The Second Age of Heroes

by Black' Victor Cachat

Diana: "People said the Age of Heroes would never come again." Bruce: "It has to. We don't have any more time!" After a pause and visible reluctance, Diana finally said, "I may know of two more warriors." Trapped on another world, and away from the ocean, Percy and Annabeth are retired. But then aliens invade...

9. Heroes at Rest, Part 1

I do not own Percy Jackson or Justice League, or any of the media attached to either of them.

-X/\X/\X-

Beta read by the wonderful VixenRose1996 and MasterQwertster.

-X\/X\/X-

Guest Reviews:

Dracon 90

Wait and see about any tridents ;-)

I honestly have not seen any of the Captain Marvel/Shazam films. I know they have Greek god angles involves, but have just not marshalled up the interest.

Here is the newest chapter! Thank you for your review and support! :-D

.

Guest (please choose name/nickname next time )

Wait and see for Percy and godhood ;-) And yes, Annabeth and Percy will be having a Talk about her ascension, but not this chapter.

Here is the newest chapter! Thank you for your review and support! :-D

.

JH

You can bet Percy is going to be asking if that Trident is also a Symbol of Power, and having mixed feelings as he does so.

I am definitely doing Aquaman, and possibly some single chapter ones on other films.

Here is the newest chapter! Thank you for your review and support! :-D

.

Guest (please choose name/nickname next time)

Percy's main advantage beating other gods has been that they underestimated him. If Annabeth ever fought her husband, she would go in knowing exactly what he was capable of. Plus, she knows all his tickle points, so truly he has no chance :-P

Here is the newest chapter! Thank you for your review and support! :-D

-X/\X/\X-

The Second Age of Heroes

-X\/X\/X-

Chapter 9: Heroes at Rest, Part 1

-X/\X/\X-

Previously:

Batman travelled across America to recruit heroes to repel an impending alien invasion. While they were victorious, Gotham City, the site of their final battle, was laid to waste. While the heroes saved many people, and the citizens took up arms themselves, many people were killed, and a lot of property destroyed. In the aftermath, the newly named Justice League was seen hard at work doing whatever they could for the survivors.

The Amazonian and Man Mother Boxes were destroyed, while Mera returned to Atlantis with her people's one.

-X\/X\/X-

Cheryl Madisson had woken up to find the world had been invaded.

Messages spamming into her phone and inbox, and her voicemail packed full.

Since apparently the aliens had lost, she ignored them, and went back upstairs to make sure her visiting grandkids were still safely tucked in their beds, peacefully oblivious to how their world had changed once more. Satisfied, she then made their breakfasts, then got on her computer to figure out what exactly was going on. One did not become the executive secretary for Estelle Designs, and unofficial door warden for their CEO, without knowing a thing or two about research. Or without an insatiable curiosity to learn more.

Apparently, not only had aliens attacked and laid waste to a major American city, they had been overcome by the 2nd Amendment, the valiant combined efforts of the police and some locally stationed military, and superheroes.

A whole team of them. Including Superman. Who, yes, was apparently alive once more. Somehow. There were a lot of theories.

More importantly, not only had the superheroes saved everyone, afterwards they had stayed behind to help evacuate people and get them medical support before disappearing.

Staring at the images and footage, Cheryl took a long drink of coffee, and made herself some more.

She called her daughter, and her son-in-law answered instead, and Cheryl offered to keep an eye on the kids until after dinner. After all, her work was closed on an extra day of paid holiday, and the man would be swamped with his own job as the adults ran around in a panic. Let her spoil her precious grandkids so they did not feel afraid, and gently raise their attention about what had happened.

The man fervently thanked her even as she could hear people yelling in the background, and she hung up for his sake.

A quick check of the time confirmed that she had an hour or so before the little ones woke up, so she pulled up websites already dedicated to two particular superheroes. Because the near-end of the world was merely an excuse for more social media, not less, and it was ridiculous to think otherwise. Their outfits obscured their identities, but you could still see some bits of them, particularly the man with all those rugged scars. Some of which seemed awfully familiar. On that tone of skin. His wearing a ducky PJ-shirt to cover them was adorable and amusing though, and you had to admire how well he wore it.

The other focus of interest was one of the two women with swords and superhuman feats. Cheryl had appreciated the second swordswoman's feats, and had noted how she was recognised as the saviour from an anarchist, terrorist strike mere days before, yet otherwise swept her eyes over that uncovered face and moved on. It was the other woman who was anonymous beneath that helmet who Cheryl focused on.

Including the clips of her and the scarred man walking around. How they moved. There were no audio recordings of either of them, yet some people had transcribed comments they had made. And there were definitely pictures of them running towards each other and sharing an intimate hug.

Obviously this had made the internet further explode with theories about them being a couple, with websites dedicated towards shipping them.

Of course, there were also websites dedicated to shipping the man with his ducky-PJ shirt with the woman covered all in black, as they had evidently fought alongside one another. Only Cheryl quickly dismissed those. Or at least considered them presently irrelevant.

Just to be sure, she also looked up some details about Batman, and a certain Gotham celebrity.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped to consider the consequences of what she was about to do. Her eyes raised upstairs to where her little angels slept, alive and well thanks to a heroic few, while her actions might draw those very same grandchildren into a crossfire.

No.

No, she already knew what she planned to do, and just needed to commit herself.

Dialling a co-worker she considered both a friend and the bright sort, she was not really surprised that he answered on the same ring. "Cheryl," he said, and there was a tightness to his voice.

"Bernard. You saw the news about the alien invasion and superheroes. This Justice… League," she checked, hoping her own voice sounded calm and composed.

"Yes," and he was definitely waiting for her to continue.

"I was particularly interested in two of them who don't have hero names yet." Many had been suggested, only none had gained traction.

"Same," and by his tone she knew he had reached the same conclusions as her, or close enough.

"I think . . ." she took a deep breath, and repeated herself, "I think that's for the best that this came out now. Now Annabeth and Percy aren't going to have to worry about the tabloids saying they're in a relationship with Bruce Wayne. What with this to distract them all."

A long pause as Bernard processed that. Eventually, "Bruce Wayne in Gotham." She had a suspicion he had not previously made the same connection as she had until that moment.

"Yes," she confirmed. "After all, what else would they be doing leaving together? In fact, I saw the two of them last night. Here in the city."

"I . . . see." Another pause, yet shorter this time. "Good. That's good."

"Isn't it?"

"Yes. I'll be sure to tell the others not to gossip too much about this . . . affair though," he said with growing enthusiasm. "We don't want it spreading too much."

"Of course not."

"Especially not to Percy's co-workers, you know what they're like."

"Can't keep a secret to save their lives."

Although they could not count on all of them to eat up the salacious news without stopping to think about things. Total gossips, the lot of them.

". . . We might want to reconsider those self-defence courses they lead for us. And maybe take down those newsletters about them getting caught up in muggings, or stumbling into crime scenes. Don't want to risk their new . . ." he snorted, "sugar daddy, thinking they're vigilantes or anything."

A laugh escaped her despite her best efforts. "Goodness me, no!"

Silence fell for a second, and Bernard softly said, "They deserve better after all."

"Why of course," she agreed. "After all, where else are we going to find a boss who gives us extra days off with pay?"

"Nowhere. Ah, I'm getting another call from Corrine. Betting she wants to talk about the same. Bye."

"Bye."

She trusted him to let her know if there were any complications. In the meantime, she had some more calls to make. There was that new intern who was not as smart as he thought he was, especially in comparison to mere secretaries. Nor was he as good at hiding his resentment towards their CEO for how Annabeth kept busting his ego. So Cheryl would make a few choice, condescending accusations towards him about company privacy, and how he had obviously been spreading tales. Especially since he spent all his time looking at social media on his phone, and that was why nobody gave him the respect he seemed to deserve. Risky, except she was confident his response would be to spitefully begin making actual posts rather than acknowledge there was any truth to her words, and before you know it, he would believe what he was typing as if had seen it all himself. Maybe even imagining himself standing awkwardly in the elevator beside a three-way make-out session. Whatever, let it spread far and wide.

-X/\X/\X-

Estelle Designs

Next Day

Annabeth Jackson-Chase tried not to tap her foot in impatience further fueled by her ADHD as she went up the elevator to her office.

She was so tense, she was even able to make herself forget more than usual how she was taking an elevator.

The surging sense of her newfound strength and energy did absolutely nothing to alleviate this. A power she still did not fully understand; nor fully understand all the things she did now know.

Still, now more than ever she had to maintain a sense of being 'normal.' There was a lot for her to do, and she could not risk her personal identity. As it was, Bruce had badly strained his own cover due to necessity over the last few days.

Although he did have some useful advice on how to protect hers and Percy's in the future. For instance, he had provided them both with a specialised make-up to hide their scars, which Alfred had altered to match their own skin tones. Bruce had noted that it had been a necessity for him to invent if he wanted to maintain his cover story as a playboy, without having to try and convince various models that his growing number of scars were from 'polo' or 'skiing accidents.' Something she and Percy had resolved to wear daily from now on when not doing missions with the team.

A little experimentation, and Percy had determined he could make his own even water proof for himself. So while stopping by the aquarium, he was going to make a point of being caught shirtless and splashed by water to 'prove' he had no scars. Well, not beyond the few some people had gotten glimpses of on both of them.

Those could be explained away, the mass of shredded skin from sleeping on broken glass that was Percy's back was another matter entirely.

For Annabeth, in addition to her own cream, there was the matter of weaving a feeling of invisibility into the scabbard at her side, making her sword imperceptible to anyone else.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened, and all gossip shut down in a wave as her employees took notice of her, and promptly tried to act busy without saying a word. Very unusual. Generally they knew she trusted them to still keep on task even if it seemed they were mostly chatting.

To say nothing of how she expected more of them to take the week off in light of the whole alien invasion.

Instantly Annabeth took an iron grip on her emotions, letting only bemused curiosity escape her expression as opposed to her trepidation. "I hope everyone's okay?" she said, inviting them to say something.

"Yes, Annabeth!" they all echoed. Only a few like Cheryl called her "Ma'am" still, and more out of affection really.

"Well now I'm very suspicious," she said, and let it show.

"Uhm . . ." managed O'Brian. "Well, we, uhm—"

"Cheryl has some special documents for you," cut in Bernard.

"I see," she said neutrally, and marched down the aisle to her office and trusted secretary.

As she did so, she overheard someone whisper, "Why'd you do that to Cheryl!?"

"So it'll be private!" hissed back Bernard. "Text her a warning!"

-X\/X\/X-

Cheryl checked her phone to confirm the incessant pinging was just people trying to warn her, and picked up a pile of paperwork.

"Ma'am," she said pleasantly, looking up at her boss. Eyes she would have once described as 'stormy,' now resembled the naked steel of a sword; drawn and ready to be used. Intense and powerful, and carrying with herself an air that she had never shown before. A regality and sense of authority that she was confident was not the result of her imagination driven by certain assumptions. "I've some things for you."

"I see," said Annabeth calmly. "Mind if we take it in my office? I've some things for you too, and some questions."

"I imagine so."

They walked inside, and yes, Cheryl could not help but notice once more how much of this office could be casually weaponised without making it obvious.

"So," said Annabeth, arms crossed, and none of her usual friendly-workplace relations showing. "What's the matter with everyone?"

"Well," said Cheryl, trying to act hesitant about it. Not that she expected it to remotely fool this woman, merely for the sake of plausible deniability. "It's about Morgans, the intern. He sold to some tabloids about you being in an affair with Mr. Wayne."

"What?" said Annabeth, voice sharp as the crack of a whip.

"Oh, sorry! Not that you're cheating on your husband, but that you're both sleeping with him."

Annabeth's jaw dropped a faction while an eyebrow rose, only for her to regain her composure. "I see," she said, sounding perfectly unruffled. Cheryl was not surprised though, even as she tried not to think about how the initial reaction of someone worrying about a different reveal.

"Some of Percy's co-workers were also talking about things, and well, if it's not about the aliens, it's about you two now."

"I see."

"Quite some scandalous comments really. Morgans has been let go of course. Unfortunately some others have picked it up, and it's really caught momentum."

"I see," and now a touch of frustration could be read in the thin crease of Annabeth's brow, except Cheryl was confident it was also masking amusement.

"Yes, Ma'am. I do hope though you still got to enjoy your weekend. After we parted ways yesterday."

There was absolutely zero change in Annabeth's expression, and yet the sudden intensity nearly made Cheryl shiver.

She refused to fear this young woman though.

Not a week ago when Cheryl had known there were dangerous edges to her boss, and not now. Not when she had also long come to recognise the depths of warmth and kindness Annabeth carried with her throughout life.

"When we bumped into each other in Grant Park. Although there was a third man with you, who I guess people could have mistaken for Bruce Wayne. He was out of Gotham after all when the alien invasion happened, wasn't he?"

"Yes, yes he was," said Annabeth quietly, her face a mask. "What did we talk about at the park?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just you mentioned how the man who came in with the trench coat was just a conman, and that thing he showed me which looked like a hologram was just some cheap-trick of his."

". . ."

Distantly Cheryl wondered if Annabeth remembered, or had truly recognised, the silent offer for an alibi the last time they met. Even if she had not known where things were headed.

"Bernard mentioned seeing you too, by chance," she added. "At that little corner café you both stop by."

A café where Bernard's cousin worked, hence why the man dropped by often even after repeatedly bumping into his bosses there. A café without security cameras, and a cousin who would remember seeing the married couple there as well.

"What do you really think is happening between us and Bruce?" Annabeth asked, finally getting to the heart of it.

"I think," and Cheryl's eyes darted to the side before she mastered herself to meet the young woman's own gaze. "I think that Mr. Wayne might find several qualities very attractive about you two. How you're both obviously fighters. Smart. Resourceful. The sort of people you want at your side if things get rough."

She dared say nothing more as she caught Annabeth's nostrils flaring slightly.

A heavy silence hung for a long moment, before her boss gave a warm smile, and stepped forward to provide her secretary a brief hug. Unprofessional, yet fitting for the moment. "Thank you, Cheryl. It's a relief to me to know I can count on you and others here."

"Our pleasure, Ma'am," said Cheryl with a touch of relief.

Annabeth offered her hand for the paperwork, and upon acceptance quickly flipped through it. Without looking up, she said, "Do you think there'll be more rumours about Bruce and us?"

"Oh, anything's possible. It's the sort of thing which really grabs folks' attention, you know?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm starting to see that."

-X/\X/\X-

"—Superman!" went the reporter on the TV screen. "You've been helping clean out and rebuild Gotham City like you did for Metropolis after Zod's attack. What do you say to observations that you haven't been putting in nearly as many hours here in comparison?"

"Well, ma'am," he said charmingly. "The difference is that Gothamites doesn't like me butting into their city. Although they tell me at least I'm not as bad as other aliens, which is nice."

-X\/X\/X-

Stealthily Mera made her way through the ocean waters to the Surface Worlder ship.

Just another wrecked vessel, isolated and out of the way. She slipped inside and passed through the artificial air pocket. Her footsteps were loud across the broken, rotten wood as she made her way up to the top, passing by piles of gold.

There waiting for her she found her longest friend and ally: Vizier Nuidis Vulko of the Kingdom of Atlantis.

"Mera," he said with relief, hurrying over to envelope her in a firm and welcome hug. "You have no idea how I felt when I got your signal. To hear you were alive."

"It was closer than I would've liked," she confessed, returning the gesture before stepping back to stare him piercingly in the eyes. "And I've a lot to tell you."

"Please," he said, gesturing towards the table where they would have a little more space, and she could put down her burden.

He eyed the Mother Box like it was a viper, and even now it was a feeling she reciprocated.

As heartwarming as it was to see him, she knew she had to tread carefully here.

In many ways, Vulko was like an uncle to Mera. Loyal, a hidden sense of humour, stern yet fair, always willing to help her with issues, full of canny insight, encouraging her to think for herself, and unfailingly kind to her when he could be.

He was also an adept manipulator, and an old survivor of the sometimes literally cutthroat politics of the Atlantean courts. Perhaps the greatest warrior in any of the Kingdoms, and a veteran of a dozen wars. Most of all, a man who in the name of fostering peace between their nations had left behind more than a few bodies to be disposed of.

Percy's presence changed the entire eacheakay board. Changed the game drastically. No longer was he a valuable piece with the possibility of being moved into a position where he would choose to take the throne, dependent upon Vulko and Mera's advice. Now he and Annabeth were players in their own right, with their own set of pieces, with the potential to flip the entire game and scatter everything if they saw fit.

She trusted Vulko, loved him like family and might trust him more, but she could not discount the possibility he would act wrongly with this information. Not rashly. Never rashly. However, Vulko might not be able to bring himself to trust them. Not upon her word alone, given what Percy and Annabeth were capable of.

A new son of Poseidon introducing a new royal bloodline changed everything.

Especially when his wife was the immortal second coming of Athena.

It was . . . a lot.

"So, Percy Chase-Jackson was able to help you," stated Vulko, insightful as ever.

"Yes," she said. "We might have bested the attacker at the shrine together if not for the fact that he's actually inexperienced fighting underwater, especially compared to our foe." Which was frankly unsettling and just plain wrong given who Percy was. "What happened next is what you need to know. But first we need to establish my cover."

A flicker of impatience passed over his face, yet she took no offence at him wanting to prioritise information about the 'royal bastard of Atlantis and Xebel.' In his place she would be the same. Except she had a pretty good idea how distracting what she was about to tell him would be.

"Yes, you are right," he acknowledged with a grimace. "I shouldn't let my agitation get the best of me. Especially if we need to part ways early."

In short order he informed her of how the loss of the Mother Box was discovered only when someone realised all contact with her and her men had been cut off. The guards had been found, and their bodies taken into custody for the ongoing investigation. Kings Orm and Neurus were livid at her disappearance, with Vulko doing all he could to keep a war from breaking out. Rightfully he had claimed that she had made a strategic withdrawal with the foul object when it became clear they could not stop whoever had attacked them. Labelling her fallen men as heroes for buying her the necessary time.

Mera would lie to say that she had been forced near the Surface to make her escape, constantly on the run, being hunted. They took half an hour to go over a holo-map to depict the route she would claim to have taken. Unfortunately, it had taken her to polluted waters where fish were more scarce, depriving her of sustenance, and still leaking blood despite wrapping herself in seaweed. So last night she had chanced upon a Surface Dweller ship where they were talking loudly about something. Hungry and curious, she had poked her head aboard to see them watching something play out on what she recognized as a primitive form of news media, and while she did not know the language, it did vividly display her attacker being killed by two warrior women, most likely Amazons—Vulko had been visibly resisting the urge to ask about that. There were also images of beings resembling the foot soldiers of the ancient enemy lying dead everywhere. Believing it meant she was safe, she had grabbed some of their (foul) food for energy, stolen from what she had identified as a medical kit, and had made her way back to Atlantis.

Another quick discussion, and they chose which military outpost she would approach, the commander there being familiar with her. In order, Mera would have them secure the Mother Box, message Atlantis, demand to know about the fates of her men, and demand actual food to properly cleanse the taste of the Surface from her mouth. Vulko would promptly inform Xebel of her safe return.

Painfully aware of the scrutiny they would be under, they gave their false story another look over before they were satisfied. "Now then," said Vulko, clasping his hands together, "please don't keep this old man waiting any longer."

"Brace yourself."

He raised an eyebrow.

"We have all been working under several critical misassumptions. And for the sake of this conversation, assume I have verified this as best as possible. I'm fine if you want to discuss the specifics later, or how to confirm matters more if you desire, but," Mera drew in a deep breath, "I pledge my life on it."

The viceroy's scrutiny intensified as he peered at her. "Why do I fear that whatever you're about to say will drastically change the world as I know it? Go on."

Laughter escaped her, and she could not deny the edge of hysteria to it.

"Oh dear," sighed Vulko.

"Percy is not my cousin—"

The man's other eyebrow raised at the familiar use of that name.

"—he's from another universe, one where Poseidon lives and is his direct father with a mortal woman. And Percy's feats surpass all of his siblings, bar Atlan himself. Combined."

Mera said it all in one breath, feeling her body slump as she let it all out. It felt good to say, to get off her chest. Then she patiently waited for the words to settle over Vulko, who paled as he grappled with the implications, and resisted the almost physical urge to demand to know if she was sure.

Of course she was sure.

Above anything else, obviously Mera would have been consumed by a need to confirm Percy Chase-Jackson was a direct, mortal child of Poseidon.

Because that changed . . . everything.

"There's more I presume?" he finally croaked out.

"His wife is a daughter of Athena who ascended to divinity mid-battle. The other woman who fought beside her is the daughter of Zeus and Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, and a goddess in her own right. The man whose death prompted the awakening of the Mother Boxes has been resurrected, and he is terrifyingly strong. Any of the other heroes who fought alongside us could also lay waste to our armies. The invader was not the Dark One himself, but his general Steppenwolf, leading hundreds and hundreds of their soldiers. They're all dead now, although the fighting was fierce, and a Surface World city, Gotham, in America, was decimated." He twitched, Mera hastened to reassure him. "Don't worry, measures were taken to conceal my identity." A quick nod of acceptance from him, and she added, "Oh, and the other two Mother Boxes should be destroyed by now." She looked at the Atlantean one, "The plan is to destroy this one as well later. They didn't want to endanger me by failing to return with it."

"Well, at least that's simple and good news," managed Vulko, his smile having a little twist at it.

"Yes," she said with the same expression.

He sucked in a deep breath, and visibly focused himself. "You don't have any physical proof of his heritage," he stated.

"None that the courts would accept as proof."

"Right."

Without another word, he plunked himself down and started to meditate. Sitting was less comfortable than floating in her opinion for that, yet of course they could not endanger the seals about the ship.

Patiently she waited, understanding how much had changed for him.

-X/\X/\X-

After what felt like an eternity, Vulko opened his eyes and checked the time to be sure they did not have to part ways just yet. His own alibi would hold a little longer.

Only then did he raise his head to regard Mera.

She was still the young woman he had seen grow up in the palace, except he could discern a sense of something different about her.

Not surprising, given how she has risen to meet challenges which we've only whispered about in myths. To say nothing of the companions she's met.

Is it just that though, or something more?

"You have plans," he concluded. It was no stretch, as she was a future queen in her own right, and had more time to familiarise herself with everything. Including the subtleties she had yet to touch upon with him.

"I have plans to make plans now that I am free to," she corrected. "Including avenues to follow up on. I didn't ask them, but with my new friendships, we have better resources to learn what happened to the family Queen Atlanna had while living on the surface; her son and his father."

"Yes," he slowly nodded, looking to the side, ashamed he had not thought of that himself. He threw her a glance. "You didn't ask before?"

"I considered it," she acknowledged. "Especially as they were already working to help one of their own, Flash, with something similar. The goddess Diana knows we are looking for someone, if not whom." There was a flicker of insecurity there, which he did not press upon, as doubtless the entire ordeal had been fraught with charged emotions. Personally speaking, he could hardly say how well he would have handled being in the presence of an Amazon, much less a goddess Amazon.

Although I'd better start planning how I will.

"I wanted to talk to you first though," she finished.

Mera was no longer that little girl he had helped raise, and was now his peer capable of making her own decisions. Nonetheless, that included knowing when to wait to talk to her partner, and show him the respect he was due.

"I must admit," he mused aloud, "this all puts a different interpretation upon my conversation with Mr. Chase-Jackson. Why he felt he had no obligation to his presumed royal blood. Moreover . . ." Rolling the thought around in his head once more, he said, "They're retired, aren't they? Or trying to deny the call to arms," he shrewdly deduced.

"They are," confirmed Mera. "Although I doubt they'll be able to deny the call now. Even then, it won't mean a sense of duty towards Atlantis itself, though."

"Of course, of course."

Marshalling himself, Vulko stopped procrastinating and got directly to the overhead whale of the matter. "Is Percy a viable candidate for the throne?"

There. He said it.

In every one of the Kingdoms of Atlantis, the ruling line was drawn from descendants of Atlan's children, whose own legitimacy came from being the son and champion of their god Poseidon.

Percy Chase-Jackson was a son of Poseidon.

And yes, despite what Mera said, they could claim proof in his powers. The strength and abilities which had been lost as the royal blood had been diluted by time.

Except he was also utterly ignorant of their culture, people, laws, and who knows what else.

If that was true though, then how'd they recognise me? whispered a little voice in his head.

"Yes," she said with certainty. "As a warrior. As a good man. As one able to make tough decisions. And as one not interested in going to war against a people he doesn't even know."

"Hmph," went Vulko, showing a touch of humour.

"Despite his ignorance, he could learn. If he was motivated to do so. Especially," and how her gaze sharpened at that, "with his wife by his side."

And therein lay the greatest obstacle . . .

"How exactly did his wife achieve divinity? Did she replace her mother?" Pointedly he did not say the goddess' name aloud.

"By chance she touched her mother's counterpart's Symbol of Power without knowing what it was," said Mera, and he could tell she was masking her emotions more than usual.

. . . Something to check on later . . . resolved Vulko. It's . . . not important right now.

Which was a sobering thought about the scale of the more immediate concerns.

"What can you tell me about Annabeth Jackson-Chase?"

"I like her," admitted Mera warmly. "I like them all, but those two I got along with especially well."

"You made friends with them," he said with joy and surprise, realising that her earlier comment about friendship had not been an idle phrase. To say nothing of how frankly his thoughts were going all over the place. "I'm happy for you," he added as she flushed a little. "Of course," he sobered, "if the Kingdoms thought we were trying to put upon the throne a puppet to the heir to Pallas' Bane, well . . ."

He trailed off, and Mera grimaced at the unspoken conclusion.

They would be accused of selling out their people to a conqueror, and all nations of Atlantis would unite to invent a brand new and particularly memorable death for him and Mera.

"Annabeth will indeed be the polarising issue," conceded Mera tartly.

"Some fools will want him to divorce her for a proper Atlantean," noted Vulko with a touch of amusement. "That at least might be amusing to witness. From a distance." The love between the couple had been patently obvious.

"That's not what I meant," said Mera with an edge to her voice. At his raised eyebrow, she bitterly said, "Either they'll assume she seduced him, or that he has her 'tamed' and 'under control.' While the reality is Percy treats her not only as an equal, but as smarter and more powerful than himself, and that was before she ascended. Even if no one knew her heritage, the nobles would struggle to accept someone like her taking charge of matters."

Carefully Vulko did not react to that, sensing that there was a deeper reserve of vitriol beneath that.

The growing frustration and resentment of a true queen forced to live in a world ruled by men.

My, my, her time on the Surface has changed her as much as it did Atlanna. Or at least showed her more of another way to live her life.

"I see," he said neutrally. "Regardless, Orm will not accept Percy's claim. Nor will your father."

At the reminder, she grimaced, and he allowed her a moment to get her emotions back under control. They could not risk her revealing her true thoughts at this venture.

Not yet.

Especially not as events had become radically more complicated.

"Do you have a means to communicate with them?"

"One of them, Batman, slipped me this." She held out a black device. "I told them it'll have to be for emergencies only, as I can't risk being caught."

"Very good. For starters, let's see if we can find Arthur. I don't have my own private files on Thomas Curry readily available, but we can figure something out later to get it to them."

At minimum, Arthur should be a less complicated matter.

Hopefully.

"For now though, I'll need more specifics on what happened, and the people you fought alongside."

"Very well." Her fingers twirled her hair, which was a new gesture from her. "Hmm, I'll be going to the families of my fellow guards," her dead friends, "to let them know of the valour of their loved ones. While I'm travelling, we can arrange for another meeting, or a drop-off for me to collect what you have on the Curry's."

"Very good," he agreed. "Now then, from the beginning."

"Very well. After we last talked—"

-X\/X\/X-

The Gotham City airport was a chaotic mess as relief aid poured in, and others tried to leave the city for good.

So it was understandable that it took people a while to recognise Bruce Wayne himself was waiting in the baggage area. Coincidentally, their attention was only drawn to him about the same time he saw who he was waiting for.

"Ah, Mrs. Jackson-Chase, Mr. Chase-Jackson," he said with enthusiasm, hurrying up to them.

"Please, Annabeth and Percy," smiled the sharply attractive blonde, shaking his hand.

"Call me, Bruce," he said in turn with even greater charm.

"How are you doing? I mean, I know what happened to your city is awful, but how are you holding up?"

Indeed, the man had bags under his eyes, and was wearing older, sturdier clothes clearly meant for the outdoors. Despite this, the materials they were made from were clearly expensive even to a layman, and his air of authority gave him the sense of a man who had been working himself tirelessly rather than someone exhausted to the dregs by the task before him.

"I'm managing," he said. "Having Estelle Designs helping us is a huge relief. And once again I can't be thankful enough that you chose to come here in person."

"We're honoured you chose us, and will do our best."

Amidst this, they ignored the growing number of people filming this on their phones as surreptitiously as possible.

"Thanks for the pick-up," added Percy, who now everyone was noting was gorgeously hot. Was he an ex-model? "You didn't have anyone else to come get us though?"

With a self-depreciating chuckle, the CEO said, "Everyone else is running around doing what they can to help. I'm mostly making calls and organising things. My regular driver's currently helping drive ambulances, and even the interns are out hauling debris. And, well, priority is being given to new arrivals from actual relief services. No offence."

"None taken. We're not here to help with the immediate problems, but the rebuilding."

"Quite. Overall though, that means I'm pretty much the only one at Wayne Enterprise who was free."

"I thought the superheroes were helping out?" asked Annabeth.

"They are, but they're focusing more on the buildings with a high risk of collapse, medical care, dangerous spills, clearing key intersections, that sort of thing. Oh, and some basic construction. Unfortunately, Gotham's problems are a little more complex than just that. Oh, your luggage?"

"Just these," said Annabeth hefting up her bag, which her husband deftly plucked from her.

Meeting her look with a teasing grin and a knowing look at the tablet in her other hand, he said, "You know you're going to be working as you walk."

With a huff of amusement, she turned to the billionaire as they briskly made their way out, tapping away at her screen. "So you said you were thinking of a total redesign?"

"Yes. It's no secret that there was some poor urban development planning way back. Or hardly any at all as it expanded outwards from the harbour. Moreover, a lot of societal problems can be addressed now with things like proper homes for winter, heating and plumbing. Not enough was ever up to code before, and still isn't really. So since we're rebuilding homes already, it's a good start. Make hospitals and outreach centres more accessible as well. Plus, there's all the smog damage if you can manage it."

The cracking of Annabeth's knuckles was audible even for the microphones.

"Are there any surviving blueprints?" she asked, slipping her tablet back out from under her arms.

"Yes, all of them."

"Really? I thought city hall and everyone else was wiped out?"

"Many in the local government died," a touch of sorrow at people he had known, "but some survived. However, due to a quirk of how our city geography has evolved, the centre of the city where the alien hit first was where most of the politicians lived, while the physical city hall and all the bureaucracy were elsewhere."

"I see."

"Also the entire harbour has to be rebuilt. We're eternally thankful to our saviours, but one of them wrecked the whole place."

"Well, that's awkward."

"Very much so."

-X/\X/\X-

As soon as the trio were sitting in the car, Annabeth in the front passenger seat, and Percy buckled in the middle of the back, they all let the act drop. The billionaire's windows were tinted after all.

Even from here though, they could see the devastation wrought upon Gotham.

"You're never going to let the harbour go, are you?" deadpanned Percy, trying to kill the gloom before it could truly settle over them.

"We're thinking of building a lot of homes there with very low rent for people, and since they'll be owned by Wayne Enterprise, they'll stay that way," said Bruce with a touch of forced cheer. "No electrical or plumbing issues, no slumlords, and getting folks off the streets and someplace safe. Hardly a magic wand to solve things, but it'll be a start. Especially with the education and job opportunities we'll be pushing through down there. Diana and Victor were spit-balling some ideas about local sports clubs to help keep kids out of gangs."

"Your superpower's definitely money."

"Sure is making things easier, and finally I can ram through things I've been wanting to do for years."

"Can you afford it?" said Annabeth seriously and with a touch of concern.

"Yes," said Bruce confidently. "And even if I couldn't, well, going bankrupt to accomplish this is the sort of thing my parents would be proud of." He did not add that his ancestors past them had tended to be racist, elitist, and generally everything he hated about rich folk, so he considered making them spin in their graves a bonus. "Besides," he added with a touch of cheekiness, "if I do lose the house, I've got some new friends now to crash on the couch of."

"We'll take Alfred, you can go with Diana," said Annabeth with amusement.

"Smart choice."

There was a moment of happy levity between them, but then they knew they had to get back down to business.

"Before you give us the situation in Gotham," said Annabeth, "I should tell you that I'm confident my secretary, who you met, has figured out the broad strokes that you're Batman and recruited us to fight against aliens."

Fingers flexing a bit against the wheel, Bruce said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Victor's not set us up with secure communications yet, and she indicated that she's covering for us. As are several other employees. Don't be surprised if you get word of our scandalous affair with you."

"You making a donation to the aquarium so I could have more time off didn't help," smirked Percy, even if he also felt guilty about it as they drove past more burnt out homes.

"Ah, I see," said Bruce, settling down. "And you were teasing me before about my playboy cover."

"Yeah," conceded Percy with a bit of a chuckle.

"That was why I was acting familiar with you at the airport," added Annabeth.

"And to think you two were calling me a slut before," said Bruce with theatrical indignation.

"No we didn't!" she protested.

"You were thinking about it."

"Now I'm thinking what your position is during our wicked threesome with the older playboy," said Percy sarcastically.

"Oh please, I'm shameless about it by this point."

"Slut," deadpanned Percy.

A beat, and all three broke into laughter, which they dearly needed.

"Alright, alright," said Bruce, wiping his eyes a little. "Let me fill you in." He coughed a few times to kill off a few more chuckles, and then, "For starters, as you've heard on the news, they've declared martial law over Gotham. The military bringing in relief aid, reassuring people, and keeping the looting down."

"While also seeing if Flash or Superman missed any alien bodies or guns," sighed Annabeth.

"Of course."

He continued on to specifics, before shifting towards what he was asking of them. Estelle Designs genuinely was going to have a lot of work to do, and Wayne Enterprises had bought up a bunch of construction companies. Especially since many had been on the verge of bankruptcy due to the sheer destruction or loss of key personnel.

"While Annabeth's fielding that, what do you want me doing?" asked Percy.

"Stick to Annabeth."

"I could use a gopher," admitted Annabeth. "Especially since the rest of my people are going to take longer to arrive."

"And to make sure you eat and sleep," added Percy.

"As well as some visible muscle when I have to do on-site inspections," she added idly. "The army's all well and good, but they can't be everywhere." Yes, she could probably bench-press a tank now, but Percy could actually play 'menacing, overprotective husband' without anyone asking too many questions.

"We don't have to worry about local crime for the time being," said Bruce, and there was an indecipherable mixture of emotions in his tone. "We need to be heroes in other ways."

"Yes," said Annabeth simply. Then a smirk came over her face, pride and ambition shining through. "And I honestly can't complain about making my mark over an entire city like this. By the time I'm done, these buildings will last for centuries."

"How?" asked Bruce, equally curious and grateful for the change in topics. "I assume you want them to remain eco-friendly."

"I've got some advantages other architects don't have," she conceded. "When you grow up with Satyrs and Nymphs, Hephaestus kids have a lot of incentives to figure out eco-friendly materials, and I memorised how to build them. Then I patented them here under fake identities, and then started using them for my previous works. They're not openly public yet because certain parties don't want to admit they exist."

"And you allow that?"

"I've been using it to help build a case to cut those companies off at the knees for profiteering at the expense of the environment, and then truly push them forward. Instead we're doing it in Gotham. Actually using those materials properly, maximised structural engineering, readily available maintenance, and modular designs to allow for future improvements, are all on me."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, while ignoring Percy's preening in the rear-view mirror at his wife's genius.

The architect in question allowed herself to enjoy her husband's praise a little longer before she remembered something. "Oh, and our accommodations."

"I've got a hotel room—"

"No," she said.

"No?"

"No," repeated Percy. "Your people need them worse than we do. Nobody'll really pay attention to where we're sleeping or not, so we'll just camp out in the Batcave."

Briefly Bruce considered making a joke about that being scandalous, before dismissing it. It was honestly a surprise he had been this much at ease with them as is.

"We've camped out in worse," continued Percy. "And this time we had time to grab our personal stuff. Like some blue cookies, tooth brushes, that cool cream of yours. You get it."

"I'm surprised you didn't have all that in your emergency travel bags."

"Those are for emergencies. We can survive without that stuff if we have to, but that doesn't mean we have to like it."

"His morning breath is awful," deadpanned Annabeth. "And the drool—oof! You've no idea."

Bruce's lips twitched into a smile as he drove.

-X\/X\/X-

"Hey, Supes, why don't you take a break?"

The Kryptonian in question looked up to see the foreman of the construction team waving at him. "Way I hear it, you've been up for forty-eight hours on this. Grab yourself a bite."

Other Gothamites threw in their own encouragement, and Flash popped up beside Superman holding a pile of wrapped sandwiches in his arms. "Lunch? Brunch? What time even is it?"

Chuckling a little, Superman accepted a sandwich, knowing Flash would need the rest. "Thanks."

"Mind if I show you something while we eat?" added Flash. "Don't worry," he added earnestly to the workers grabbing a break themselves, "I'll make sure he gets his breather."

"You do that, Red Knight!" called someone.

"It's Flash. I'm the Flash," corrected the speedster awkwardly

"Sorry!"

"No, no worries!" he tried to reassure.

"Sorry Flash! The Flash! Sir."

"Right, sure," said Superman. He tipped his head at the crowd, and they dashed off, only to reappear in an empty apartment. "Thanks for that," he sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"Yeah, getting out from under everyone's eyes," nodded Flash, releasing his own long breath and plopping down on the couch. "Never realised how exhausting it could be."

"To always look strong," nodded Superman, grabbing a chair.

The two of them had been working non-stop, especially as neither of them had much to worry about in terms of secret identities, or had other ways to contribute.

While also helping out with his old neighbourhood, Cyborg remained busy going over all the digital pictures, files, or whatever on them. Including hunting down any copies made. It was fairly serious, because beyond the regular need to preserve their identities, Mera's life depended upon no one knowing she had been here. Thankfully he had already edited any footage of her to make her a few inches smaller, a few touches to her body shape, some subtle indications that she was creating the water she used, and a few more details to not only provide a certain princess with an alibi, but hopefully also make any investigating Atlanteans assume she was some other 'royal bastard' like Percy was assumed to be.

Meanwhile, Diana was going incognito amongst the refugees to ensure they were being properly taken care of. Offering kindnesses and a ready ear, identifying potential problems, and seeking out the sort of injustices that the authorities would rather ignore in favour of the so-called greater crisis. This was something she had literal decades of experience doing, including going unnoticed if she wanted to; and that was without the ability to literally turn invisible.

Of course, both of them had also done a few public displays as well as the situation called for it.

Still, it occurred to Superman that this would be a good ice breaker. "No worries about anyone back home missing you?"

"Oh, no," said Flash, pausing in shovelling down food. "Well, I did need to quit my job, but saying I'm coming here to be part of the volunteer relief worker programs sponsored by Wayne Enterprises isn't anything people can complain about. They just think I'm still in transit here."

"Sorry to hear about that."

"Oh, don't. I didn't even work a day. Plus, it was minimum wage so it isn't like I'm missing much. I might drop by later to see those dogs though. Although! I did get to pop by the prison to tell my dad, and he's proud of me. Wait, did I tell you my dad's in prison? I told the others he is, and they promised they'd look into it."

"No, you didn't," said Superman feeling a tad awkward, yet carefully nonjudgmental. "You know he's innocent?"

"Yes," said Flash firmly.

"Well, then I'm sure we can work out a solution. What about future employment though?" Convicted parents felt like the sort of thing to save for later.

Accepting the topic change, Flash said, "Well, get this," he said with a knowing smirk, "they say that Bruce Wayne's going to act as a character witness and reference for any of the volunteer relief workers. So that'll be perfect to help get a better job."

"Quite the guy," said Superman with his own smile, aware that their billionaire acquaintance had apparently also handled his Ma's money and mortgage problems.

Silence fell for a few moments, which Superman felt comfortable in, until Flash broke. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make it awkward, but it's so awesome to be working with you! You were my hero! Are my hero!"

"Thanks for that," added Superman, caught between embarrassment at the praise and pride that he had inspired another superhero.

"Oh hey, no problem! Always up for grave robbing to bring somebody like you back!"

Superman coughed as he choked on his food at that.

"Uhm. Right. Did we ever tell you the details about that?"

"I . . . would rather talk about it later. A bit distracting. We can cover your dad and how I can help at the same time."

"Cool! Sure! I mean—"

Grinning not unkindly, Superman waved a reassuring hand. "I get it. We're kinda of outside the usual rulebook on social interaction."

"Hah! That's for sure."

Their meals finished, Superman glanced at the clock on the wall. "A five minute break sounds long enough to you?"

"Yep." Superman gave him a quick look. "No, really, I mean it. I'll just get antsy standing around otherwise."

"Okay then."

In a light jog for them, they found themselves back with the whole group they had been part of, and throwing themselves back into clearing roads in a blur of motion.

"Hey, Superman! Flash!"

Both heroes paused to see a young man waving at them while holding his iPhone up to record. "You know when we're going to hear more about those two in the camo gear? Or, well, a ducky-shirt for the guy later. Or the other lady with the sword?"

"Uh," blanked Flash.

"They're choosing to maintain their anonymity for now," Superman promptly said, more used to being interviewed like this. "We'll readdress it once things settle down in Gotham."

"Righteous! Thanks man!"

"My pleasure."

"Let you get back to your thing."

Giving a friendly nod, Superman and Flash did just that.

-X/\X/\X-

A Few Days Later

It was a room decorated with such wealth that many would kill for the chance to take a part of it, and all of the people seated around the table had indeed killed to be a member.

Crystal chandeliers, with candles using wax from fresh sperm whales. The table cloth hand sewn from a reclusive little community in Europe, one that supposedly never sold to outsiders. Painting frames done in gold with subtle jewels. Endangered or even extinct taxidermied animals upon jade pedestals.

However, all the decorations were of owls.

Even the masks each person wore as they sat in a circle were that of an owl, each and every one of a blank, white design, with a subtle indication of a beak. Although underneath it was obvious they were all wealthy, outrageously so given the quality of their suits, the gems they wore, the style of their dresses, the cut of their hair, and the ooze of power, authority, and status they all excluded.

The Court of Owls.

Representing generations of the shadow rulers of Gotham City.

Or what had been Gotham that is.

Any interference by the Batman had been weathered, despite the irritation at how even their wealth could not uncover his identity. The occasional 'honest cop' immune to bribery tolerated, or still manipulated. Politicians developing a conscience left to fend for themselves.

An alien invasion was something else altogether.

The city's infrastructure had been decimated. Their influence into the military presence was not as firm as they would like; especially as apparently they were experiencing their own crackdown by the CID after an imposter had infiltrated the S.T.A.R. Labs base. Moreover, many of the gaudy 'new wealth' in the city had fled to safer harbours, taking their money —the only thing they had been good for— with them

"We are all in agreement the situation is inexcusable," began their spokesperson. "We've lost many of our pawns, and Gordon has used the opportunity presented by the rebuilding to flush out more of them. Of those he misses, many officers see this crisis as grounds to forget their obligations and debts owed. Instead of taking advantage of the power vacuum, the gangs are cowering out of sight, licking their wounds. The reconstruction efforts also threaten the segregation we've carefully cultivated. There is also the risk of our private rooks being discovered during clean up."

"I recommend more drastic measures than our usual," spoke up one of their younger members.

The others assessed them, well aware of the hunger for violence which was only vented behind closed doors at their private retreats. Their glee when they made people fight to the death.

Taking their silence as an invitation, they continued, "Wayne and Batman are our two greatest thorns. One's charity efforts are now having an impact, and his endorsement is galvanising those naïve fools who think they run this city that they can change it. They feel protected to do so, as the scum and lunatics of the streets fear that Batman now has his so-called Justice League to support his efforts here. So the answer is simple:

"We kill Wayne, just as we've done before with his family. Bloodily. Publicly. And it will all fall apart."

Unspoken was the knowledge that past efforts to kill Batman via their manipulations had failed, and they had to assume the Justice League would pursue those responsible with abilities the Court currently did not properly understand.

"Wayne is however helping in the rebuilding," another member tried to reason. "The city prospers, we prosper. As it has always been."

"Not if it means more power to the rabble. Not when our own control and influence is being undermined. If all else fails we can start over from the ground up. For now though we make a dramatic if deniable display of power to teach the so-called mayor and her ilk who truly rules this city. That there's nowhere safe for them if we give an order."

Murmurs of support spread throughout the room, so the objector kept their silence.

Satisfied, the outspoken member of the Court nodded to a figure standing within the shadows, who tapped a button, and a wall split apart to reveal a massive plasma screen. "This is what I have in mind." Displayed upon it were official details of a certain offer to Wayne, and everyone instantly understood what was being suggested.

"It certainly has potential," acknowledged one individual, gently stroking the head of their four-year child sitting on their lap, also wearing a mask. "Just so long as the Talons themselves are not caught performing the act. Only the results."

The rest nodded their agreement, and they began to lay out the specifics.

-X\/X\/X-

Batcave

A few days later

Through the dark lair, a goddess moved. A divine being of Wisdom. Crafts. Architecture. Strategy. War. One whose tale even as a mortal was a saga of boundless courage, intelligence, and determination. Unflinching in her resolve. Uncontested in—

A loud, jaw-cracking yawn escaped Annabeth as she made her way into the main space of the Batcave, still wearing her pyjamas and bunny slippers. "Morning."

"Morning, Missus Jackson-Chase," said Alfred, already laying out her breakfast. "I'm afraid that Master Wayne isn't in. He had to run off to investigate something."

"Mmhmm," she grunted, grabbing her coffee. Usually she did not need it to function, but usually she was not up all night rebuilding a whole city whose previous urban planners had been inbred, drug addicts unable to conceive of a world where automobiles were becoming fashionable. As she sipped it, Annabeth slowly remembered how to speak. "Anything special?"

"I assume you've heard of Lex Luthor?"

"Unfortunately. Met him too. Tried to shove candy into this woman's mouth, so Percy threw part of a display at him. Took a little work to cover that up."

"A shame there's no footage of that," said Alfred, surprised and dismayed at the lost opportunity. "If perhaps for the best. The short version though, is that he learnt both Master Wayne and Master Kent's identities, and was subsequently locked up in Arkham Asylum. We just learnt however he had engineered his escape coincidentally at the time of the invasion, and was subsequently killed in the mayhem. Master Wayne is just verifying if it is him."

"Ah!" said Annabeth. "I'll be very much interested in the story there once I've the time."

"I'm sure you will."

The familiar sound of clanking footsteps heralded the arrival of their resident cyborg.

"Annabeth."

"Victor," she said, looking up from her sausages and pancakes to give him a nod.

"Where's Percy?"

"He'll be back in a minute. He just popped upstairs to use Bruce's shower."

"Definite oversight," teased Victor. "Batcave's got state of the art vehicles, disguises, and all that to fight a war, but no shower. Well, short of the quarantine shower."

"I don't recommend it," said Alfred dryly.

"Oh, Victor," said Annabeth, spinning the beads of her necklace, "I forgot to ask. We all good for what went down in Metropolis?"

"Well I'd like you and Bruce to help me follow up on it, but it seems the cops and soldiers involved are all claiming they didn't see anything which might identify anyone."

"Huh. Well, that's nice of them to lie like that. Even if yes, we should check they're not saying anything privately. Later though."

As she said that, she put her bowl aside, having shovelled the food all down. Without missing a beat, she turned her attention to the pile of guns which had been waiting beside her. Her personal new guns in acknowledgement that a Desert Eagle would be like a peashooter for her.

Despite all his other obligations, Alfred had still found the time to design them, with his various machines assembling the finished products and spares. A normal person would snap their wrist trying to fire this sort of recoil, and even the pistols weighed as much as a regular rocket launcher. Consequently, the ultra-dense rounds also had to be custom built.

Perfect for the next crisis. Particularly for the next alien invasion they were all anticipating.

While she had only ever fired them at the underground gun range (usually used more to assess firearms for cases), she still disassembled them for cleaning.

Of course, she was already anticipating when they successfully reverse-engineered the plasma guns for the next generation of weaponry for her.

"If not too much later," warned Victor.

Huffing, she nodded. "Yes. We need to prioritise the relief and rebuilding for Gotham, while not getting sucked up into it and forgetting the bigger picture. Or, me getting too absorbed in rebuilding the whole place."

Raising an eyebrow, Victor sat down across from her. "I think you're being a little too concerned about us being concerned about your ego. 'Sides, there's other matters piling up."

"Like?" she said, ignoring the embarrassed tinge to her cheeks.

"While the League's extremely popular right now, there are some growing concerns about how little anybody knows about three members in particular. Not even a name. It's small, and seems to be genuine, not anybody trying to push it to make people distrust us, yet, there. Maybe best put some thought into heading it off."

Frowning, Annabeth tapped her plate. "Some more public appearances by you and Diana too. Including making your names known. Show people that we're together. As for me, Percy, and Mera, I'll talk to Percy."

-X/\X/\X-

Batcave

"No," said Diana firmly.

"I already tried," said Bruce, head in his hands. Clark was still out there, and Victor had refused to give an opinion. Which meant he was a traitor siding against Bruce.

"Pleeeeeease~!?" pleaded Percy, puppy-seal eyes in full effect, to which only Annabeth was heartless enough to resist. Alas, the traitor was willfully complicit in this.

"No," said Diana, averting her gaze from the compulsion to trust and coddle him.

"But you wanted hero costumes and at least one public appearance. It works! Covers all the bases!"

"You know what," said Diana flatly, radiating disappointment as best as she could while still refusing to look at him.

"Urm," spoke up Barry, feeling awkward about it even as he tried to peacefully resolve the matter. All while unable to look away from Percy. "We'd be doing this without Mera's consent."

"It'll help conceal her identity, and it isn't an emergency," pointed out Percy more seriously. "She might not like it, but so long as it's nothing outrageous, she should be fine. We can always make changes later."

"Annabeth. Please," Diana all but begged.

"Percy likes it," she said, shrugging helplessly, unable to deny her husband what was causing him such glee. Demonic glee, in the opinions of the other heroes. "It's that or back to camo-outfits and him calling himself 'Wife Guy'. Which I am perfectly fine with too."

"And we don't want to use those outfits because they aren't inspiring to people. They're concerned, we get it," said Flash before one of the couple could. No one commented upon Percy's originally proposed hero-name. "That doesn't mean we have to do that!"

"You're just jealous," pouted Percy, looking as if they had torn out his heart and spat upon it. "Jealous you didn't think of it first, and that I'm actually a genius."

"Fine! Whatever!" said Bruce suddenly, throwing up his hands. "Just so long as it gets you ready for some public reveal and we handle that. Then the media can have an outcry about something else besides fearing heroes in the shadows or whatever they're doing."

"Yes!" cheered Percy, pumping his fist.

"It'll certainly give them something else to talk about," muttered Barry just loud enough to be heard. "Including lack of originality."

"You finally done?" asked Victor, coming to join them.

"Victor—" began Diana.

"Nope!" he said, raising his palms. "If they want to make a mess of things for themselves, they can go right on ahead. 'Sides, if it does work, it'll be great." Victor's attempt at reassurance fell short as everyone else could see how he was trying and failing to hide how hilarious he found this to be. Especially as he had to know how unlikely he was to hide it from the likes of Bruce, Diana, and Barry.

Nor was the current cackling of their sole demigod remotely reassuring.

With a groan, Diana turned and walked away, muttering about youths in Ancient Greek. And yes, she knew darn well in turn that Percy and Annabeth could understand her.

"Oh, and Percy?" added Bruce. "You don't get to talk."

"Yeah, that's legit," grinned Barry.

"Why not?" asked Percy, feeling offended.

"Because you'll say something you shouldn't."

"You don't know that!"

"Uh huh," said Victor, voice dripping with scepticism. "How about this?" He deepened his voice, and put on an edge of pompousness. "Mister . . . Lor, how do you respond to accusations that the Justice League is planning to take over America?"

"Utter nonsense," said Percy without hesitation. "My wife abhors an easy conquest, so she won't do it. And if she can't conquer the world, no one else can."

"Valid," said Annabeth, perfectly straight-faced.

"Did you rehearse that?" asked Victory flatly.

"Sweet, very sweet," deadpanned Barry. "But how's that remotely reassuring?"

"No, really," went on Victor. "Did you?"

-X\/X\/X-

In short order, the Justice League —and oh wow, they would never let Flash live that down— put together a plan for how they would do the reveal.

Unanimously they agreed that it would not be a major event. Focus could not be dragged away from the relief efforts, nor make it seem like the heroes hungered for attention. That this was just a response to public concerns.

Fortunately, it was very easy to arrange matters, Clark Kent happened to still retain certain 'contacts' who could tell him when and where reporters from the Daily Planet would be in Gotham. With the entire mess of the city warranting multiple reporters on top of that. At his recommendation, they would make their appearance with Jenny Jurwich, a senior reporter and assistant to the editor-in-chief, Perry White. Overall widely considered a trusted, reliable source.

The stage was set outside of an empty office building, where Jurwich would be going by, while the actors prepared for their roles within.

"Hi," Percy and Annabeth turned at the sound of the confident voice to see Lois Lane already all geared up. While her build was hardly a perfect double for Mera's, after all the digital alterations Victor had done she was close enough.

Granted, as gambles went, the deception was indeed a risky one, because if the truth got out it would mean revealing that Superman was willing to lie. Regardless of the cause, his word would become conditional.

Despite this, the Man of Steel had been adamant to go through with this if it would help keep Mera safe. That he had never actually met her was inconsequential; she was still a part of their team.

"We kind of got off on the wrong foot," said Percy shamefully, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry about that."

"Well, I'm sorry for kicking you in the groin, so we can call it even." Before he could protest, Lois continued, "Although credit to you for thinking to have armour there."

A beat as Percy considered the offer to overlook him nearly attacking her, and then he snickered. "Oh, it's a necessity. My wife loves to target there. Especially when we were teenagers, and it was her way of expressing jealousy towards a friend of mine who was a girl. Nothing says you don't have a crush on a boy like trying to geld him."

The reporter covered her mouth to keep from laughing, while the wife in question flushed in remembered embarrassment. "Well it wasn't like you were too dense to figure it out at the time, Seaweed Brain. Also, you didn't introduce yourself. I'm Annabeth."

"Oops! Percy."

"Lois."

Glancing out the window to see they were still on schedule, and remembering her conversation with Cheryl, Annabeth asked, "So how's Clark going to handle his secret identity now? Is he going to get a new one?"

"Oh, no," said Lois, smiling with happiness and a touch of second-hand embarrassment. "He's going to plead amnesia."

". . . Excuse me?"

"Head injury, and wandered off. Was presumed dead after finding personal belongings in the rubble from the fight which killed Superman, and it was a closed casket funeral. His mom and the priest involved are sure they can swing it. Anyways, after he's done helping Gotham recover, he'll pop back up, claiming seeing Superman helped him remember who he was. When everyone's assuming he's finishing his recovery, we'll actually be on our honeymoon."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you!"

"But what about the legal process?" asked Annabeth.

"And people will buy it?" said Percy.

"Bruce offered his yacht for the honeymoon, and that he and Victor would handle making him legally alive again. As their gift. As for buying it, similar enough events have happened before, and I'll be priming the people at the Daily Planet and elsewhere to help sell it."

"Sweet!"

"Yes. I—"

"Sorry, everyone," said Superman as he popped his head in. "Showtime."

-X/\X/\X-

Jenny Jurwich took a deep breath to steady herself as Superman darted back inside the building.

She had been shocked when he had approached her, and even more so when he had explained that it was for her to meet the remaining three members of the Justice League. Briefly he had explained that they were not ready to become public figures, yet understood the necessity of reassuring everyone. So she would get one (1) quick interview with them to get their names out.

Ruthlessly she squashed down the urge to ask why he had not asked Lois Lane, afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth.

"Okay," said Superman coming back out on the street. "Here they are." To her concern, he leaned towards her and whispered, "And apologies in advance . . ."

Deeply concerned, she whipped her head around to stare at him, before the sound of three footsteps on the pavement pulled her attention back.

"You've got to be kidding me," she flatly said.

"This, this was the compromise," said Superman heavily, hands on his hips.

All three were covered head to toe, wearing some sort of durable looking jumpsuit. Cloaks covered their torso, but through slight gaps, it could be seen that armour covered their chests, shoulders, thighs and shins, forearms, and groins, while their helmets were in a T-shaped visor.

In the lead, the first wore a bright red cloak, with a glimpse of a breastplate of the same colour, and green on their limbs. The helmet was also red, with green highlights. It should have been tacky or outright cringe-worthy, instead of coming off as intimidating.

The second had bright yellow highlighting their visor, and on their shoulder and knee-guards, with the rest a dark grey, including the cloak. Having a more modest colour coordination than the others making the design all the more striking.

For the final one, their armour and cloak were largely black, with gold highlights upon it. Carrying an edge of menace to them.

All in all though, it was unmistakable what they were dressed as. Even if the infamous one from the TV show only ever wore a cape.

"Mandalorians," deadpanned Jenny, turning to stare at Superman with intense eyes to try and convey the entirety to which she was unimpressed, and disliked his idea of jokes.

"We're hoping that Disney doesn't sue," said the hero resignedly.

"You are correct," said the lead . . . no, Jenny did not want to even think that word. Once she started calling them that in her own head, there was no going back. Instead she chose to focus on how the synthesised voice from the helmet made it impossible to determine the gender.

In fact . . .

With a more critical eye she took another look at their outfits, and processed now how they were as unisex as possible. The cloaks mostly covered them up, while slight gaps to see the armour were in hindsight obviously strategically placed to provide those glimpses, while making it impossible to tell the gender of the wearer. Particularly who was the man, and who were the two women.

Although I always figured boob-plates were stupid all around.

Right.

Rolling with it with all the experience of dealing with all sorts of lunatics, egomaniacs, and assorted nutjobs she met on the job, Jenny flashed her winning smile, held up her phone to record, and said, "So what should we call you?"

"Manda."

"Lor."

"Ian."

. . . This'll be my biggest scoop ever —yet!— and I hate you so. So. Much. Words cannot describe it.

I've got to get a beer with Lois later. Did Superman ever troll her like this?

-X\/X\/X-

"Never say I don't do anything for you," said Annabeth (a.k.a. "Manda") smugly to her husband (a.k.a. "Lor"), who paused in his cackling to lean over and kiss her passionately.

Honestly, he was not even that big of a Star Wars fan, but loved The Mandalorian all the same. How many wives could say they had made this sort of thing a reality for their husbands?

"No messes in the cave, please," said Alfred diplomatically as he looked at the Batcomputer at various reactions to the whole unveiling.

Star Wars fans were going nuts. Disney representatives were basically screaming "No comment!" as they fled from reporters. Opinion pieces were going all over the news feeds, including that Twitter had crashed in response to all the postings.

"Don't worry, Alfred," chuckled Annabeth. "We'll behave. Mostly."

"Please," Victor low-key begged. He had to live down here with them. Still, he could not deny finding this hilarious as well. The only issue being sure they did not take it too far.

The butler resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Truly Master Dick would have gotten along so well with these two.

Perhaps too well.

The thought hurt, yet it also made the man smile as he thought of happier times.

-X/\X/\X-

"—proud of the efforts Wayne Enterprises are part of," said the infamous 'Prince of Gotham,' Bruce Wayne, giving a bright grin to the camera currently filming him. Ever since the alien battle within his home city, the billionaire could be seen all over the city, throwing all of his considerable might into not only rebuilding what was lost, but restructuring the entire city to make it a better place.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," said the interviewer, following the man as they toured his house. Historically, the Wayne family had little patience with this sort of thing, consenting to only official statements outside of Wayne Enterprises headquarters, or the odd letter to the Gotham Gazette. However, circumstances had certainly changed, and he had accepted an offer for raising further awareness to the rest of America about Gotham's plight to help encourage more donations and other support. Doing it in his exclusive, ultra-rich modern mansion would further raise their ratings while he presented his bold new plans to renovate his city.

Of course, him being drop-dead gorgeous would do nothing to hurt the viewer count either.

It was even done live, so people could see it all fresh without any special editing! No chance to hide any dirty laundry he had forgotten about!

"We're actually using this as an opportunity to tear down a lot of intact buildings," admitted Mr. Wayne, walking backwards unerringly as he talked. "We priced it out, all available on the Wayne Enterprise website, to be cheaper and faster in the long run than changing all the wiring and plumbing. For actual construction, we're offering a lot of new jobs for people, and training too."

"But what about affordability?"

"Rent will be low, and not subject to being raised," assured Mr. Wayne. "While the full listing per city block is online, on average it will be—"

He tripped backwards.

The sound of flesh hitting a marble floor, and scuffling by the interviewer and the camera crew, when suddenly the camera started shaking and screams of shock and horror.

Everything blurred before focusing on the dead body Mr. Wayne had tripped over.

Obviously freshly dead, blood leaking from the caved in head onto the floor and the black outfit they were wearing.

"What the—" started a stunned Mr. Wayne before glancing to the side where his eyes bugged out. The camera-view spun around and hurried forward to get a look through the kitchen doorway to see another black-clad figure laying on the island with a steak knife sticking out of their spine. They were facing towards the camera, showing wide lenses over their eyes, and golden decorations upon a cowl covering their head to make them look like an owl.

"MR. WAYNE WHAT'S GOING ON!?" cried the interviewer, still off-screen. Gotham veteran or not, this was too unexpected.

"We still broadcasting!?" demanded Mr. Wayne.

"I—er," the camera shook a little, "yes sir!"

"Okay, whoever's watching this," said the billionaire with forced calm, "please call 9-1-1. Let's get into the kitchen."

They all hurried in, just as a blur appeared before the entryway on the other side of the kitchen before gunshots thundered anew.

Something, or someone dropped to the floor, and an older man walked in, holding a smoking shotgun. "Master Wayne," he said calmly. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, but we've got a little problem."

"The police are on the way," said his employer in obvious relief. "Where's—"

More gunshots came from another room, which were recognizable as pistol rounds. Smashing and crashing, followed what sounded like wood breaking flesh and bone.

"Of course," said Mr. Wayne mildly.

"Uhm, Mr. Wayne," said the interviewer lowly, trying not to let hysterics enter his voice, "who's—"

Past Alfred a blonde, gorgeous, and terrifying woman strode in, clothes and face splattered with blood, limping, holding one blood-covered arm pressed against her ribs, while in her hand was a pistol. Her grey eyes roiled like a storm, and flashed like lightning. "Bruce."

"Annabeth."

"You've got ninjas. Owl ninjas."

"I've noticed."

"Is this a Batman thing? People are jealous of him, so they make a theme on what hunts bats? Because I'm feeling insulted right now."

"I'm sure."

"Oh no, you've no idea."

The camera view flashed around as another man poked his head in. His attention was on the blonde and Wayne, so he missed how the camera crew was focused on him. While he was dry, he had a towel wrapped around his hip . . . and nothing else. Showcasing, a tanned, toned, and absolutely gorgeous hunk of meat. His abs would start wars, and people would build shrines for those eyes, and sonnets for his wavy hair. Incidentally, like the woman he was about half their host's age.

"I thought we were laying low?" he asked, still missing the camera drinking in all his gloriousness.

"Apparently I've got owl ninjas."

-X\/X\/X-

The whole interview picked up literally millions of viewers at a frankly incredible rate. It was noted later by the channel that only alien invasions and the reveal of Mandalorians got a hotter response.

Of course, for many it was less the whole 'ninja assassination attempt,' and more confirming the scandal that billionaire Bruce Wayne was being the playboy once more with his obvious romantic relationship with a certain CEO and her husband.

Twitter crashed. Again.

-X/\X/\X-

A teenage girl finished putting up her homemade posters.

On one side was the superhero who had helped save her baby brother, wrapped up in black with a secret sword and shield. So dark and brooding, without being scary like Batman was. He looked better this way than in armour, even if she could only guess that he was the one in black and gold.

To the right was a picture of Percy Chase-Jackson when he had been caught on camera half-naked.

Crooning, she sat back to ogle the men of her two different fantasies. "I wonder what you're doing right now?" she whispered.

-X\/X\/X-

"I can't believe I can't go to work for a few days."

"Wise Girl, you were 'injured,' remember? Because we can't have people wondering why an ordinary CEO, who spends some time at the range, got off literally without a scratch. We're just lucky your old handgun was nearby for you to grab, and we whisked you away before any actual paramedics noticed none of that was your blood. Now, when's Diana gonna get here?"

"We don't need her and her Lasso for the survivor."

"Uh—"

"They used an owl theme against me. The patron goddess of them! Trust me, even before I had this I'd be hunting them down, and now it only feels more personal!"

-X/\X/\X-

"—not possible!" exclaimed the hotheaded member of the Court of Owls. Everyone could hear the growing note of hysteria though as they feared being made into the scapegoat. "We had the place under surveillance beforehand, and the only one supposed to be there was the butler!"

"With the shotgun," sniped someone.

"They knew he had a military history! And there's no way some whore of his could do what they claimed! Never mind in the hospital, she should be—"

The candles blew out.

"What!?"

"Oh my—!"

"Wha!?"

"Mommy!"

Someone fumbled out their phone, and used it as a flashlight.

It illuminated a T-visor helmet.

Everything descended into darkness again as the screams began.

-X\/X\/X-

Bella Reál, newly minted mayor of Gotham City, strolled through the hallways of the opulent building while she tried to distract herself by planning what to do with it. It was very big and nicely constructed, while appearing on the outside to be a ramshackle and condemned apartment building. It would be ideal to move a lot of the freshly homeless into.

Another part of her wanted to burn this place down to remove the taint.

At minimum, all the ratty owl decor was definitely going into the flames.

She turned the corner and found herself amidst a sea of police.

Ones she could apparently trust, given how the first thing dropped off at her office and Commissioner Gordon's, was a detailed list of every corrupt cop in the city, with an accounting of all their crimes.

The commissioner was truly a godsend, and she counted her blessings that she had managed a good if professional relationship with him even before her ascension. She still snickered now and then at his joke at her celebratory party for becoming a city councillor where he had said the only thing worse than clowns was politics. You had to be there to truly appreciate it.

"Mayor Reál," the man himself greeted her, handing her a cup of coffee, which she accepted without reservation.

"Commissioner Gordon. Thank you. How much worse is it?"

She did not allow herself any naïve hopes about this, not given what they had already uncovered.

Gotham born and raised, she had seen a lot of horrible things growing up, except unlike others it had only fueled her need to change things to be better. It had taken everything she had to be elected city councilwoman, and then an alien invasion killed off the mayor, and a good chunk of the rest of the council, with the rest either having breakdowns or fleeing the city. Cue the rise of a grassroots, ultra-progressive, Black woman to being mayor.

A mayor who had not been sleeping much following said alien invasion, and now in less than twenty-four hours:

1) An assassination attempt upon the Prince of Gotham.

2) An unfortunately large chunk of the cops and judges in her city were currently being thrown into cells along with dirty prison guards, and trying to make that all work out.

3) The reveal that there had actually been some truth to that creepy nursery rhyme about a secret group controlling Gotham from the shadows.

4) A significant percentage of the city's remaining wealthiest were currently in the hospital for an extensive number of injuries. Most would be in body casts for months. And as a cherry on top, all of their children were under 'protective custody,' where really it was the adults who apparently needed protection from kids who had been groomed from birth to be monsters who would cheer at seeing people die, or butcher the helpless themselves.

It was a mess.

The human vocabulary was not suited to express the sheer and utter extent of what a mess this was.

One which was her responsibility to get a handle on atop of everything else in literally the worst year of Gotham's history.

Her responsibility was to fix it all up, and show how Gotham could handle a crisis better than say, off in shiny Metropolis. She would not be one of those cowards who abandoned her city after something as trite as some out-of-towners coming around waving around fancy guns as if they're the toughest bullies on the block.

"Worse," he grimaced. He glanced over his shoulder, and gestured her to the side, and when she saw the gurneys the emergency responders were hurrying along she moved faster.

"Dear God," she prayed softly as she saw the frail, damaged bodies being whisked to the hospital. Clearly former prisoners.

"Yep," he said darkly. "On a positive note, given all the evidence we've uncovered, once they're all out of the emergency ward, I'm deeply confident we can keep these psychos locked up. Blackgate at that. I'm sure the resident population would like a few words with them, especially given what we've uncovered on how this cult was deliberately worsening conditions there."

Usually she would have a sharp word or three for an officer of the law saying something like that, except she had a pretty good idea he was doing it mostly to keep all the other cops from snapping and walking off for some vigilante justice of their own.

"Their lawyers will have a thing or two to say about that," she said, stating the obvious.

"We'll find them lawyers as is their legal right," he assured her. "It's just that their first, second, and probably third choices of counsel are behind bars too."

"Right."

An awkward silence fell, so Bella tried a different track. "All this from that attack on Mr. Wayne?"

"From what we can gather, they intended it to be an example. Reassert their sense of control after being shaken up by the aliens. One of theirs owned the news company which made the offer for greater publicity, and as near as we can figure they were planning to kill Mr. Wayne and the camera crew off-screen, leaving it broadcasting live their bodies. Obviously that fell through because they underestimated his guests and home security, and then Batman and his new pals followed the trail before we could. Speaking of which, how is Mr. Wayne?"

"It seems," and she could not help the smirk on her face, "he and his friends have apparently gone to a private medical resort to recover. An official statement from WE said he should be back in a few days to get back to rebuilding the city. He is however going to have to put up a new defence to justify all those contracts with Estelle Designs. Mrs. Jackson-Chase might be the best, but, well . . ." she trailed off suggestively.

Snorting in amusement, the Commissioner nodded. "Yeah, after all this he'll have to prove there's no nepotism involved. Still, I have heard good things about their work."

"Oh yes, we definitely want her involved. If the owl-ninjas didn't scare her off."

"They're called Talons apparently."

"I don't want to give them the satisfaction. Is there a way we can make owl-ninjas go into the official reports instead?"

"The use of the preferred gimmicks and terminology of the involved serial killers is discouraged," he said studiously. "Takes attention away from their victims."

"Perfect." She gave him another look. "Alright, spill."

He grimaced, and glanced around to gauge how close his officers were, making her brace for whatever the latest nasty surprise was. "It might be more accurate," he murmured barely loud enough to hear, "to call them zombie owl-ninjas."

". . . What," said Bella in a dead tone.

"Apparently they were corpses which were somehow reanimated. It's not entirely clear if they still had any of their old personalities, and even if I wanted to know, which I don't, Batman destroyed their equipment and records on the how of it. Which, honestly, as much of a mess as it's going to cause, I'm grateful for."

That . . .

Firmly she repressed any thought on that to save for a private freak-out at a later date, and in the meantime would wait for Gordon to get more information. Or for a certain vigilante to pop up in her office to give a few details.

She had heard the stories.

This was going to be a nightmare. The church groups alone when this inevitably got out . . .

Swallowing back bile, she started to say something before giving a cough as she knew she had to regain control of her voice first. ". . . We're going to have to go federal on this, aren't we?"

"Yes, ma'am. Some of the files we've found . . . definitely cross state borders. International borders even. And certain parties are going to want to sweep this under the rug. All of it."

Bella cut off the urge to curse. As much as it was deserved, best not to break her habit lest she do it publicly. "Alright. Fine. We can't allow for that. Moreover, this is a Godsend. We'll ride and leverage the wave of Batman's popularity while it's high to get federal support to seize these monsters' assets under civil forfeiture, and pour them directly into rebuilding our city. Full transparency on every cent."

Offhand she could not say it was entirely legal, but right now she did not care. She was not kidding about how incredibly popular the Justice League was, and once this started to leak, well . . . she could idly suggest to the governor that Gotham might riot otherwise.

. . . Assuming he was not also implicated in this unholy mess.

"This was apparently a generational thing," said Commissioner Gordon smugly, obviously thinking along similar lines. "Using assassination, coercion, the whole lot to build and maintain their wealth since nearly this city's founding. So we can argue that literally everything they own falls under civil forfeiture. Should be an interesting case to make . . ."

"Very," snorted Bella. "Plus it'll keep Wayne from owning half the city before we're done."

-X/\X/\X-

Estelle Designs

Cheryl whistled to herself, and stubbornly chose to remain focused upon how from everything the news was saying, Gotham was soon going to have all the money they needed to fund their rebuilding efforts.

Nothing more of note had happened recently.

-X\/X\/X-

Georgia Aquarium

"You guys seen the latest news about Percy!?"

"Yes, Hank, we've all seen the news!"

"No, I mean what they published in the Gotham Gazette!"

"We don't care!"

"Yes we do, you're just jealous that it's not you with Wayne."

"Well he's certainly not going to admit to being jealous of Wayne, eh!?"

"Dude. Shark. Tank."

"I'm just saying, we finally get to see Percy without that shirt on, and a few days later the whole world sees him like that? Where's the justice!?"

"Oh my god."

"Don't deny your own thirst! Including for his wife!"

"I won't deny I don't want him looking at me like he did that ex-marine who was groping Carly's butt. And that was before he broke the perv's jaw."

"Nah, I don't buy it."

"What?"

"I said I don't buy it. No way are those two letting someone else in. I mean, you've seen how they look at one another. The only people he's better at connecting with than the animals is his wife. Almost like telepathy."

"Well then how do you explain that!?"

A hand slapped the wall where pictures of the couple were up on a corkboard that was supposed to be for announcements, yet now resembled a conspiracy board more.

"Easy. They didn't want to kick people out of the limited housing left, so the man offered them a guest room, and didn't want a scandal like this happening."

"Ah-hem!"

Everyone froze and turned to look at the director staring at them very unimpressed. "I believe your breaks are over," he said with perfect civility. "And take those pictures down before HR gets involved. I don't want to lose our best employee—"

"And source of donations," muttered someone safely in the crowd.

"—over sexual harassment charges."

Unspoken amongst them all was that they really did not want that with a billionaire's lawyers possibly involved.

Or Annabeth.

Percy had broken that ex-marine's jaw. His wife had broken the knees of his three buddy's, and was rumoured to have made their lawyer run away sobbing.

-X/\X/\X-

Wayne Manor

Irritably Annabeth unwrapped her fake bandages from her arms, supposedly from one of dozens of private medical facilities which took their confidentiality seriously.

Contrary to what the public had been told, the owl ninjas had not even broken her skin. They had gone from trying to scratch her with their clawed-gloves, to flailing with increasingly desperation like a kitten trying to harm a tank.

It had only gotten worse for them from there.

Regardless, they had wrapped up the entire organisation. Especially thanks to help from Diana and her Lasso, and Victor owning everything digital the cult had. All of which had been turned over to the mayor and commissioner.

Putting the props aside, she planted herself down on the couch of the living room, taking some well-deserved relaxation after making video calls all day. For all that she had been in bed the entire time, her restlessness meant it had hardly been enjoyable. She grabbed her tablet, and let herself drift into lovely, lovely architecture.

Immediately Percy came to snuggle up against her side, leaching off her continued frustration at not being able to properly work with Estelle Designs while she was 'on bedrest.' In the meantime, Percy was acting as her messenger for things which could not be done online, ignoring the looks people kept giving him.

For now though, he was scrolling through his work email account on his laptop, which was diligently translating into Ancient Greek. He was updating himself about how the aquarium animals were doing, even if the people keeping him informed could not understand their charges like he did. Her Seaweed Brain knew every fish and sea animal all by name after all, and missed them as much as his Human co-workers.

"You sure you're okay with all these rumours?" asked Bruce from his favourite chair, looking up from his own tablet which was displaying a particularly scandalous tabloid article. Half the city was still being rebuilt, but it was clear where some priorities lay. He'd dealt with —and instigated— rumours like this his entire adult life. He was used to it, but that didn't mean Annabeth and Percy would be comfortable with the idea.

"Works out for me," said Percy with a grin. "I just got a message from my boss extending my holiday time, and what I think was them trying to be subtle about encouraging you as an investor."

"Please," deadpanned Annabeth, hands flying as she worked out a wiring plan for the new harbour office. "Why would we settle for you when we could try and lure Alfred into our bed? I'll bet he's more experienced, sexy accent, made me new weapons, I clearly have a thing for sarcasm, endlessly patient and supportive, and he can cook."

"People assume she married me for my personality," said Percy cheekily, "while really it was for my mom's recipes."

"Alas," said the man himself with dry humour, even as Bruce tried not to flush in mortification. Thinking about Alfred like that was—ugh!

"I'm no homewrecker, and I've already got enough drama in my life," continued the 'butler.' "Also, you'll get my recipes over my dead body; and maybe not even then."

"This group's already done grave robbing and resurrection, Bruce's Boss, what's one more?"

"Actually, we never got to do that ourselves really."

"Ooh, good point!"

"Ah, thanks for the reminder; I need to update my will. Cremation and scattering my ashes it is."

Bruce dropped his head into his hands as he regretted every life choice which had led him here.

Why did he want friends again?

-X\/X\/X-

Xebel

Mera had made a brief visit home to be hailed as a hero by her people.

In reality, it was more as a reassurance from King Orm to her father and his court that she was free to do so, and hear from her own lips in private what had happened with the Mother Box.

Which she had, regaling them with the tale of her fight and subsequent escape. Giving reassurances about the precautions she had taken approaching so close to the Surface World, never mind how she was stronger than any —than most— of them, and could even kill all the Highborn here if she so wished. Describing what she had 'witnessed' on the boat's 'media box.'

Every second of it, she dared not show the slightest hint of the truth, or what her feelings about the Surface had grown into. She could not even enjoy her new dress, a flowing thing of shifting shades of red which complimented and drew attention to her own mane of hair which was also part of her bloodline.

After hours though, she and her father, King Nerseus, retreated to a more private room with ranking generals and members of their court. Not that she dared relax, lest she be putting blood before the sharks.

"Everyone," said King Nerseus, clapping his hands, "to celebrate this occasion, I've brought out some Black Gold that my great-grandfather set aside for preservation."

Murmurs of appreciation swept through the room, and Mera made a mental note to reserve some Black Gold for herself when she was actually alone and able to let down her guard. Waiters appeared, laden with trays covered with the special algae and its narcotic effects; the equivalent of liquid alcohol her people had developed down below.

I hope Percy and the others are finding the time for some happiness. To be themselves.

The alien thought surprised her briefly, as it conflicted with her sense of duty. Her people, all Atlanteans, needed her to be here and doing this. As distasteful as it may be, lacking the black-and-white honesty of the battlefield, being here in this room with these people who guided the currents of their world was essential to ensure peace had a chance.

"I truly am grateful that you're alright," said her father, resting a hand on her shoulder, which felt warm and firm. A steadiness in uncertain waters, and yet he could never know the truths of what she had done.

"Thank you," she said, and oh how genuine that felt, and she did not know how to feel about that.

"What's more, you've brought honour to our people by safeguarding that ancient charge. Will you continue to do so?"

"Orm has chosen another to take up the role," demurred Mera. "And in all honesty, I'm fine with that. It," a taste of genuine hesitance, "it wouldn't be the same."

He gave her a sobering look, and patted her on the back more like a fellow soldier. "It is no small matter to lose those under your command. Always remember though how they died knowing their lives were spent in service of all Atlanteans, and you honoured their sacrifice properly. No more could have been asked of you." A little quieter, he added, "Only remember you will have to do it again someday. Understand?"

In lieu of a direct response, she softly said, "I ensured their families will be cared for out of my personal funds."

"Hmm," he hummed noncommittally. "And they can rest easily knowing the leader of the attack is dead."

"Indeed," said Mera with deep satisfaction. "My only regret is not delivering the blow myself."

"Ha ha! Just like your mother!" he chuckled, which the assorted courtiers took as an excuse to drift forward to throw in their own acknowledgements and praise, especially of how Mera resembled her late mother. A woman she did not even know beyond stories and pictures.

This baseless flattery continued on for a few minutes, before her father's voice cut through the Highborn rabble, every word dripping with venom. "However! It's apparent it was the Surface World responsible for stirring up the Dark Ones."

"Really?" she said with surprise, only half-feigned. Why that immediate assumption? "How do you know?"

"Who else could it be?" said one courtier with a laugh.

"Hrmph," grunted their liege, reaching for another piece of the rich algae. She knew however that the palace servants always ensured their king only received the less potent varieties disguised as a higher grade. "We did nothing to provoke the Mother Boxes, and given what we have uncovered, the leader of the incursion focused his efforts on the Surface as opposed to here, where the world's strongest nations lie. What else can we conclude from that?

"And it appears this bastard, this… Percy Jackson is mixed up in it as well," he added with a touch of contempt. "Even if they tried to hide it."

"How do you know?" she said, and he glanced at her in surprise at the sharpness of her tone. "Forgive me, I'm just— we haven't heard from him in so long."

"Understandable," he said, scowl returning. "I sent some people to spy on some ships as discreetly as possible, and they're certain it's him. What other person alive uses the magic of the seas alongside something as primitive as a sword?"

"I see," she said, nodding in acknowledgement. "It's good to have some idea of what he's been up to at least."

Except you don't know his real full name, she thought. And I doubt your people have stooped to using the internet. Although we can't be assured it'll stay that way.

Nor do you truly know him.

"He will never claim the throne of Xebel!" cried someone, which many other men took up.

"Indeed he will not!" declared King Nerseus, turning to lightly touch Mera on the cheek. "He will never claim what is yours."

"Thank you, Father," she said kindly. Then she raised a knowing eyebrow, "Although what of Atlantis?"

"Hah!" he barked. "The lad has strength to spare, so he can take that crown if Orm is unable to keep it. Just so long as he does not think of laying a finger upon you."

Gut clenching, Mera recognised the danger of someone suggesting a marriage between them to claim both crowns under her father's influence, so she promptly said, "No more than Orm will rule Xebel."

"Hah," he repeated, although with less force. "Exactly."

It was a sore point for her father that Orm had hoped to leverage his betrothal to Mera as a means to unite both kingdoms. Unfortunately for him, her parents had been very firm in the wording of the treaty with Atlantis and had only done it because they had been unable to trust their own court with her hand or safety at the time; not when both of her older brothers had already been victims of their schemes. To even be 'worthy' of marrying her without voiding the agreement, Orm had been forced to prove himself by completing various trials, and their firstborn would come home to Xebel as its future ruler when they came of age.

Although Mera doubted either man truly appreciated the power which lay in raising a future monarch during their formative years.

"But what if the bastard exposes us to the Surface?" protested another noble. "Sells us out to them! They already pollute our waters, slowly starve us, deny us the sun, and who knows what next? How long shall we tolerate it?

Mera's mouth opened, the words on the tip of her tongue, how they should not attack the Surface when they had repelled and killed the ancient enemy which Atlantis had feared for millennia.

Except more and more words of hate and contempt echoed around the room, and so she kept her silence in recognition of the futility of it.

To say nothing of how she dared not betray her true feelings. Forcing her body to remain relaxed and composed.

Truth. Truth. Truth seems in short supply for me these days, she thought, the words like acid in her veins.

Underneath it all though, there was something far worse:

Fear.

The fear of the hatred here within the heart of Xebel, fueled by these Highborn's own fear and ignorance of the Surface World.

I have to keep it from boiling over, she knew with a sick dread. Vulko and I, we're running out of time.

If we don't act soon, it'll mean war with the Surface World.

And it won't go as these men think it will. Not at all.

-X/\X/\X-

Author Notes:

I blame VixenRose1996 for the whole Court of Owls subplot. They made one stray joke about Annabeth and Alfred shooting people, and I immediately grasped onto the idea of ninjas. The Court of Owls were convenient, but then it hit me they were sending owl-ninjas against the goddess of owls and no way was I going to let that pass up. Bonus points, a way to show Batman being more successful with a team than he would have been on his own, a way to help clean up Gotham more, and having fun with people reacting to the videos.

They are also responsible for the chain of events which lead to me concluding that dressing up the cast as Mandalorians was a perfectly calm and rational decision. Also the TV show came out a few years earlier than in real life.

.

Yes, I killed off Luthor to wrap up that plot thread. He remained a threat given the secrets he knew, but ultimately he did not do it for me at all as a villain. I will not deny that Luthor can be an excellent villain, but I had no interest in reinventing the DCEU version of him into someone more interesting, and not so overly reliant upon plot convenience to make things go his way.

.

The bit about the alcohol-algae was directly from Young Justice, and their work to present what underwater life would be like. And you can bet it was one of the first priorities for the ancient Atlanteans to invent once they got over freaking out about breathing underwater! :-P

.

Martian Manhunter? Who is that? Never heard of him.

-X-

Please Review, and I will get back to you!