Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

Signals

Chapter Seven: Recognition

Batcave

April 1 – 12:15 pm

There were several reasons why Bruce hated being carted around in Clark's arms. The most obvious of reasons was that it robed the Dark Knight of his much valued self-reliance, that he was (quite literally) placing himself in someone else's hands. The Batman was the kind of person who did things himself because he didn't trust others to do them right. So, it was a true testament to just how much faith the Dark Knight had in the Man of Steel that he had not only allowed the American Alien to fly him back to Gotham, but that he had actually been the one to ask for the assist. Though, he still felt as though he were giving-up some small personal victory to do so.

That was one reason why Bruce hated being carried by Clark at speeds the human body had not been designed to with stand. But it was not his only reason, and it was not the reason at the forefront of his thoughts at the present moment, as the Superman decelerated to slightly more super-human and slightly less un-godly speed.

No, Bruce's main reason for hating being carried in Clark's arms at that moment was that the human body was not meant to be subjected to the kind of speeds at which the Superman flew. The Caped Crusader supposed he should be happy that his whole body didn't fall apart in his friend's arms, but then again, having his body fall apart (effectively killing him) would have at least saved the Dark Knight from the humiliation of allowing the Boy Scout to see him sick!

Clark landed in the cave.

Bruce all but jumped out of his arms, staggered to a corner… and vomited all over his own boots.

"Sorry." The Superman said in that obnoxiously penitent farm-boy way of his. His voice full of good-natured country grace. "I forgot about the motion sickness."

That set him off. Batman was widely reputed for his short temper, but in actuality he was a remarkably patient man. He had kept his cool through the melee with the Parademons that had invaded Clark's Fortress, while he was concerned for Watchtower he had not let his worry infringe on the matters before him, and when Robin had called informing him that the Cave had also been taken and the Team was outside and exposed, he refused to give into the waves of parental-panic that crashed over the mental and emotional barriers of his self control. But Clark insinuating that he was so weak and pathetic as to suffer from motion sickness was the last straw that broke his fine honed self-control. He spent his nights swinging from rooftops for godssake!

"I'm the Goddamn Batman!" He snarled at the Man of Steel. "I don't get 'motion sickness'!"

Clark retreated a step at his friend's ire. Invulnerability aside, the Batman was scary when angry.

Bruce wiped his mouth while straitening and attempted to reclaim whatever semblance of his dignity he could just as Alfred appeared with a tray bearing a scopolamine patch and a fresh cup of ginger tea. The Dark Knight ignored the scopolamine, it was useless after the fact, and sipped the tea conservatively.

Krypto, bearing Wolf by the scruff of his neck clasped in his jaws landed next to the Superman. The cobra-venom enhanced Wolf, upon his paws touching solid ground once again, was likewise sick all over the floor (only he did not have the decency to dash to a corner) before hurling all over Clark's boots.

"My word!" Alfred's white-gloved hand went to his mouth in polite mortification.

'Serves him right.' Thought the Dark Knight as he watched the Boy Scout lift one filthy boot, dripping with bile and partly digested dog-kibble, and cringe. Then to the Superman he said, "No super-pets in the Batcave. You know the rules."

Clark, with a pitying look to the poor wolf, lifted the cobra-venom enhanced predator into his arms and carried him out of the cave, Krypto following behind.

Bruce turned to his butler. "Did you put out the emergency call to everyone associated with the League?"

"Yes, Master Bruce."

"Has anyone else from the League reported in yet?"

"Not as of yet, I'm afraid. Master Barry expressed concern for his family, as did many others. I imagine they will not be reporting in until they've set their personal affairs in order." He was loath to reply. "But Master Dick did message that he and his Team were on their way."

…

95 FWY (– somewhere between Happy Harbor and Gotham)

April 1 – 12:20 pm

"Can't you go any faster?"

"The speed-limit is seventy-five." Snapper replied with an even and forced calm that did nothing but further grate on the Robin's nerves.

The former JLA-secritary turned high school teacher had been shocked silly when the troop of sidekicks, lead by Robin, had barged into his home demanding he surrender over his vehicle to them. The scenario seemed so ridiculous to the man that it hadn't seemed real at first. He had laughed. Then Robin had fixed him with a steely glare through the white eye-sockets of his domino mask, it was a glare that Snapper had previously thought only the Batman could produce. That single look from the Boy Wonder had silence his laughter along with any and all protests the man had.

In an attempt to reassure the man, the little bird had then produced from his belt a small card issued by Police Commissioner Gordon of the GPD granting the Boy Wonder permission to commandeer and drive any vehicle he deemed necessary… yadda, yadda, yadda.

That was all well and good, but Snapper wasn't about to hand over his Sunshine Yellow '09 Range Rover over to a thirteen-year-old boy and his friends! Hell. No.

…And so, that had lead to Snapper's and the Team's current predicament of driving exactly at the speed-limit and not exceeding it by a single decimal of a mile while Robin complained from the passenger side seat and the rest of his Team scrunched up in the back trying to suppress their discomfort.

…

Watchtower

April 1 – (irrelevant)

Aboard the captured space station formerly belonging to the pitiful band of champions called the 'Justice League of America' sat the ever-silent Brigadier General of Mighty Darksied's advanced guard. He sat at the main consol of the bridge, light from the Earth's yellow sun streaming in through the floor-to ceiling cathedral windows, casting a gold sheen over his black battle-suit with its thin patterning in crimson. His helmet, a gift from Granny Goodness at the onset of his mission, rested on the console before him, right beside the screen that was currently displaying a map of North America with a primary focus on the country called the United States.

He tapped a location known as Missouri and found the settlement called Central City. The wider map was then replaced with one of the medium sized city. Dragging his black-gloved finger over the display, the commander found the street he was looking for, followed it to the house and saved the location on the map, labeling it as the home of the Earth-champion known as the Flash.

Returning to the larger map of the United States, the ever-quiet commander wondered if he should mark any other locations. The problem was, while he knew what cities to look in, he didn't actually know where any other members of the Justice League lived. Sure, Batman lived in Gotham and Green Lantern lived in Coast City, Aquaman in Posidonis under the sea, Green Arrow in Star City, etc. But nothing anywhere near as specific as the site's he'd already sent Parademon strike-forces to. No, if he couldn't send troops to attack them in their dens when their guards are down, then there was no point in beating the metaphorical trees to draw them out prematurely. Let the other hero's lay.

He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the invigorating yellow light. They had already taken the League's main base and shut down their covert ops unit, that in and of itself was a feat worthy of praise (not that he would ever expect any from one so great as his Lord and Master, Darksied, it was reward enough just to serve and to know he had served well). The Superman's Fortress had already been taken and that had been an unintended bonus. His masters had not intended him to expose that most secure of bases to attack. It was a shame, however, that the Parademon's had failed to kill or capture the man. He wanted the Superman, now they had no idea where he was. Probably hidng out in another secret base somewhere on Earth, but there was no sense dwelling on it to much. Their paths would cross eventually, he would be sure to see that they did. Now, if only he'd been able to find out where the Batcave was…

The Quiet Brigadier General gave a mental shrug. It didn't matter.

He made a beckoning motion with his hand to call Lashina over to him. She was the field leader of the Female Furies, her and her small shock-group having teleported onto the space station shortly after he'd assessed it to be secure. She had been one of Darksied's Elite far longer than he had and held seniority over him. Mute sometimes wondered if she harbored any resentment towards him, having been given command over the Earth Conquest mission over her. If she did, she displayed none of it outwardly. Lashina was quick to respond to his wordless summons.

She stood by his side, ready to receive her assignment.

The Silent Commander printed out the map that showed the Flash's home and handed it to the Ribbon Warrior. He pointed to Speed Queen as he did so, mutely advising her of the member of her team best suited to neutralize the target. If she wanted to send any others with Speed Queen, that was her prerogative as field leader, Mute was not one to micromanage his colleagues.

"Understood, sir." Nodded the Fury. Quiet waited for her to about-face and carry out the orders, but she paused a moment longer. "And what'll you being doing while we're down there working, Blue Eyes?"

'Blue Eyes'? That was a new one, but Mute couldn't decide if it was meant to be derogatory or endearing. He just didn't have a clear enough gauge of Lashina's character yet, not even after two weeks as one of Darkside's Elite. But in answer to her question, he spread his arms wide, indicating the whole of the expansive bridge with its cathedral windows and no shortage of sunlight, he then reclined back in his chair and lifted his feet up to rest on the console flashing the Ribbon Warrior a teasing grin.

She rested one hand on the alluring curve of her hip. "So, while we're busting our asses dirt-side, you'll be up here taking a sun bath."

He nodded. That was the benefit of a command position after all, minimum effort with maximum swag.

…

Central City

April 1 – 12:00 pm

"Hey, I gotta take a personal day." Barry Allen, a forensic investigator working in the Central City PD Crime Lab shrugged off his lab coat with deliberately moderated haste.

He did not even wait for his supervisor's 'Go Ahead' (or even a reply for that matter) before he was already throwing his man-bag over his shoulder and rushing out the door (and by 'rushing' we mean exiting in a flustered huff with a deliberately moderated haste, no one at the crime lab had ever seen Barry really rush –at least not when they were aware it was him).

But the moment our anxious Mr. Allen was out of the building… he was gone, kicking-up a slight cloud of dust from the street in his wake. In fact, one might even say he was 'gone in a Flash'.

Less than a moment later, Barry was standing in the doorway to his home. "Iris!" He called. "Babe, please tell me you're out on a story, or at the station, or something. If you're not home then just don't answer. But if you are home I'd really, really like you to say something. Babe?"

He zipped from room to room, searching for his wife before his brain caught-up with his speedster feet and he remembered her cell phone. Barry dashed to the kitchen, grabbed the phone off its wall cradle and dialed Iris' cell faster than you could say 'Snack Time!'

Her ringback tone filled his ear. Then-

"West-Allen."

"Babe!" The Flash sagged with relief.

"Barry? You sound weird, what's wrong?"

"Not over the phone." He said, suddenly whispering though it wasn't necessary. "Just, wherever you are, get home. And call your brother and his wife and tell them…" what? "I'm gonna call Wally." Gotta make sure he and the kids were okay too. If Watchtower had been hit then there was no reason to think that the Cave had gone unchecked.

"What's going on?" Now her voice was full of concern.

From down the hall Barry heard the front door open. He gathered as much of the phone cord as he could and leaned out the kitchen doorframe to peer down the hall. A tall slender woman in purple and green armor of an alien design stood in his doorway. His eyes were drawn to her feet which sported tank-like treads on the soles of her boots.

"Uh, on second though, babe, don't come home." Barry's hand went to the ring he always wore, pressed the setting and turned from 'Barry Allen', unassuming forensics investigator, to 'the Flash', the Fastest Man Alive. "Go to your brother's, wait for me or Wally to- oof!"

The Flash didn't get to finish his sentence. The phone hung limply off its hook. "Barry? Barry! Answer me! Barry!"

…

Batcave

April 1 – 1:00 pm

Clark sat with Wolf outside until the animal's motion sickness subsided and the creature fell into a light asleep. Then he gave Krypto affectionate pets so that the Superdog did not become jealous of the cobra-venom enhanced wolf. It was as he was rubbing Krypto's belly (being very careful not to scratch 'the spot' lest the Superdog's uncontrollable foot-jerking cause a cave-in inside the Batcave) that Bruce called the Superman back.

He floated into the cave to find that the Batman had set a number of the monitors in his array to display the news from all over the country. In Central City, Missouri, Iris West-Allen, Barry's wife, was covering a high-speed battle between the Flash and an as-of-yet unnamed female speedster while Parademons swarmed the rest of the city.

"More attacks?" He asked.

"Looks like it." Nodded the Dark Knight. He turned to the Man of Steel. "Notice anything about the attacks so far?"

"Well, they're targeting the League." Clark assessed. "Almost like they want us out of the way for something else. Are you thinking this could be the beginning of an invasion?"

He looked ever so slightly disappointed in the man's deductive skills, but nodded all the same. "But do you notice anything else?"

Clark just stared blankly.

"Watchtower, the Cave, your Fortress, Barry's home… they're all either specific locations or identities that Conner knew about." There, he said it. It didn't take the World's Greatest Detective to figure out that their lost boy was the cause of their current trouble. The Parademon's attack on Clark's Fortress should have made it obvious enough, after all, who else knew about the second entrance besides himself, the Batman, the Team and the boy? But the specific nature of each of the other targets just drove the point home, or at least it did for the Dark Knight.

Why hadn't Clark come to the same conclusion? Because he loved the boy and didn't want to be reminded that he was the mole, that's why.

"You can't know that." The Superman insisted. "Watchtower and the Cave, fine. We already knew Kon-El had stolen the access codes while under their control. But the other stuff, his friend's home and identity… he hadn't been under anyone's control when he was staying at Wally's all those months back. You're implying that he can still remember being himself when he's under the enemy's control. But that doesn't make any sense because when he would come out of it he couldn't remember anything about what he did while he was being controlled."

"You're assuming that the memory lapses hold true for both mental states."

"Well, why not?" Clark asked, suddenly feeling just the slightest bit hostile. "Do you honestly think that if Kon-El remembered being on the Team, going on missions with them, hanging out at the Cave or my Fortress, that he would willingly pass on information that could get them killed to an enemy?"

In his mind, Clark saw the boy on Watchtower, eyes wide with hysterical fear. Heard the panicked desperation in his voice as he begged the Man of Steel to kill him before he could betray his Team and hurt the people he cared most about. No. Kon would rather die before giving up sensitive information about the Team or the League. He couldn't remember being Kon –Conner, whichever, when he was being controlled. When he was under their control, he wasn't Kon, he couldn't remember being Kon. That was the truth Clark chose to believe. Batman was wrong. It didn't happen often, almost never in fact, but this time the Batman had to be wrong!

"I think he was being controlled. Anything beyond that is pure speculation." Bruce's calm, even voice usually soothed his kryptonian temper, but for some reason, today it just grated on Clark's nerves. Of course, having a place you thought was supposed to be safe and having to run and hide in a cave can do that to a person.

"When he's under their control he's not Conner Kon-El Kent!" The Superman didn't want to hear whatever the Batman might say as response to that statement so he turned and walked away, his bright red cape swishing behind him. "I'm going to Central to help Barry."

…And before the Batman could say 'Great Scott', he was gone –faster than a speeding bullet.

…

Central City

April 1 – 1:01 pm

Like hell was Iris West-Allen going to run to her brother's and sister-in-law's house and hide while the story of the century was going on! She had every confidence in her Barry to be able to save the day, no matter the odds. And if he needed a bit of back-up, well there was always the League. (Iris had missed the memo about the League having problems of its own.)

She dragged her cameraman up to the roof of a building with a decently wide view of the city. It was just plain silly to try and follow, Barry –ahem, the Flash around with a camera crew on the ground. At the speeds that he ran she'd just be left in the dust. Shooting from a roof, the shots were farther away, but at least viewers could see what he was actually doing, not just where he had been. All the wile, Iris kept up her narrative. Speaking to the camera, every now and again glancing back at the battle she was reporting on.

The Flash had tried his best to steer the fight away from his home and the nationhood of Danville in general. After shaking off the alien speedster's initial attack, he had shot off east towards the outskirts of town. But it seemed that his alien attackers had predicted his move because he had found a second woman waiting for him just off of highway 274. She was not as speedy as her comrade but her ribbon-like whips had tangled around his ankles, tripping him up and forcing his face to become intimately acquainted with the dusty and weedy ground.

"Damn." He muttered. He was down, but not out. He was the Flash after all. Rolling over on his backside, Barry smiled up at the ladies. "Wanna hear a dirty joke? It involves 27 uses of the word 'vibrate'."

The two exchanged identical looks of confusion. Barry took the opportunity to vibrate his molecules through the alien ribbons binding his feet. In the blink of an eye he was back up and then standing between the two women.

"Sorry, looks like you won't get to hear it after all."

Another blink and the Ribbon Warrior was no longer holding her whips, her whips were holding her. She swore. Struggled a little. Fell over. Swore some more. The Flash waggled a finger at her disapprovingly.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Language, young lady." He admonished. "We're trying to be kid-friendly here. Hey, where's you're friend?"

The speedster-woman had vanished.

She reappeared behind him, announcing her presence with a hard smack that sent Barry spinning. When he had control of himself again he took off in whatever direction he'd been facing (north, to New Brighton) in an attempt to put some distance between himself and his attackers and hopefully glean enough of a breather to think of a plan. He glanced skyward to remind himself of the Parademons that also circled his town. He'd have to do something about them too. Jeez, Watchtower sure picked a hell of a day to get attacked.

Behind him, Flash heard the grinding growl of the Speed Queen's tank treds on the soles of her boots and knew that his enemy wasn't far behind. Whatever he was going to do, he best do it fast. Of course, 'fast' just so happened to be his thing. The rail station was up ahead. What lines were running at this point in the day…? The Green Line ran every thirty minuets, but it was little more than a glorified bus and never traveled faster than seventy miles an hour, Iris' car was faster than that (when there wasn't traffic. There was Mid-Western Line that ran from Denver, Colorado, through Kansas and Central, Missouri on to Springfield, Illinois. That one was pretty fast. If he could coax her onto the tracks and arrange for the train to hit her…

There was some question as to her likelihood of surviving being hit head-on by a speeding locomotive and the Flash (like everyone in the League) did not kill. But then, she was also an alien, and they had the annoying propensity of surviving things that would normally turn an ordinary human being into steak tar-tar. Barry's dilemma was solved, however, when he heard a familiar and tell-tale sonic boom issue from the east and seconds later the Speed Queen was impacted by a blur of red and blue.

Heh, he had planned to hit her with a speeding locomotive, but a man more powerful than one was good too. And as the Earth-born speedster had guessed, the alien-speedster was none the worse for wear. She shook her head, groggy and disoriented, but otherwise unharmed by the Superman. She glared up at the pair of them.

"Alright, talk!" Flash jabbed a finger at the woman as Clark stood with his arms crossed over his chest, an uncharacteristic scowl marring his usually handsome features. "Who sent you? Why are you attacking us? What do you want with Earth? Are out friends on Watchtower alright?"

The woman ignored the Flash. He had been her original target and mission objective, but that was before the kryptonian had shown up. She gazed up at the man, taking stock of his features before concluding, "You're not as handsome as Mute."

"Who?" Both men choired.

Speed Queen took advantage of their momentary confusion to reclaim a standing position. She went to a device on her belt, something Clark recognized as the box that controlled their Boom Tubes. He lunged at the woman, but she was to fast for him. When she had placed just enough distance between herself and the Earth's heroes, she opened her Tube and was gone.

Clark swore in kryptonian.

Barry came up beside him. "Mind explaining to me what the heck is going on?"

…

Central City

April 1 – 1:30

That damn Flash had tied her up in her own whips, the dick! And then he and Speed Queen had taken off, leaving her in this forsaken little spit of dirt beside the freeway. When Lashina got back to the space station, she was going to give Queen a piece of her mind! And by 'piece of her mind' she, of course, meant- Wait, was that the sound of a Boom Tube?

The Ribbon Warrior rolled over, and sure enough, there was an open Boom Tube glowing beside her. A lean muscular figure clad all in black with slight red patterning on his battle suit and one bold red lightning bolt on his chest swaggered out from the Tube. His face was obscured by the helmet he wore, his eyes nothing more than bright red slits, but Lashina was sure he was smirking beneath it.

"Blue-Eyes!" She snapped. "Don't just stand there, get me out of this."

It was hard enough understanding the man when his face wasn't hidden behind that damn helmet Granny Goodness had given him, with the helmet it was damn near impossible to guess what the man of thinking. He walked up to the Ribbon Warrior and knelt beside her. Grasping one of the flat cords that bound her, he pulled and the lash snapped under the strain of his super strength.

Lashina stood. "Thanks, Blue-Eyes."

A shrug was his only response. His attention was focused elsewhere, over the city. His superior hearing caught the unmistakable sound of another Boom Tube opening and closing, Speed Queen turning tail and runny like a coward. He would have to reprimand her for that later. Then there was an exchange of words.

Mute recognized the first speaker as the Flash, what surprised him was the voice that answered him. A voice he'd not heard in two weeks. The voice of a man the young commander of Darksied's Elite thought himself indifferent to. He had been disappointed when the Parademons he's sent to the Superman's Fortress of Solitude in the Arctic had failed to capture him, but then what did he expect? Kal-El was the super-man. Upon hearing that voice, the Silent Brigadier General muttered one word. The first sound to escape his lips since being escorted from Earth by Granny Goodness two weeks ago.

Lashina gaped in shock having never heard him speak before. She didn't know the language, but the word sounded heavy to her ears, as if it held a myriad of meanings for him.

"Ukr-kah." –'Father.'

…

(A/N: Short chapter is short. But I hope it was good. Anyway, what I imagine when I think of 'Mute's Apokoliptan battle suit is something similar to what Kal-El wore in Superman: Dark Side. Here is a convenient visual aid:

http:/ images2. . net/_ cb20100428212753/ marvel_dc/images /thumb/f/f9/ Superman_Dark_Side_001. jpg/297px-Superman_ Dark_Side_001. jpg …)

(A/N #2: This is also actually the second version of this chapter. A lot from the first attempt at this chapter got cut. If you'd like to read the 'deleted scenes', I have posted them in the "Not a Challenge but a Buffet" thread in the Challenge forum. Here is a link:

http:/ forum. fanfiction. net/topic /86355/ 51027998/ 1/#57720432 …)