Trinity
September 14, 1940
"You're not going to catch me. You know that right? This is all for show," said the costumed thief known as Catwoman as she sprinted along the narrow beams of the construction site.
She certainly had a head start on Batman. And a height advantage, being two floors up. For all his athletic prowess, he could not deny that she was more nimble than him by a significant factor, to the point where it was a real challenge to keep pace. In his estimation, Catwoman was in the dominant position. Except for one aspect.
Catwoman vaulted across a gap in the unfinished beams and spun herself around a vertical pillar. There was a glimpse of yellow and red in the night and he heard a startled cry. Robin sailed into her from above, delivering a solid kick to her midsection. She lost her balance and fell from the beams. Batman prepared to jump to catch her, but she responded first, lashing her whip to a bit of scaffolding and using it to swing to a lower level, one with partially finished floors. She wasn't fully able to correct her fall, landing with an awkward roll. Batman used his cape to glide toward her, while Robin swung down too.
"That hardly seems fair," said Catwoman. "Two against one?"
"I thought cats always landed on their feet?" said Robin.
The boy liked to talk. At first Batman had tried to break him of the habit, but he realized there was a value to it. It antagonized their enemies, threw them off their game. As long as Dick could learn when silence was necessary.
"Funny. I know he doesn't get that from you," said Catwoman.
"Give up. This doesn't have to go on," said Batman.
For a moment, she looked like she was properly considering it. She touched the small bag of jewels on her hip. Then a smile crossed Catwoman's lips.
"Thanks, but no. Not when I can do this," said Catwoman.
Batman noticed that her whip was now curled around a rope, one that lead up several floors, to a bundle of construction materials dangling high above. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled the line close enough that a slash of her claws severed it. She performed a backward somersault, flipping to her feet.
"Robin, get back," said Batman, even as he lunged past the falling debris.
To his credit, Robin followed orders, leaping backwards. The debris smashed onto the new floor, partially smashing through it. There was enough material that it blocked the passageway.
"Find a way around," said Batman.
He barreled after Catwoman, who took a clear route to the edge of the floor. He threw a batarang at her, but with impeccable grace, she dodged it, springing into a cartwheel that ended in a swan dive off the ledge. Batman followed her off it. He pulled his cape in, to build speed. Catwoman twisted around in midair, till she was facing Batman. Her whip cracked out and he felt a sting on his ankle as it coiled around him. With more strength than he knew she possessed, the burglar yanked hard on her new anchor, pulling her through the air, till she crossed over to the other side of Batman, as the force pushed him forwards. Batman flared out his cape to slow the fall, but he it was too late. The middle length of the whip struck a steel beam. The impact tugged painfully on his leg, while Catwoman used the momentum to spin her way around the beam once, twice, three times, till the whip was wrapped around it and Batman was dangling upside down. Before he could grab anything from his belt, a bola hit his wrists, wrapping them together. Swaying uncomfortably in the breeze, Batman could see Catwoman lean over the edge, a look of mock pity splayed out on her face.
"Not quite how you intended to spend you evening?" said Catwoman. She procured another whip from her own belt, using it to descend till she dangled next to him.
"I enjoy all this quality time we spend together, but I am disappointed you brought the kid. What is he? Your son? Am I really not enough anymore?" said Catwoman.
He let her talk, as he subtly worked against the bindings on his wrist.
"Anyway, don't take this too personally. It's only fair I win after all the times you've ruined my fun," said Catwoman.
She leaned in close to Batman, close enough that he could smell the traces of her perfume. Her clawed hand grabbed the back of his cowl.
"You may have earned at least one gift. For never letting a girl feel like she's unwanted," said Catwoman.
Her lips moved towards Batman's. Without really thinking, his own parted in anticipation.
"Batman? Are you there?" shouted Robin.
Catwoman recoiled, letting out an annoyed hiss.
"See? Why bring the kid?" she said.
Catwoman undid the her own whip, dropping to a beam below them. She gave Batman one last look and winked.
"See you soon," she said as she vanished into the darkness of the construction site.
"You know Bruce, I'm not a big fan of that Catwoman," said Dick.
They were back at the Batcave. Bruce updated Catwoman's case file, as Dick reclined in a chair while Alfred iced his knee. A gift from their foe.
"I wasn't aware we were fans of any of your rogues gallery, Master Richard," said Alfred.
"Well, they're all different. Like the Riddler? At least that was kinda fun. Figuring out all those puzzles," said Dick.
"I'll remember that you're having fun with it the next time I'm hanging over one of Nygma's death traps," said Bruce.
"Or Killer Moth. How did he think having a moth signal wouldn't lead us right to him?" said Dick. The boy was overcome by a spate of laughter. Even Bruce couldn't help but smile.
"I'm sorry that our foes aren't all living up to your standards, Dick," said Bruce. "And unfortunately for you, I'm betting we'll be dealing with Catwoman sooner rather than later. This is the fourth heist she's pulled in a month."
Dick groaned. Bruce focused on the case file, as Alfred distracted Dick with questions about their excursion. Catwoman… If one asked Bruce who Batman's first real foe was, beyond the ordinary gangsters, Doctor Death would be the obvious choice. But, there was another. A skilled thief in a makeshift costume that managed to give Bruce the slip during his third week as Batman. One whose movement seemed to resemble a certain cat-themed criminal.
"Bruce? Bruce?" said Dick.
"What?"
"Are we going to plan out our next patrol? Or a stakeout? To catch Catwoman red handed. Or red pawed?" said Dick.
"I'm going to spend some time planning. You are going to get some shut eye."
"Come onnnnnn," said Dick.
"Ah, ah, Master Richards," said Alfred. "You do have school tomorrow."
Dick pretended to deflate till he was slumped in his seat, a grumpy expression on his face.
"It seems the boy could follow in your footsteps Alfred," said Bruce. "With a performance like that."
"A natural actor," said Alfred.
Alfred led Dick out of the cave, while Bruce finished his work. When it was finally time to put away his file, his eyes flicked over to the other outstanding work in his records. The smuggling network. The one that would not go away. A breakthrough was close, the culmination of long hours of observation and investigation. All it would take was a little more patience.
September 15, 1940
"Kent, this is a good story," said Perry White.
Clark was in his office. The bullpen of the Daily Planet was always busy, but the last year it seemed downright frantic, the ceaseless mechanical punching of typewriters as the employees did their best to keep pace with a world that wouldn't stop unleashing headline after headline. He had learned all the nuances of the soundscape of the place, from Jimmy Olsen's humming as he delivered coffee to Cat Grant's gossip to the snoring that told him Steve Lombard was enjoying the mid-day naps he took on his lunch breaks. In Perry White's voice Clark could detect the incoming "but" from a mile away.
"But?" said Clark.
"Don't preempt me," said Perry.
"Yes sir," said Clark.
"...but, you don't seem happy with it. Why is that?" said Perry.
The newspaper on Perry's desk had a headline that declared that the working class neighborhood that had been under threat for the past year was in fact going to be demolished. And redeveloped for the families that already lived there, with improvements to modernize them. At least partially thanks to the efforts of Superman to defend their homes. Everything tied up neatly. Except…
"It's Luthor, isn't it?" said Perry.
"Yes," said Clark.
The company that secure the contract for the redevelopment was none other than Lexcorp, with Luthor promising to deliver the best that his vision of Metropolis had to offer. This was after months of him decrying Superman's stonewalling as authoritarian and the continued existence of the neighborhood as a blight on the city. With this one move, Luthor was able to sweep away all that bad blood and transform it into a public relations coup.
"Clark, Clark, Clark," said Perry.
Perry opened up a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a pair of crystal glasses and a bottle of what smelled like whiskey. He poured out a neat glass form himself, then offered one to Clark. His initial reaction was to decline, but Clark assented. He took his glass. Perry raised his. Clark did the same. They each took a sip. Alcohol didn't do much for Clark. At times he could appreciate the flavor, but whatever pleasant buzz it gave other people couldn't affect his physiology.
"I try not to breathe down my reporter's necks too much. I don't want to tell all of you exactly how to do your jobs. What worked for me when I started out might not work for you. The Planet is what it is because all of you bring something to the table. Lord knows if I tried to rein in someone like Lois, the stress would be the end of me," said Perry.
He took another sip of whiskey.
"But, take some advice from an old hand Clark. Don't let each of these stories wear you down. You won't last," said Perry.
"I'm not trying to do that. It's just that every time it seems like there's a victory in this city, one where the average person gets to hold their head up, Luthor comes in and taints it," said Clark.
"Today it's Luthor. Back when I was your age it was Glenmorgan. Before him it was another huckster that spun gold out of thin air. You get my point?" said Perry.
"I guess," said Clark.
"There's always someone who's going to take advantage of Metropolis and its people. If not Luthor, we'd have someone else," said Perry.
"That's a bleak way of looking at it," said Clark.
"Heh. That doesn't mean we give up. The city can get better. It has gotten better. It just takes persistence. The real kind," said Perry.
He finished his drink. Clark matched him.
"As for Luthor… If someone could bring him down easily, it would've already been done. Lois or Gil Frisson at the Star or hell, even Cat Grant. That dame's brought down her share of socialites and politicians with her column. The point, Kent, is that Luthor is a real son of a bitch, the kind that can wriggle his way out of almost anything. But, even he'll slip one day. And reporters like you and Lane and all the rest will be there to make sure it makes the morning paper," said Perry.
"Thanks chief," said Clark.
"Don't call me that. Now quit your brooding, go find Lois and Olsen and make sure we get something good out of that Wonder Woman event. And don't go telling the others about my whiskey. I'll have Lombard asking for a drink every day."
The night was never as dark in Metropolis relative to Gotham. At first, he thought he was imagining it, but on this visit, Bruce was certain that the city glowed nearly as much as daytime in many parts of the city. He leaned on the railing around the edges of the gala. A prelude to the larger public assembly, a part of the national diplomatic tour that was being undertaken by America's current most famous foreigner: Wonder Woman.
Dick had grumbled at the thought of being left behind in Gotham, but Bruce was hesitant to test the boy outside of their city this early into his tenure. He still hadn't conquered his home. Metropolis was an entirely different animal. There was also the matter that Bruce wasn't here for the gala alone. His trap had finally yielded a return. An experimental tracker, devised by Wayne Enterprises, appropriated by Batman and placed on a shipment of weapons and chemical material smuggled in through Gotham harbor had wound up in Metropolis. Bruce wanted to see why that was the case.
Dick would've been bored to death here anyway. Bruce made the rounds, careful to be seen, but unwilling to get bogged down in any one conversation. He avoided Lex Luthor, who cut through the crowds like a shark through a school of fish. The act that characterized Bruce Wayne's public persona was easy enough to maintain, but playing dumb in front of that man was grating.
"I didn't know you'd be here," said a woman's voice. "But the, who can predict where Bruce Wayne will make an appearance?"
Julie Madison stood behind Bruce in a brilliant green dress. Her companion, a man with slicked back brown hair and a tan suit looked less thrilled by the encounter.
"Robert would you give me a minute? Give two old friends a chance to catch up," said Julie.
Robert left without enthusiasm, pulled back into the jumble of people as a woman crooned over an undertone of jazz. Julie joined Bruce at the railing. Her skin was more tanned, her hair a touch longer. She sized him up as he did the same.
"How did LA treat you?" said Bruce.
"It was delightful. I needed the change. You should consider spending some time there yourself," said Julie.
"Could be good. But I'd miss the Gotham gloom," said Bruce.
The silence stretched on for a moment longer than natural. He knew there were options to lighten the mood, but he couldn't bring any to bear.
"You never called me," said Julie.
"I thought you didn't want me to," said Bruce.
"There's what I said and what I wanted. It was no accident that you got mailed the details of a line to reach me at."
"Must have missed me. I'll have to ask Alfred."
"I thought you were a grown up. Well versed in the ways of women. That's certainly the impression the papers give," said Julie.
"You made it sound like you needed the space," said Bruce. This conversation was stirring him up more than he planned.
"I did. But, a call would have been nice. To show you still cared," said Julie.
He didn't respond. Across the stretch of the night's sky, in a building far away a light flicked off.
"I hear you've got a kid now," said Julie.
"A ward," said Bruce.
"What's his name?"
"Dick. Dick Grayson."
"I never took you for the fatherly sort."
"I'm not his father."
Julie gazed at him, her eyes probing out of curiosity more than antagonism.
"I'm not his father, but he needed someone to take care of him. Someone who knew what he was going through," said Bruce.
"I bet he's lucky to have you," said Julie. "Few children in his position get such a chance."
"I think I'm the lucky one. It's been difficult. Coming home. Returning to… all this," he said, gesturing at the party, the people. "Alfred's always there to support me. But, with Dick… it's different. There's a lightness to him. In spite of the tragedy of what happened to his parents. He makes it all lighter."
Bruce stopped himself. That was more than he intended to say, but there was a quality to this reunion with Julie, one that pried at his defenses.
"I'd like to meet him. Sometime," said Julie.
Bruce looked at her.
"If that would be alright," she said.
"Yes. He'd like that," said Bruce.
As if on cue, Robert returned from the crowds, with a pair of drinks and a crease on his forehead that told Bruce he wasn't intent on joining the conversation. Julie excused herself and followed her companion back into the gala proper as Bruce lingered at the railing for a minute longer. Out in the darkness, a few more lights had flicked off.
Social gatherings like this one weren't Clark's specialty as a reporter. He preferred the stories that took him close to the common people of the city, where he was able to get into the roots of it. Here, in the vaulted towers of the rich and powerful, there was so much innuendo and posturing to sift through. Everyone was sure to be seen with each other, while those with any real power did their best to sort out one another's intentions, keeping their own close at hand. Lois did well in these spaces, as did Cat Grant.
Jimmy, for his part, could run with any group of people. Despite his often frazzled and frantic exterior, Clark had watched him fit in with every walk of life in the city. Construction workers, academics, fry cooks, socialites, garbagemen, porters, actors, playwrights, cab drivers and more. Jimmy could talk to them all. This explained why Clark wasn't particularly surprised that Jimmy had managed to join a conversation that included the actress Rita Hayworth, the writer Otto Binder, the fellow journalist Lola Barnett of the Daily Star and the philanthropist Loren Jupiter. Clark left Jimmy to try and find Lois, who did her vanishing act as soon as they arrived. He could hear her voice periodically, but it was difficult to pinpoint in the crowd.
His hearing gave him the ability to take a sample of the gathering's mood towards a variety of topics, namely the presidential election and the war. Metropolis trended towards FDR's camp, but there were enough Thompson converts to keep things heated. Thoughts on the war were a mix of voyeurism at the suffering undergone by those involved, speculation at whether or not America would join the fray and Clark's least favorite, business-like projections about how much profit there was to be gained from arming the various sides.
The other major topic of conversation was that of their reason for being here at all. Wonder Woman. There was an undercurrent of skepticism in many discussions around her, in spite of the fact that the reality of her power was beyond debate. A few voices questioned the timing of her rescue of President Roosevelt alongside the Justice Society, a matter which remained deliberately obscured from public knowledge. Clark had his own interest in her, an interest that would have to be satisfied by his journalistic obligations for now.
In his travels through the gala, Clark bumped into a broad-shouldered man with jet black hair. He turned to apologize, before realizing it was Bruce Wayne. The glint of recognition that crossed Wayne's face was too quick for anyone but Clark to catch.
"Clark Kent. Apologies for running into you," said Bruce Wayne.
"None needed. How are you Mr. Wayne?" said Clark.
"Doing my best to find my own fun here. You'd think a room full of this many famous people would be more lively," said Bruce.
In a lower voice, Clark said, "Why are you really in town? It doesn't matter how quietly you respond, I'll hear it."
Bruce continued to smile and chuckle.
"Working a case. The one we've talked about. I can tell you more later," said Bruce.
He could only mean the network of contraband that was being funneled into their respective cities. There was something frustrating about Wayne's insistence on secrecy, but Clark didn't doubt his efficiency.
"When did you two get so chummy?" said Lois.
"I'm not allowed to share a laugh with one of the Daily Planet's best reporters?" said Bruce Wayne. "Second to you of course."
"Careful, you may just sweep me off my feet with charm like that," said Lois sardonically.
She turned her attention to Clark.
"Come on Clark. The real show's about to begin. You can play catchup with your friend later," she said.
Clark gave Bruce a parting nod. The other man's gaze turned somber for an instant, then returned to the relaxed look he maintained with his peers.
"You never answered my question Smallville," said Lois.
"I've had a few more opportunities to talk to Mr. Wayne. After the World's Fair, the harbor cruise…"
"You mean the one where you almost sank because of that washed up actor?" said Lois.
"There was a bit more to it than that, but yes, that's a decent summary," said Clark.
"And after all that, Bruce Wayne still remembers talking with you?" said Lois.
"I'm guess I'm memorable. You can't seem to forget me," said Clark.
"That would be the stress from all the times I think you've perished in pursuit of a story," said Lois.
"Then you know how I feel about you," said Clark.
Their verbal sparring was halted by an announcement from the main stage. Mayor Nicholson was preparing to introduce Wonder Woman, in a roundabout and self-congratulatory fashion.
"Jimmy! Jimmy quit yammering and get over here," said Lois.
Jimmy slipped from his group and joined them.
"Have fun with your friends?" said Clark.
"Boy did I. I have got to introduce you to Rita Hayworth sometime. She's a gem," said Jimmy.
"That's swell Jimmy," said Lois, "but what we need now is one of your prize winners. Go find an angle to get the shot."
"Got it, Ms. Lane," said Jimmy. He scurried off into the thick of it.
The mayor continued to drone on about the virtues of Metropolis. The crowd gradually congealed toward the stage.
"Uh, Lois," said Clark.
"Yes?" said Lois.
"You seem.." said Clark.
"What? Out with it."
"Wound tight," said Clark.
"Is now the time for this?" said Lois.
"Only an observation. I don't want you overburdened," said Clark.
"Don't worry about it Smallville," she said. "If you think I'm going to crack before you, you've got another thing coming."
He wasn't convinced, but there was no time to dispute it. The mayor had finished his plodding speech. From the side of the stage approached one of the most striking women Clark had ever seen. She wasn't in the costume that many of the photos taken of her depicted, instead wearing a purple and white toga with a golden pin that held it together at her left shoulder. She was statuesque, perhaps taller than Clark, with dark olive skin and long black hair that fell to the middle of her back. A tiara of gold and red was affixed to the front of her head. Even without his enhanced vision, Clark could see the ripple of muscle in every move she made as Wonder Woman took the center of the stage, giving a slight bow to the mayor.
A collective response rolled over the crowd. Lois groaned at the way that the majority of the men in around them left their jaws on the floor. More than one woman had to elbow or otherwise regain the attention of their companion. A microphone was offered, but Wonder Woman declined. When she spoke it was with a voice that carried into every corner of the room.
"My name is Diana. I come from an island, one long hidden from the eyes of the world, known as Themyscira. The women that live on this island are known as the Amazons and they have sent me as their envoy into the wider world."
There were murmurs in the crowd. Doubt.
"I am aware that these statements may seem fantastical to you, but I swear by their truth. Your government has taken me to be truthful and I hope that you can do the same.
My mission is one of peace. Not for America alone, but for the entire world. I recognize the irony of that statement in such a moment of global crisis. When war threatens the fabric of our societies. The Amazons are powerful, but our strength comes from our unyielding desire for peace and understanding. The will to love one another and to be loved is the foundation of who we are.
It is as their ambassador that I call on you, the people of Metropolis, America and this world to surrender yourselves to that power. To take up the cause of love and peace to make the world a better place. I am aware that such a solution may appear distant in a time of conflict such as our present day and that the enemies of freedom may force our hand, but their ultimate resolution cannot be one steeped in hate and punishment.
Those of you in this room represent a selection of the most influential people in Metropolis and indeed America. I ask that you use that power, that wealth to further the aim of peace and freedom for all those who suffer both at home and abroad."
Diana was poised to continue her speech, but she was halted by the mayor and a contingent of what Clark took to be government officials. He heard a short, but pointed argument between them. Another man, one with the bearing and uniform of a soldier took to the stage and intervened. He spoke to Diana in a more reassuring tone. At last, she relented and departed, leaving the mayor to continue his empty platitudes. The crowd mostly ignored him, returning to their chatter.
"That was something else," said Lois.
"I can't believe they stopped her," said Clark.
"I can't believe they let her talk for as long as she did. Peace and love don't go very far with an audience like this," said Lois.
Jimmy returned.
"Before you ask, I got it," said Jimmy.
"Great work Olsen. Clark see who you can get a statement from. I'm going to get backstage," said Lois. She left them.
"What did you think Jimmy?" said Clark.
"Me? Gee, I thought she was spectacular. Not just her looks either," said Jimmy. He pursed his lips. "Do you think any of that talk about peace worked on anyone here? That it mattered."
"I think it did Jimmy."
"How can you be sure?"
"If nothing else, it worked on me."
The building that the gala took place on was taller than anything on Themyscira, outfitted with all the latest technological marvels that America possessed. This entire city, Metropolis, was a promise of what the modern world could offer, what it could aspire to be. Yet, standing in the room she was assigned, looking out the window, Diana could only feel that it was another prison.
The door opened and shut. Steve Trevor came in, a regretful expression on him. He took his place beside her at the window.
"Don't apologize," said Diana. "I should've known better."
"That wasn't fair."
"I'm not as naive as you must think," said Diana.
"I don't think your naive," said Steve. He put his hand on her shoulder.
"You're…" he said.
"Foolish?" said Diana.
"Idealistic. And honest."
"That's the problem clearly," said Diana.
It was becoming increasingly apparent how much her mission made those in power uncomfortable. The amount of leeway she had maintained so far was based more on the content of whatever Steve delivered to the government and Diana's role in rescuing the president. She suspected this tour was more for the purposes of flaunting her allegiance to other nations rather than delivering her message.
"They've already told me that I'll be giving a prepared speech tomorrow. One that reflects both America and Themyscira's values. It's presumptuous," said Diana.
"What you did in there wasn't wasted. Someone in there heard that speech and took some of it to heart. It might not happen in a way that's obvious, but it could have an effect," said Steve.
"I suppose. It's times like now that I pray for the wisdom of Athena. I can't help but feel trapped by these obligations," said Diana. "Listen to me. I spent all my time on Themyscira wishing to leave and now that I have it, I'm complaining."
Steve laughed.
"Please don't think less of me," said Diana.
"I would never," said Steve.
She took in his face. He had long lashes for a man. They made the blue of his eyes stand out even more. He stopped laughing when he caught her staring. She put a hand to his cheek.
There was a knock at the door. They both sighed.
"That would be me," said Steve. "I'll be there tomorrow. At the ceremony."
Diana gave him a short kiss. She let her fingers brush off his cheek, feeling the stubble that came back with such frequency.
"Go," Diana said.
Metropolis had its back alleys and low places. It merely took more effort to find them. Batman put away his cutting torch and pried loose the rusted metal bars on the drainage pipe. His tracker lead him to an abandoned sewage treatment plant in the neighborhood known as Suicide Slum. Gotham wasn't the only place with a grim reputation.
After propping up a small black mechanical box on the exterior, Batman descended into the pipe, its interior lit only by the light of his flashlight. The odor of old waste water invaded his nose, to the point where he contemplated using a rebreather just to be able to ignore the stench. Even years after being discontinued, the smells of its former purpose clung to every surface. His boots squelched through muck that he didn't care to consider. It wasn't Batman's first time in such filth. Gotham's criminals had a habit of using the sewers for their purposes.
The tracker could only be so precise. It blinked out of existence somewhere beneath the plant. Past a certain point, Batman would be on his own when it came to navigation. The pipe led him to where he calculated it must be connected to the plant. The remains of a flow control door were bent and twisted before him. He squeezed past the wreck and into the plant proper.
The plant bore all the signs of its abandonment. Rusted equipment and consoles, fallen into disrepair. The generators were stripped for parts, either by the former operators or scavengers. Stagnant water pooled in several of the chambers, let in by leaks in the roof. Wind danced through it in eerie patterns, flitting through dozens of broken windows. It was untouched.
Except for the fresh pair of footprints on a set of stairs that led down to the lower levels. Someone had been careless.
Batman traced his unknown quarry downwards to an apparent dead end. Nothing to fret about. A five minute search uncovered a hidden switch, covered up by a panel of scrap. When pulled, a doorway that led further down opened up on what otherwise appeared to be a concrete wall.
The new passage wound its way deeper and deeper. What had been the foundation of the plant gave way to something Batman recognized with ease. A cave system. The walls were bored into, reinforced in a manner that reminded him of the Batcave. It became apparent that this was on a larger scale as the passage opened up into a spacious chamber, complete with concrete support beams and numerous other passageways. It was lit by lights that were mounted in the walls. Batman went down the first pathway that he reached. It was wide, wide enough to fit vehicles.
He shouldn't have been surprised with the prelude thus far, but when the corridor ended he paused for a moment to appreciate the scale. There was a chamber that dwarfed the previous one. It was crisscrossed with catwalks and support struts, multiple levels of them. The ground level was a maze of containers and the equipment to move them. More passages stretched out from this hub. Batman could see people walking around the area, moving goods and inspecting them. Many of them wore outfits that resembled military uniforms. It was too much to handle on his own. Having Superman with him would have been a good call at this scale. He withdrew his microfilm camera, snapping pictures as he crept further in to the facility. Collecting evidence and calling for backup would be the goal.
Batman had hardly set foot on the first catwalk when he heard a thunderclap and the air raced past him. The portion he had been on was gone, only the twisted remnants behind him.
"You missed," said someone loudly, across the chamber.
A quick glance spotted a man holding a rifle with a wide, conical barrel. It was braced against the man's shoulder.
"Firing again," said the guard.
Batman vaulted over the catwalk railing as a second shockwave split the air. He hit solid earth and rolled out of the way of the tumbling wreckage. Things were happening rapidly now. He could see movement on the other catwalks and below, as whatever forces occupied this facility were closing in on him. The known exit was too far. The only option was another passage to his left. He rounded the corner when the crack of gunfire rang out behind him.
This corridor was newer, less polished than the others. It lacked the same frequency of supports. It would have to do. His boots churned over the rough rock as Batman ran. It terminated in a vertigo inducing cliff, which ran to indeterminate depths. The echo of approaching guards forced his hand. Batman glided downwards. He avoided the walls of the chasm, bracing for the sudden appearance of the ground.
There was another thunderclap. He resisted the urge to look up at his pursuers. The rumble of the chasm walls told Batman that he was not the direct target of the shot. A couple of fist sized rocks fell next to him, one of them shattering on the cliff face. Larger chunks followed. One of them struck his leg, earning a pained grunt. More shards hit him, tearing through his cape as he felt its ability to hold him aloft weaken and then fail.
Batman plummeted into the darkness.
September 16, 1940
"Feels like deja vu," said Lois.
Clark had to admit that the setup was remarkably similar. They were on the end of a boulevard that led to city hall, waiting for another presentation from Diana of Themyscira and her mission of peace. Lois had already fished out the scoop that the powers that be were not giving her such free reign with her speech to the general public. The sentiment from last night was amused at best, offended at worst. Clark could already read the headlines from Metropolis's less savory publications. They loved nothing more than to bring someone righteous down to their level.
There was a good showing by the people of the city. He knew the kind of interest that a figure like Wonder Woman would draw. He found himself hoping that even with a less personal address, Diana would be able to communicate her message to the public.
There remained a good half an hour before the ceremony started. Lois and Clark were on a bench, finishing up hot dogs that Lois had made Jimmy get them. Eating was another thing that was more ritual for Clark than necessity. He had never felt truly hungry since he turned sixteen, but smelling food could make him want it. He enjoyed the act as much for the fact that it was done in the company of others as the flavor of the meals.
They were alone, as Jimmy had wandered off to chat with a fellow photographer, from the Star. There remained a tension in Lois, the same one that Clark had noticed last night, though she was in no mood to discuss it.
"You hear that Olsen asked Perry about going to London? To cover the bombings," said Lois.
"What did Perry say?" said Clark.
"Told him no as many ways as he could. Said he wasn't sending his best photographer to get blown up. You know how Jimmy responded?"
"How?"
"So I am your best photographer," said Lois in her best imitation of Jimmy's voice.
They shared a laugh.
"Would you want to be a correspondent over there?" said Clark.
Lois hesitated, her stare away from them, to the gathering crowd.
"I don't know. There's a lot of journalists doing great work. Murrow. Shirer in Germany. Gellhorn's been putting out reports on the London Blitz.
I moved around enough as a kid that once I settled here I needed to commit. I guess I feel like whatever stories I'm meant to cover are here in Metropolis," said Lois. "Does that make sense?"
Clark took a second too long to respond.
"Never mind. Don't answer that."
They finished their food. The sun began to make its way past the clouds, threatening to turn it into a pleasant day.
Clark gave Lois a sideways look. It was one of those moments, the kind Ma loved to talk about, when the miraculousness of life broke through the barriers of mundane existence. Clark was fortunate to see beyond what humans could perceive and in that perception he saw Lois in her totality. The way that the light, the full spectrum framed the curve of her cheek. The subtle inhale of breath. The thread of tension on her forehead. The way that her eyes, purple in a shade she alone possessed, glimmered with that most human mixture of annoyance, nervousness, boredom and hope. His eyes could break her down into her most constituent parts, but they couldn't catch the point where those elements became the living, breathing being that sat beside him. That was the miracle, the mystery, of existence.
"Lois, would you want to get dinner sometime?" said Clark.
"Clark we have dinner together all the time. We ate at Marv's just the other day," said Lois.
"Or it could be something else. A movie? Going to the park or the museum?" said Clark.
"Oh! Oh I see," said Lois.
Lois looked surprised, but she quickly buried it. She crossed her arms, facing forward, not quite fully looking at Clark.
"I don't know Clark," said Lois.
"Alright. It's okay," said Clark.
Lois turned to him.
"Don't take this the wrong way. You're great. We're a damn good team. I just don't know… I don't know that I'm able to do that right now," said Lois. Her expression was genuinely pained.
"Forget I said anything," said Clark.
Superman had been hit by more bullets than he could remember, but that was the most painful moment Clark had experienced in a long time. They sat in loaded silence on the bench. Jimmy wandered back to them, wearing a colorful pinstriped hat and a polka dot bowtie.
"You would not believe the folks I just met," he said. "Is there something wrong?"
"No," said Clark. "Everything's swell Jimmy."
There was a stretch, down in the chasm, in a place starved of light, that life ebbed distant enough as to become a hallucinatory promise. There was nothing to input, no trickle of sensory detail, nothing but the texture of the mind as it wandered in its vacant halls. It was pleasant, if false. Then the pain returned.
Batman's left ankle was sprained. Maybe even broken. It was impossible to tell for sure with the weight that sat on his leg still there. An ache that characterized his whole body was accentuated with racing pinpricks of pain that crested into moments of agony when he tried to shift himself. There was little leverage to be had, his elbows the only thing keeping him from having his face grated on the rock. It was also pitch black. There was no way to map the dimensions of whatever pit he had fallen into. Only touch and the sound of his own breathing told him anything. It reminded Batman of being buried in a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan for weeks on end during his travels. Or the hanging jars in Yemen.
He braced his forearms on the rock and pushed, ignoring the shooting pain that met his challenge. He thought of Alfred. Of Dick. The weight on his lower body shifted slightly. Not enough to release it, but enough to slide a hand to his utility belt, careful to keep his arms along the rock. The pouch in question hadn't been crushed. Batman took out the black box. A radio transmitter, smaller than anything on the market today. One that connected specifically to the device he had left on the outside of the outflow pipe. He spoke his message and set it to transmit on a loop. All he could do was hope that the signal would reach it and plan for the possibility that it failed.
Clark listened to the opening speeches by a number of Metropolis's power brokers in the prelude to Wonder Woman's public appearance. He did his best to take notes, but his mind was still stuck on the conversation with Lois from earlier. She was next to him, but might as well have been across the crowd. They hadn't spoken much since the awkward exchange. His arrival in Metropolis had been preceded by a heartbreak, a final split with Lana Lang, from Smallville. It had been painful, but Clark tried to frame it as a part of growing up, of choosing a path in the world. He did miss his shared secret with Lana, one of the few outside his parents who knew about his powers.
Lois was different. She could be standoffish. Blunt. Cynical. But, there was such boundless compassion behind that barrier she took care to maintain around her. Clark had been granted more and more glimpses of the whole of Lois over their two years working together. Today was a culmination of his feelings, a recognition that Clark wanted to be with her. He couldn't tell if that possibility was over before it ever began.
The speeches reached their conclusion, with another overlong introduction by the mayor of their esteemed guest. Clark couldn't muster much enthusiasm. This would be a lesser showing than the message Diana delivered last night.
A sharp whistle startled him out of his malaise. Lois and Jimmy didn't seem to have heard it, nor had anyone else in the crowd. A second whistle sounded off, then a low, but discernible voice began to speak.
"Superman, Superman, calling for Superman. This is Batman. I'm trapped in a pit within an underground facility beneath the Westmore water treatment plant. Expect resistance. Evidence of an organized paramilitary operation present," said the voice. It proceeded to list out coordinates, then repeat from the whistles onward.
A moment of frustration with Batman was surpassed by the need to act.
"Uh, sorry Lois, but I forgot their was a source from the Hawkins trial I scheduled to meet with today," said Clark.
"Today? Of all days?" said Lois.
"I mixed up my dates. It can't wait. I know you can handle this on your own," said Clark, already disappearing into the crowd.
He tried not to wince as Lois complained to Jimmy. Even with such a large gathering, it didn't take long to find a spot to change into his costume. There was a phone booth on a relatively barren corner. Clark entered it and Superman left.
Diana stood off stage, trying and failing to stave off the anger that came with her coming speech. It had been given to her early in the morning, by assistants, messengers of those with actual power, ones for whom her grievances had no merit. She thought of how her mother, Hippolyta, would counsel her on the danger inherent to a dream. How the reality of it coming true often crushed that which made it special in the first place.
There was at least something to admire in the aesthetic sense. Metropolis, with its brilliant towers of gold and silver, was a testament to their god of tomorrow as much as any temple built to honor the gods of Olympus. She took a measure of comfort in that thought. These people struggled and strived for something better, in spite of all the obstacles and impulses that fought to constrain them.
Her time was close at hand. Diana began her slow walk onto the stage, each step less enthusiastic than the last. The crowd for its part, rose in energy as she appeared, a common reaction. The mayor finished his introductions. She stood before the microphone.
Before she began, Diana surveyed the crowd, the mass of faces all contorted into expressions of joy, hope, indifference, fear, antagonism and more. Something far down the boulevard, something glimpsed only with senses granted by Artemis, Diana saw a peculiar sight. A man in a red and blue costume took flight, faster than anyone around him could react to. Anyone but Diana.
Superman.
Diana had heard much about the champion of Metropolis. His name was a constant on the broadcasts that Steve listened to, his figure frequently in the papers. Her fellows in the Justice Society commented on how he was their inspiration, his courage and kindness a beacon to those who would follow in his wake.
An impulse came over her, one that seemed absurd at first, but quickly battered down any reservations. Diana flicked out her lasso, hidden on her hip beneath the toga. With a twirl it transformed her clothing into her costume as the Americans liked to call it. The crowd gasped. She let her feet leave the ground.
She wanted to meet this Superman.
It took no time at all to find the plant. The decaying structure was a blight on an already rotting neighborhood. Suicide Slums was the dirty secret of Metropolis, the one piece that completely, totally ruined their image of a shining beacon of progress. It represented to Superman the failures that lay beneath the city's surface. A place where the people were left behind in service to greed.
He found the transmitter where the frequency originated from, affixed to a waste pipe. A contingency. It almost made up for his frustration that Batman was operating in Metropolis without soliciting his assistance. Superman should have expected it, but after their encounter at the gala, he thought Batman would fill him in before committing to this endeavor.
Superman flew into the remnants of the plant. Decades of built up refuse and decay rushed his nose. Had he been younger this would have likely sent him to the floor. His x-ray vision was hampered by layers of lead, but it didn't take long to find a hidden doorway. He knocked it open and entered the underground. There was a dense network of tunnels, carved into the earth. He found it uncanny that something so sprawling could exist beneath the city.
There was a new signal, a steady pulse that was close enough in composition to the earlier whistle that Superman banked on it being Batman. He followed the tunnels rather than ramming through the walls, conscious of the danger of a collapse. Who knew how stable the buildings far above would be?
The noise took him through a massive space filled with cargo containers, industrial equipment and catwalks. It was devoid of people, though he caught the distant sound of footsteps further into the facility. They likely knew he had arrived. Superman came to the end of a newer tunnel, one that ended in a deep pit. He heard Batman's pained breaths before he saw him, pinned under a pile of rocks, which had been blasted off the cavern's wall.
"Stay still, I'll get you free," said Superman.
He removed the rocks, taking care to not crush Batman. His companion exhaled in relief, getting up with a wobble.
"Your ankle has a hairline fracture in it," said Superman.
"I figured," said Batman, who was already making a splint for it.
"What are you doing here?" said Superman.
"Can we talk out of the pit?" said Batman.
"Hold still," said Superman.
A short flight later, at the top of the cavern, Superman walked alongside Batman, who moved with remarkable determination for a man clearly in a great deal of pain.
"Answer the question," said Superman.
"This is the stockpile of many of those shipments we've been finding. There could be more, but one of my trackers wound up here. To what end, I haven't determined, but it can't be good," said Batman.
"I'm hearing movement ahead. We may have company," said Superman.
"Heh. Glad I bet on that hearing of yours," said Batman.
"Without it you'd still be down there."
"I would have figured something out. Eventually."
They reentered the main chamber. This time it wasn't so abandoned. The catwalks and walkways were filled with men and women in combat uniforms, their faces covered by masks. Some of them held firearms, others batons. At several places were what appeared to be large lamps, angled in the direction of the two of them.
At the center of this formation was a man in a yellow mask. He wore a black uniform with a yellow insignia roughly in the shape of a claw. His hands were behind his back, his posture perfect.
"Superman. And Batman," said the man in the yellow mask.
"Careful," whispered Batman. "They have advanced weapons."
"Whatever this is, you've got a lot to answer for," said Superman.
"We feel the same," said their opponent. "You've been a hindrance for some time now."
"I suggest you and your forces surrender at this point. I don't want anyone to get hurt," said Superman. He could take them, but he was concerned about leaving Batman exposed with this much firepower.
A few of the henchman adjusted their aim, though Superman could see every nuance of their reactions. Their boss remained unmoving. Beside him, he heard Batman open a pouch on his belt.
"Batman was a surprise, but your arrival was an even greater development. I admit we were almost not ready for you," said the man.
"Get ready," said Batman.
Superman balled his fist.
The lamps switched on. The nausea hit first, a wave that made him sway, as his stomach took a ride. Then came the pain, like stepping on a nail, sharp and surprising, but over and over, up and down Superman's body. Sweat was already dripping off his brow. He tried to jump, but he only managed to fall to one knee, his world cast entirely in the green glow.
"Superman," said Batman.
The world strobed in and out, the colors smearing together. Batman was talking, but it was far away, down another tunnel, only the ghost of an echo reaching Clark at all. Even the gunfire barely pierced the bubble he was caught in. By the time his face hit the ground it felt only natural.
Wonder Woman had lost sight of Superman a few minutes ago. He was faster than she was expecting, clearly in a hurry. Her search had taken her over an area so starkly different from the center of Metropolis that it was as if she had stepped into another world. The buildings were weathered and crumbling. Broken windows abounded. The streets and alleyways were packed with tents and rickety structures, makeshift dwellings. This was how they let the less fortunate live. This was what they fought to maintain.
Wonder Woman landed on a sidewalk. The passersby were startled, but curious. She addressed anyone that was near her.
"I'm looking for Superman? Has anyone here seen him?" said Wonder Woman.
Many of them shook their heads or said no. A circle of interested people had ringed her in.
A black man carrying a bundle of packages said, "He saved my niece. From a fire."
A child said, "When my sister fell in the bay, he rescued her."
"He walked me home a few weeks ago, when I thought someone was following me."
"Superman stopped a car from hitting my husband."
"He ran off that gang that was extorting our store."
"Superman got my cat down from a tree!"
Almost everyone had some story, even without being personally helped. They all knew someone or sometime when Superman had been there.
A few members of the group parted, to let an old woman with a wooden cane and a colorful shawl through to the center. She pointed a wrinkled finger past Diana.
"I saw him for a moment. He flew over there," said the lady.
Wonder Woman followed her direction to the remnants of a large industrial complex of some sort. Steve and his handlers had been doing their best to fill in the gaps of her knowledge about modern technology, but these works of infrastructure remained elusive. It had something to do with water, but beyond that Diana could not say. The way it was left to waste away was keeping with the theme of the region, however. She wondered what business Superman had here.
Diana entered the ruins.
The farmhouse was ablaze, the flames rising high above the horizon, to the point where they dwarfed the landscape. Clark couldn't stand the heat, couldn't get any closer, but he could see two silhouettes within the inferno, desperately clinging to one another in a final embrace.
Then it was Lois falling from a building. Clark managed to lunge out and catch her. When she looked up to see that it was him who saved her, Lois's face morphed into disappointment and let go. Clark tried to fly after her, but when he jumped to the air, he began to fall as well.
A ghostly hand clasped around his body. He was brought before the spectral image of Jor-El, Lara behind him. Anger smoldered in their eyes.
"The last remnant of Krypton and this is all you've made for yourself? Do you know who you are?" said Jor-El.
"No," shouted Clark. "There's so much I don't know."
"Pathetic," said his other father.
The hand released him, his body plummeting into a chasm of green light.
Superman awoke on a table, his limbs and torso strapped to it. He flexed to break the restraints, but his muscles screamed at the very idea. That green light bathed the room.
"Easy now," said the voice of the man in the mask.
The room resembled an operating theater. Sinister machines lay on both sides of him. He became aware of a needle in his right arm that connected to a device via a spiraling tube. The tube periodically had spurts of a reddish liquid Superman assumed was his blood.
"Even with all this effort, it still took a lot of effort to get that in you," said the man. "That needle is strong enough to go through steel."
"Why?" said Superman.
"Not my place to say," said the man.
He pressed a button on a panel at the far end of the room. A flat monitor slid down the wall, facing Superman directly. Grey and white lines blurred into view before it coalesced into the outline of a person. A man, his face obscured by shadow.
"A momentous occasion this," said the shadowy figure, his voice a creaking, harsh rasp that was spit from a wall mounted speaker.
"You are not the first to oppose me, but you have the honor of being one of the most effective. Even without knowing of my existence at all," said the figure.
"What is all this for?" said Superman.
"The answer is beyond you. You can be satisfied with knowing that the rest of your limited existence will serve a greater purpose than you could ever imagine."
The screen flicked off. The man in the yellow mask left the room, replaced by a set of four guards that occupied the various corners. The machine next to him continued to pump.
Superman was barely holding on to consciousness. His senses were under a constant barrage from the green light. He looked at his restraints. With considerable effort he focused all of his thought into his eyes, into the sensation of his heat vision.
To anyone else watching, nothing happened. Only Superman could see the thin beam of energy that was slowly weakening the binding on his right arm.
Another set of people entered the room, wearing face masks and surgical gear. A few of them carried drills and industrial saws.
"Prep the subject for extraction."
It wasn't long before Wonder Woman found the doorway, smashed open, that twisted downward into a cluster of tunnels. She has barely set foot in it before a barrage of gunfire had her running to its source. The noise ricocheted violently off the stone and metal that made up the underground lair. Wonder Woman descended down the path that wrapped the edges of the facility, before turning off into a tunnel near the base. The gunshots were accompanied by shouting and pained grunts and cries, as well as infrequent loud pops she took to be explosions.
Wonder Woman ran into another chamber. The sight that greeted her was out of Hades itself. A demon cloaked in black fought an onslaught of aggressors, punching, elbowing and kicking their way through the maelstrom of limbs and weapons. The beaten and broken ringed the makeshift arena, unconscious or too weakened to continue. The few that still had firearms were unable to take a clear shot at the dark creature in the middle of the fight, obscured as they were by the press of foes.
She ignored her initial impulse to attack the dark figure, instead noting that they were the ones fighting at a disadvantage, against opponents that seemed to have little hesitation to kill. Diana prayed for the wisdom of Athena in making her choice. Her lasso snared a fighter wading into the fray. Wonder Woman used him as a bludgeon, swinging her makeshift wrecking ball around until the majority of the attackers were down. It took little additional effort to end the battle.
Standing over the mess of unconscious bodies, Wonder Woman could get a clearer look at the man she rescued. He wore a mask with pointed horns, with a long, scalloped cloak with numerous tears in it that draped his shoulders. He was panting from the exertion, blood dripping from his fists and chin. There were cuts on his outfit, and his chest was marked by what she determined were bullet marks where armor plating had stopped a round. He dragged his left ankle, which was braced.
"Thank you," said the man. He was already limping off to one of the other tunnels.
"Who are you?" said Wonder Woman.
"Batman."
She had heard of this figure before. Steve had mentioned the Batman of Gotham.
"What is happening here?"
"Too much to explain all at once."
Wonder Woman got in front of Batman. She blocked his path.
"I need to know that I brought down those men for a good reason," said Wonder Woman.
"They say that lasso of yours makes people tell the truth.," said Batman.
He had done his research. Wonder Woman held up the lasso. Batman grabbed it.
"The people that control this facility may be behind a plot to attack the country. I suspect they're funded by foreign elements, likely the Nazis. Superman is in danger and I need to save him. He already rescued me earlier and I'm of what would happen to the world were we to lose him," said Batman.
He released the lasso.
"Satisfied?" said Batman.
"Where is Superman?"
"Deeper in the facility. I was on my way to where I think they've got him, when this group cornered me."
"How did they capture him?"
"A green light that was channeling an unknown type of energy at him. It weakened him rapidly," said Batman.
"Lead the way," said Wonder Woman.
At some point Superman must have blacked out again. He woke up on the table, his head strapped down now as well. The machine that had drawn his blood was gone. There were several people in his peripherals, the same set of medical personnel as before. One man, likely the head surgeon, was beside him with a sinister looking cutting implement held aloft.
"Preparing to make the incision. Raise energy levels on my signal," said the surgeon.
Superman fidgeted with the restraint he had weakened. It was looser, but there was no telling whether or not it would give.
The blade that the surgeon held began to vibrate. He lowered it towards Superman's chest.
Superman threw all the strength he had left into his right arm. The binding groaned and snapped, the force of the swing following through into a punch that knocked the surgeon backward into an array of machines. The others shouted out, putting distance between themselves and the table. He used his free arm to rip off the restraint on his head. Before he could go to work on the others, the green light intensified and the pain roared back to full effect.
"Sedate him," shouted one of them.
Consciousness was slipping again. Superman did everything he could to hold on. He knew if his eyes closed it would be for good. He seized the binding on his left arm and tore it off, though it took all his might do manage it. He didn't know if he could free his legs in time.
"Where are the guards?" said one of the personnel.
The door opened.
"Finally," said someone.
A guard collapsed in the doorway. Another was hurled through it. A woman in a red, blue and gold outfit entered the room. Wonder Woman.
"I give you all one chance to surrender," said Wonder Woman.
The medical technicians relented.
"Turn that off," said another. Batman.
The green light was gone, though the pain and weakness lingered. Wonder Woman ripped the bindings on his legs off and helped him to his feet.
"I didn't think this was how I would first meet you," said Wonder Woman.
"A surprise for both of us. A welcome one," said Superman.
"Where's your leader?" said Batman, already interrogating a technician.
"He's in the command center. It's.. it's through that door," said the man.
Batman released him.
"Are you able to move?" said Batman.
"Not at full strength, but moving in that direction," said Superman.
"You intend to pursue this foe? In this condition?" said Wonder Woman.
"If we stop now, he'll get away. We might get something out of these rank and file, maybe more with your lasso, but I doubt they can tell us the whole story," said Batman.
"He's right. And I don't want to give them a chance to use what they've got stockpiled here," said Superman.
"If you're set on this course, then allow me to lend you my hand," said Wonder Woman.
Wonder Woman took the lead as they ventured further into the facility. Her first encounter with these champions and she found them both bloodied and battered. Batman was in significant pain, though he hid it well. Superman looked unsteady, afflicted by the aftertaste of whatever had laid him low.
Few guards gave them any resistance on their path. They came to a set of imposing metal doors. Wonder Woman forced them open with a push. The command center was before them. It was filled with all manner of strange contraptions. Many of the walls were covered with screens, larger versions of what Steve had shown her was a television. There were empty work stations, cleared of their occupants. A raised platform stood in the middle, on which a man in a yellow mask stood. From the way both of her companions tensed at the sight of him, Wonder Woman took him to be the leader of this operation.
He clicked a button. Conical dishes protruded from the floor. Superman stepped forth and swept his gaze around the room, emitting a red beam that sliced the devices into pieces.
"Not falling for that twice," said Superman.
"Unfortunate. Only the three of you would have needed to die," said the man.
Wonder Woman leapt to strike him, but an invincible force repulsed her when she hit the platform. Looking carefully, she could see translucent warbles in the air around the man. He clicked another button on a device he carried. There was an ear-splitting crack. The ceiling fell toward them at an alarming rate. The man fled from the room into a doorway that opened at his approach.
Superman flew up and met the roof as it collapsed. He grunted at the impact.
"I can hold this for now. Get out of here," said Superman.
She could see his arms shaking. The weight was gradually winning the battle. He hadn't overcome the poison. Wonder Woman joined him, taking on her share of the weight. It was immense, but together they could hold it. Superman's face did not conceal his surprise, which quickly shifted to a grin.
"You don't need to do it alone," said Wonder Woman.
Batman was already out of the room, as he sprinted after the man in the mask. That could be a potential solution to their issue, if there was a way to reverse or alleviate the collapse. But, they couldn't rely on that alone. The weight was growing. Even if they could hold it indefinitely, that was no solution.
"Is there a way to end this?" said Wonder Woman.
Superman scanned above them, seeing something she could not.
"There's a system of mechanical pillars that are failing one by one. They tunneled out selectively beneath the city. If they all go it could take a good chunk of Suicide Slum with it," said Superman.
"Can the sequence be stopped?" said Wonder Woman.
"I can replace some of them. Fuse the rest with my heat vision to prevent them from collapsing. But you'd need to hold this while I go," said Superman. "It's too much."
"I can do it," said Wonder Woman.
"But.."
"I'll trust in you. Trust in me," said Wonder Woman.
Superman nodded. He began to spin, till his body was a blur as he used the rotation to drill through the rock. He was gone. Wonder Woman felt the full weight on her shoulders. Her muscles were already beginning to scream.
Is this what Atlas felt when he held the world? Wonder Woman prayed to her sisters she could do the same. A part of her wished her fellows in the JSA were here to save her.
No. She had left Themyscira under her own will. She had made the journey with all its trials under her own will. This too she would endure.
Batman's quarry remained tauntingly out of reach. The stiffness of his leg made catching up difficult, even as he pressed through the spikes of pain. The corridors had narrowed as they climbed upwards, closer and closer to the surface. He would catch glimpses of the man in the mask as he rounded corners and ducked through doorways.
The pursuit brought him to a sealed metal door. Batman put an unwise amount of explosives on it and detonated it. Even behind cover the back blast was incredible. It knocked him down, but he rose again.
The doorway expanded into what could only be a hangar. A plane was spooling up, its propeller already a blur of motion. The man in the yellow mask was climbing into it. He glanced back at Batman, alerted by the explosion.
"Hurry! He's almost on us," shouted the man at his pilot.
The orange glow of the setting sun invaded the hangar as its doors opened at the far end. Batman staggered toward the plane. The man in the mask procured a pistol, but Batman responded with a batarang before he could fire a shot. His foe cursed and entered the passenger's seat. The plane began to move across the runway.
Batman drew his grappling gun and fired it. The hook caught on the struts attached to the wheel. The plane was gaining in speed, to the point where the line went taut, yanking Batman with it. He was dragged across the runway as he tried to reel himself in to the craft. As the plane reached the end of the runway, its nose rising up as it left the ground, Batman realized there was nothing more to be done in his current state. He let go of his device, coming to an unpleasant skidding halt.
The plane flew off, banking away from the city.
Wonder Woman did not know how long she held up her part of Metropolis. Only that the strain of it erased all measure of time until at last her burden eased. Tentatively, she stopped holding up the roof. It held. After some time, Batman limped back into the control room.
"He escaped," said Batman.
Superman returned a few minutes later, the pallor of his skin looking livelier already.
"That should hold for the time being," he said.
The aftermath was a blur. A large portion of the personnel had fled, through various escape tunnels and hidden passages. There was a lack of documentation and to Batman's dismay, smuggled goods. There was evidence that it had been moved out in the past few weeks. Batman theorized that the facility was made expendable, its purpose as more of a trap, one that the group sprung early and with more backup than they planned. Those that remained and were interrogated confirmed Batman's other concern. The information they possessed was segmented. More extensive talks would be valuable, but none of them could point to where the weapons and goods had gone, only that members from another cell of the organization had transferred them.
They did learn one piece of valuable intelligence: the title of the man in the mask. The Yellow Claw, leader of the American wing of the operation.
By the time they turned over the facility to the authorities in what was sure to be an extensive case, night blanketed the sky, with only the glow of Metropolis to light them. Batman and Superman conferred with one another by the time Wonder Woman caught up with them. She could tell that the two had worked together before this instance. The trio of heroes stood on the roof of the treatment plant, with the bustle of police and civil workers below.
"I'll keep you informed as to what comes of this," said Superman to Batman. "Though I'm sure you'd find out anyway."
Batman nodded. Superman directed his attention to Wonder Woman.
"We owe a great deal to you. The two of us and the city. Without you, it would have been catastrophic," said Superman, shaking his head.
"I'm honored to have fought alongside such valiant heroes," said Wonder Woman.
"We operated well together… in spite of a lack of experience as a group," said Batman.
"I know I'm the newcomer here, but I've recently joined a group. The Justice Society…" said Wonder Woman.
"Not interested," said Batman. "Not now."
She wasn't surprised. Diana gave Superman a questioning look. He shrugged sheepishly.
"The others have talked about how much you've inspired them. The Flash loves to regale me with the story of the two of you at your… World's Fair," said Wonder Woman.
"That's the problem, I feel. They're doing perfectly well on their own so far. I don't want them to dwell under my shadow. Not when they have so much to offer," said Superman.
"I don't think she would have that problem," said Batman.
"Maybe one day. But not now," said Superman.
"Disappointing, but I can see your wisdom. Still, I agree with Batman. We did well. It could be wise to continue our cooperation. When the situation calls for it," said Wonder Woman.
"Agreed. Batman?" said Superman.
"As long as it doesn't disrupt my other responsibilities. To Gotham," said Batman.
"That settles it," said Superman.
Wonder Woman beamed. Superman returned the smile. Even Batman had something that was in the same family as a smile.
Batman swung off into the night soon after. Superman floated away from the roof, as Wonder Woman took a moment longer to watch the scene below.
"I heard your speech," said Superman.
"I wasn't able to give one today," said Wonder Woman.
"The one from last night," said Superman.
"Ah. It was not well received."
"I don't know about that. I know it gave me hope."
Sincerity was all that came through from Superman as he hovered beyond the edge of the roof. His face was serene, but she could see the strength that lay within.
"As long as you keep fighting for peace, I know I can too," said Superman.
Wonder Woman didn't go straight back to her room. She flew low over the sea, close enough to kick up a spray of water. She had grappled with what her mission could accomplish. The challenges she faced were not removed by today's events. They would await her every step of the path. The difference was that she was no longer alone.
Clark slid open the window to the janitor's closet on the floor that held the main offices of the Daily Planet. There was no lock, an unneeded component at such a height. Unless a man could fly. He changed in the closet with the spare he had hidden in the ceiling panel and stepped out into the offices. It was late, but he wanted to get a head start on the story. He would have to go back and do proper journalism in terms of getting sources, but he wanted to put down the broad strokes on paper while it was fresh. No sooner had he started for his desk then he was stopped by the realization that he was not alone.
"Burning the midnight oil?" said Lois.
"What?" said Clark.
He had been so wrapped up in the story that he hadn't noticed her at her desk, hidden behind her stacks of paper. There was a dim light, the only one in the offices. Lois appeared tired, her eyes doing the unwilling droop of someone that had been up for too long.
"How'd your work on the Hawkins story turn out?" said Lois.
"It, uh, it fell through. My source never showed," said Clark.
"Too bad. You didn't miss much. Wonder Woman flew off the stage when it was her turn to talk," said Lois.
"Oh that's a shame. I wonder why?" said Clark.
"You won't have to wonder for long. That's why I'm here," said Lois, gesturing to her typewriter and a developing stack of finished pages.
"I got a call from one of my regulars in the public works department. Told me a crazy story about a giant underground facility full of criminals and smuggled weapons. I thought there was a gas leak somewhere till I talked to my guy with the police and another one with the city. Turns out Superman, Batman and, get this, Wonder Woman were in there busting this ring up," said Lois.
"That's quite the story," said Clark.
Scooped. Firsthand involvement, not that he could include that, and he was still scooped. It couldn't make Clark upset though, not when he saw how pleased Lois was with herself even through the exhaustion.
"You never told me why you were here?" said Lois. "In fact, I didn't hear you come in."
Clark's eyes flicked around the office for an excuse. Saved by his constant exits.
"I forgot my jacket. I've left it here for too long," said Clark.
"Clark Kent. You came here at.. one in the morning to get a jacket?" said Lois.
"Yes?"
"Okaaay. Whatever suits you farm boy," said Lois, going back to her typewriter. The keys clacked away, no doubt creating a pristine work of typo filled journalism.
As Clark grabbed his jacket and turned to leave Lois spoke up.
"Don't let what I said to you earlier today get you down."
"What do you mean?"
"What I said has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. It's not a no forever. But I'm not ready now. And this isn't me telling you to wait in the wings endlessly. If I take too long to sort out my mess and some gal with good sense swoops in and sees how wonderful you are that's my price to pay."
Clark didn't answer.
"Just know that I see you out there Clark. All the kindness. All the little things. I see you."
She had never looked up from her typewriter, but Clark could hear the brief spike in her heartbeat. It matched his own.
"Goodnight Lois. Till tomorrow."
"Goodnight Clark."
"You are fortunate that the cost of raising another to your position currently outweighs the benefit of disposing of you," said the harsh voice through the screen.
"Yes master," said the Yellow Claw.
"A true disaster. Incompetence at its most insipid."
"Yes master."
The voice had a brief coughing fit.
"It was not without its small victories. We have the blood sample."
"Yes master. Do you wish to give Luthor his portion or should we prepare a forgery?"
"Hmph. Give that arrogant louse his reward. The mineral worked and he is bound to be an impediment if he feels wronged."
"As you command."
"The American schedule will have to be adjusted after this setback."
"Yes master. Will there be retaliation against Superman and the others?"
"Not Superman. Not yet. I don't wish to use up the rest of the mineral on an attack he is prepared for. The Amazon, though. She could be excised. Along with her peers."
"Are they ready for that?"
"They will be with what we've provided them. Summon the Injustice Society."