2

"Oracle."

"You know, I will never get used to that name," replied the voice from within his cowl's earpiece. "I still think Robin suits me better."

Terry rolled his eyes. "You do realize all the sidekicks who went by that name were boys, right? You have some sort of secret desire I know nothing about?"

"Can it, McGinnis, you're running into dangerous territory."

"Thought that was my job."

The banter was a welcome change to the day's dismal activity. Max had always been one of the more positive aspects of his life, even when she was a pain in the butt. Her sharp wit and curiosity managed to get her out of more trouble than she dived into, and her techo-savvy was something he envied. After Bruce's health began to fail, and he was begrudgingly confined to his bed most days, she had stepped up in the Batcave. Besides Bruce and very few others, he wouldn't trust anyone else to be his eyes and ears.

Rain dripping off his cowl, Terry glared downward into the street below, invisible to the hustle and bustle from his camouflaged perch. He wordlessly watched the young woman making her way into Gotham's leisure district, and he frowned. It had taken Max more than a few hours to track this girl, this mysterious wraith of a person who gave him more than one reason to be suspicious. With every fact his companion ascertained, the more nervous he became. "So what's her story again?"

"None. Nothing. I can't find a match on any Gotham database, the national most wanted, nothing. I've even ran a BG check on the Metropolis bands, and still nothing. It's like she's not even supposed to exist."

"Oracle, this lady was hinting at things she shouldn't have been hinting. Now you're saying she's some Jane Doe from the street? Anything about that seem odd to you?"

"Terry, I'm trying as hard as I can to figure out who she is. Nothing's biting."

He sighed. "That makes me really uncomfortable."

"That makes two of us."

He scowled, refusing to do what he normally would have done, which was to whirl around and start throwing punches. Even with the suit, he wasn't "more powerful than a locomotive". "Shouldn't you be flying circles around Lex Luthor or something? I hear he's out on parole now."

White cape flapping in the wind, Superman crossed his arms, his lips a thinner line than they normally were. "Funny, I thought stalking wasn't Bruce's MO. Or yours."

"You'll forgive me if I don't find that funny."

"How in the world can he see you? Or hear you?" piped up Oracle from his headset.

"He's Superman," Batman whispered. "He could hear a fly buzz from Tokyo."

The elder hero rolled his eyes. "I also have telescopic vision, Maxine. It's so fine-tuned, I could see the disturbances in the air currents that Terry's suit makes. But thoughts aside, what are you doing here, McGinnis?"

Suddenly, compliance seemed less and less appealing. Not that he really cared anyway… "I could ask you the same thing. You like to stalk unsuspecting women too? How things have changed."

Clark grimaced, running a hand through a shock of almost completely white hair. "And you would know all about sneaking around unsuspecting people, now wouldn't you?"

"As much as you would know about killing people."

"…You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't? I DON'T? My family paid in blood because of you—" But he never got around to finishing that sentence.

Shrill screams echoed from beneath the roof, followed by three quick explosions near or around their general vicinity. Batman immediately dove for the boardwalks, Superman hastily at his side in what would've been the most fantastical dream a boy could ever have: Batman and Superman, circa 2067. Unfortunately, the circumstances gave little room for compromise, and Batman immediately took charge by barking orders. "If he moves, do what you do best."

The competition didn't look too promising, even by supervillian standards. The standard, bargain brand Jokerz were at it again, with newer tricks that were less than treats. There were three of them, all mutated versions of the same old Rogue Gallery Bruce had drilled into his brain a millennia ago. The first, the leader, by the looks of it, put her costume together by throwing Harley Quinn and Catwoman in a blender. Her pasty-faced white smirk leered with a painted Cheshire cat grin, while spliced whiskers cut her rouged cheeks like dagger tracks. Her catsuit adorned with red and orange ruffles, her whole body rolled when she cackled, a tiger's tail swished behind her frame like a war banner. Her two accomplices, one an eerie monstrosity that reminded him of the Penguin minus seventy pounds and with fangs, and the other like Killer Croc with a full-fledged snout and tail, flanked her slender frame with their bulky bodies, laughing along with her with a mixture of squarks and snarls. Croco was the one holding onto Batman's tail, but she wasn't the one who screamed. Oddly calm, she hadn't moved a muscle since she was snatched.

That worried him even more. But first, he grimaced when he realized Superman snarked him back and floated in midair, practically breathing down his neck with annoyance.

Clark folded his arms, and shook his head, displeased. "Downgraded to brute. Great."

"You got a problem with that? Take it up with my lawyer. Babs is a wonder behind the prosecution table."

He paid no attention. "Jokerz, surrender in peace, and you will be awarded with a fair trial, and an opportunity for you to defend yourselves before you're locked away for good. Give up now, and I'll make sure the judge is lenient."

"And what if we don't, Krypto Man? You going to pound us into the ground like before? You going to go all Looney Tunes and shaft the world again? Sorry, Freak… we'll handle this one by ourselves," laughed the leader, whom Terry nicknamed "Psycho Kitten". "'Sides, Kryptonite's a dime a dozen these days, since you so generously made it rain boulders a few years ago."

"You're lying."

"Can you really take the chance?"

Batman laughed. "See? They don't listen to you. This is my town, my gallery, my life. But you can watch me beat them up if you want. Or, I can tell you to 'sic 'em' and we can just get it over with, Kryptonite or no Kryptonite."

"I hardly think you'll need me. You can handle it yourself."

"About time we agreed on something."

Superman glared at him and shook his head. "For once, I wasn't talking to you."

The woman in Croco's arms scowled. "I thought you were going to stay out of my life."

"Plans change. Times change. The League needs you."

"What? I'm confused."

She shrugged at Batman casually. "You'll understand later." Turning to Superman, she glowered. "I'm guessing I need to get out of this myself. Very well then."

Like a bullet, Terry could barely keep his eyes on her as she shot up into the air, surprising more than just the birds. She can fly? And apparently, superstrength was a plus as well, as she just about slammed Croco down three feet into the concrete walkways below.

Slapping her hands together, the woman spun around in a whirlwind, faster than the Batsuit's computers could follow. In mere moments, her appearance changed drastically: no more purple sweater, but a skin-tight, spandex top of red, black and yellow, two bands of conjoined canary scribbling two W's across the top, red above and around her neck and black below, replaced it was ease. Her skirt, the same scarlet red, swished below her, barely coming to the top of her ruby red, knee-high boots. What he initially thought were bracelets were in fact armlets spanning from wrist to elbow, and from the looks of it, he could immediately tell what they were used for. He'd read the files.

But she couldn't be… then again, an Amazon lived forever, didn't they? But she didn't look anything like…

Wonder Woman frowned grimly, staring down at her attackers and her would-be rescuers. "Who's next?"