer. Batman repressed a small smile. Although he was usually annoyed by Alfred's obvious interest and occasional meddling with his relationship with Wonder Woman, he knew it was a sign of Alfred's affection for them both.

As he was making a few additional arrangements for his plan, he found himself looking back at the photograph. His mood darkened. There was only one thing he could do. But he would not, under any circumstances, let someone use her to get to him.