Twenty-Four Hour News Cycle

The news cycle was always busy. A crisis wouldn't stop that. The latest ploy Luthor had dreamed up wouldn't change that. The next story was being written even before the ink was dry on the one before it.

It was a typical day at the Daily Planet.

As the international liaison that the Planet sent out, Clark Kent was always kept abreast of every breaking story across the world. Sometimes, he'd slip away to do something about them. He had learned a while back that international politics was more trouble than it was worth, but natural disasters? A shuttle returning to Earth? Accidents where lives were in danger? That was a job that Superman could do.

His monitor was full of feeds, all keeping track of multiple developing stories, many of which he would be writing articles on. There were multiple Word documents open in which he was putting together multiple drafts, one of which was getting his direct attention as he cleaned it up and polished it for publication. It was page eight news, nothing that would share the front page with Lois, but he wasn't about getting the headliner.

Well, sometimes. He had to ensure his job stability.

From the speakers on either side of his monitor, volume set low so that he wouldn't disturb others and making sure of his hearing, he listened to other reports from across the world, both international and domestic.

Another report on the recent spat of time distortions concluded, several dignitaries attending a conference in East Africa were caught in one this time. Another report was about growing tensions in the South China Sea. The next, new updates in Eastern Europe. After that, a switch to something more domestic, like Hawkgirl's latest raid and capture. There was a story coming out of Gotham-

"-federal officials have cordoned off the old Gotham shipyard late last night after an altercation that resulted in the arrest of the international pirate known as the Black Manta. The Black Manta, also known as David Hyde, is currently behind bars at the Gotham jail. Officials with the Justice Department and the Department of Defense have been making requests to transfer the wanted criminal into their custody. Sources from Interpol have confirmed their interests in taking custody over Hyde for various violations of international law along with several other countries across the world making requests for extradition-"

Clark had to shake his head. This Black Manta had made a mistake going to Gotham. Too many did. He had learned the hard way, like many others, of why that was a mistake. No matter how the world changed, there were some things that stayed the same.

Like with Luthor and his latest scheme. The memories of that event caused him to pause, tuning out the continuous coverage leaking out through the speakers. After everything that billionaire tried to do, his latest stunt had found a place that the Man of Steel had not known could be hit.

Even with the scheme to brainwash him into a dystopian dictator, turning him against his friends and comrades, and unleashing an unstoppable android to kill them all, that hadn't been enough for Luthor. The man was determined as ever to crack open the secrets of metahumans' powers. He had tried a different approach recently, one that had led the Kryptonian to yet another secret LexCorp facility.

He would ask how many there actually were. He wouldn't be surprised if the number was close to that of Wayne Enterprises. This one was within a subsidiary of LexCorp, naturally a sub-basement deep underground.

Sometimes, he could see them, the tanks, and the growing lifeforms within. He shouldn't have been surprised, but of course Luthor would have an interest in cloning. If there was a way to gain mastery over life itself, Luthor would be the first in line. He'd used every means at his disposal.

Somehow, someway, he didn't know how, didn't know when, but there was a sample of his own D.N.A. out there, and Luthor had gotten his hands on it.

The facility had been clones of him.

Human cloning technology was still in its infancy, even decades after Dolly. Luthor's advances were great with a bar so low, but compared to some alien civilizations he had learned about? Still primitive. Now combine rudimentary cloning techniques and advances with Kryptonian D.N.A. and there were a lot of failures. A lot of death.

All of it under the streets of Metropolis.

There was one survivor. Clark still didn't know what to make of him. By all appearances, a teenaged boy, and one that was not interested in living among humans. That felt like a recipe for disaster, and yet he could not figure out what to do about it. The minimum was making sure Luthor didn't get his hands on the boy again.

It wasn't enough, and he knew it. He just didn't know what he could do. All the power in the world, perfectly willing to help anyone in need, able to lend an ear, and he couldn't figure out how to hold his hand out to a teen boy who had no idea of who he was, what he wanted to be, but as long as he wasn't normal, he was just fine.

In essence, a male teenager.

There was always the farm…

And then the report from Hawaii came in, and who should happen to be brought up? Ahhh…

"What's wrong, Smallville? Corn harvest not so good this year?"

Right on cue. Glancing up, there was Lois and she was giving a nod of her head to his computer. Right, how long had he been sitting there? If Perry had caught him…he didn't need that reprimand.

However, he couldn't let that quip about the corn go unanswered. "Actually, it's the Russian winter affecting the wheat harvest everyone should be worried about."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me how old I am. I get the reference, Smallville. Now you get back to your harvests."

Or the comings and goings of the world itself. It was a twenty-four hour news cycle and he had to play his part in it. His articles weren't going to write themselves.

Somewhere in the world, there was a job for Superman waiting, and he had to be listening for it when it came in.

When it came to uncovering secrets, it was sometimes best to start with what you knew, then expand your search to those you knew. Knowledge could be found in unlikely places, and so those nearest to you should be the first to be explored. Once exhausted, expand outwards, search for experts who knew relevant knowledge, build upon that. When you have gathered all you could, then you set out on foot to discover the rest.

This was far from where Diana had come from. When she had first left Themyscira, it had been with boldness, one proud step taken after another, and experiencing rather than preparing. There had been more than one occasion where such an approach had come with consequences she would have preferred not to have experienced.

With the passing of time came wisdom. Diana hoped that was true for herself. Wisdom was to prepare herself for a promise made to a maturing Cassie who had done her the honor of naming herself after her.

It was a request for knowledge, one that Diana was keen to fulfill. Cassie wanted to know more about the armor to which she was bound. The Amazon had noted the armor before, but had not yet approached the young girl about it. Cassie had certainly grown since her time leaving Gateway City, and there was a sense of pride that she felt for her.

She could not disappoint her. This challenge was one the dark-haired heroine would conquer. Thus she had begun her inquires byvisiting her own sources and experts, attempting to learn the basics of the armor first. By sight alone, she knew there was an otherworldly quality to that armor.

There was a feel to it, and it was a feel she recognized. Someone godly had forged it, and she had her suspicion as to who. But one did not confront the Gods without reinforcing their arguments. They were fickle, but if you could argue in just the right way, they would listen and then they would reveal. The lasso she wielded could bypass all of that effort, but Diana still respected the Gods even if they were silent at the worst of moments.

There was this…discomfort that came with the thought of using a tool of the Gods against the Gods. So it was to mortals that she turned to.

Mortal knowledge could not aid her this time. To her usual sources, friends and allies, she asked her questions and returned with nothing. Disheartening, but not disabling. There were still other sources to consult.

Her adventures had exposed her to other parts of Man's World, some of which not even Steve had known of. Speaking of, she hesitated with consulting with Steve. His involvement with A.R.G.U.S. had caused her hesitation this time, and this was stronger now after the revelations from Belle Reve.

The dark stories that kept coming from that place, it reminded her of the warnings that her mother and the other Amazons had given her. As her knowledge increased about that dreadful place, she wondered what Mother would think if she knew that it had been a fellow sister who was responsible for creating and maintaining it. This Amanda Waller contradicted so many of the teachings she had had growing up.

But Cassie's request held more importance to her. The armor's secrets were difficult to uncover. Not all avenues had been explored yet. From the young woman's own testimony, there was one place that she could go to to try and find more answers. This place was nowhere near Gateway City, however, but on the other side of the world in a country that called itself Cambodia. Cassie had been very clear about that.

Cambodia was unknown to Diana, and the location of the excavation site even more so. Determining which temple to seek out was important, and then following the descriptions Cassie had given her to find her way to where the armor had been held had to be accomplished first. Even now, the story she had been told about ruins of Greek design hidden in the temple of another civilization defied belief.

She did not have the same investigative skills as Shayera, Bruce, or J'onn, but she was resolved to keep this matter between herself and Cassie. It felt more personal to do it on her own, and with her history with Cassie, it fed the need to keep it between the two of them.

Diana knew at some point, Cassie's mother was going to need to be told what her daughter was doing. Cassie knew this too. Both of them had mutually agreed to not tell the Sandsmark matriarch just yet. This encounter was not one that the Amazon was looking forward to. Helena Sandsmark could be very protective of her daughter.

All the more reason to uncover the armor's secrets.

It was curious. What was the armor's purpose? Why was it created? Its powers and traits, who crafted them into it? Why was Cassie the one who wielded it? Whenever the Gods were involved, it was unlikely that it was coincidence.

Which led her to other sources, sources not fully of Man's World. The Oracle of Delphi, the Fates, those entities of Zues' Pantheon that had not withdrawn from the world, who had instead remained behind in shadows and secret. The Oracle was vague as was her wont. The Fates who were normally reluctant unless you paid their price were uncooperative. Before she could use the lasso's power, the Fates had fled.

The mystery had only deepened. So had her concern because what if there was something dark about that armor? What if Cassie was in danger from it? As much as she wanted to race to the girl's side and demand she remove it, Diana wasn't sure yet if it could be removed and if so, how to. More information was needed.

For all she knew, removal could be lethal as well.

It meant finding its initial resting place would be crucial. There would be information about the armor left there, and she knew how to find it based on her knowledge of the Gods' habits. Like the many mysteries she had encountered in Man's World, this mystery only seemed to get deeper and deeper the more she investigated.

It was another challenge, that was all. She would conquer this challenge as she had so many others. The only difference this time was that she was doing it for a friend, someone she cared about despite how estranged they had become over the years.

What more reason would she have than that?

Middleton, Colorado was not a place of great importance. It didn't stand with cities like Metropolis, Gotham, or Gateway. It didn't even meet the reputation of Keystone, Midway, or even Detroit.

Yet, it was the town that first introduced J'onn to Earth, so it held a place in his Martian heart. He had left it some time ago, finding that he best served the world by venturing out to it. Besides, Middleton was relatively safe, especially when compared to the likes of Gotham or Detroit.

However, there was a reason J'onn returned to this town. Amidst the turmoil he had been through in the last year, he had stayed away so that he could center himself, find some tranquility that would return him to his old self. None of that had worked. The others had their own issues, so leaning on them was not something J'onn wished to do.

He had kept tabs on the person he had come to see. Their marriage had failed, which was unfortunate. From what he understood, there were no ill feelings, just two people that realized that they could not continue their relationship in its current state, so a change to part ways was made. It was a rather mature decision in light of the other choices they had.

J'onn assumed a form that would be more welcomed than his humanoid Martian form. He was still as tall as he usually was, though he had a rather severe look on his face. Blond hair was groomed back, similar to an Italian mobster, or so he had been told. It was the first human form he had taken upon arriving here. It would be recognized by the person he had come to see.

Standing in front of the apartment door, he knocked on it, and returned his hand into the pocket of his trench coat. He knew she was home, his mental probing indicating as much. He sensed some irritation from his knocking, no doubt the woman wishing to be left alone.

It was several moments before the door opened and a middle-aged woman with fading blonde hair appeared. For a moment, she stared at him before her face lit up. "J'onn! This is a surprise!"

"Susan," J'onn returned the greeting warmly. "I don't suppose you have a free minute?"

"Of course I do! Please come in!"

J'onn entered the apartment, glancing around at the rather simplistic setup. It was as if Susan had moved in and had just settled in. That wasn't too far off from the truth if the lease signing two weeks ago was any indication. "I see you're moved in," he commented.

"Just finished unpacking," Susan confirmed. "I have to say, I'm surprised to see you. I almost thought you had forgotten me."

"I've been…occupied."

The woman stared at him before he sensed her mentally kicking herself. "I'm sorry, I forgot about your…home."

"It is already," he was quick to assure her. "I have had to spend quite some time coming to terms with it. I cannot say it has been easy."

"I wouldn't expect you to." She placed her hands on him, urging him to move to a couch. He allowed her to do this, taking a seat there. "Aside from that, how have you been?"

"Recovering," he answered. "Though it occurred to me recently that I had not visited you in some time. I sought to remedy it."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Fulfilling your duty to my father?"

Her father was Dr. Saul Erdel, the man responsible for bringing J'onn to this planet. He had built himself a teleportation machine and somehow teleported J'onn here during one of his experiments. It had been a jarring experience, to say the least. He had met Susan afterwards, subsequently promising the late doctor to keep an eye on her should anything happen to him.

Suffice to say, something had.

Though it wasn't anywhere near Bruce's promise in regards to Zatanna, J'onn did drop in from time to time, though he never intruded if he could help it. An in-person visit from time to time was all, though he did make certain to be informed of what was happening in her life. Thus his knowledge on her current circumstances.

"I was saddened to hear of your divorce," he told her. "And it saddens me more to know I wasn't there to help you through it."

Susan's face softened. "Dan and I…just didn't work out. It could have been worse—Dan could have cheated. Or I could for that matter. We just weren't getting along anymore, to the point where we both were dreading coming home. But surely you knew about that."

"I did not. I don't pry into your personal life unless absolutely necessary."

"Well, that's generous of you." Susan plopped herself into a comfortable chair. "But seriously, it's nothing like what you've been through. I can't imagine going through everything that you have."

"There have been those that have helped me—in their own way."

"That's good."

A silence fell over the room. J'onn knew he wasn't one for conversation, but this moment made him wish he was better at it. When it concerned his responsibilities, he was confident in himself to speak when needed to. When it was small talk like this, however…

Looking away, J'onn couldn't help but notice the television was on. The volume was muted, most likely done by Susan before she answered her door. On screen was a national news show, and it was currently reporting on something from Gotham.

There was a dark-skinned man, his arms restrained behind his back. A couple men were gripping his elbows while others held shotguns. They were walking down a hallway in some unknown location. A news banner at the bottom of the screen proclaimed BLACK MANTA PIRATE CAPTURED.

An arrest of a pirate in Gotham? That could only mean one man's involvement, J'onn was certain. Not for the first time did J'onn envy Bruce's ability to move past his traumas, of which he had plenty. No matter what had been thrown his way, he somehow bounced back from it, more determined than the last time. He wasn't one to dwell on failing to protect his teenage charges; he only wanted to make certain it never happened again under his watch.

The Martian wondered, if Bruce had been the one set on fire, would he need to isolate himself to overcome his disappointment in himself?

For some reason, he wished he knew that answer.

The market had a view of the sea, that and the ships that docked nearby. Here, you could purchase the freshest seafood around as the sailors from those ships brought back their boundaries. Assortments of fish, shrimp, crabs, lobsters, oysters, shark, you name it, if it could be caught in the netting, or in their traps, then it was brought back here for sale.

The smell of salt flavored the air, waves flowing across the beaches nearby. The cloudy morning was not inviting for those who would use the beach, but the forecast had it that the sun would make an appearance later in the day. For now, anyone in the area who wasn't either returning from the ocean or heading out into it was going to the market for purchases.

So many stalls, so many people waiting for their customers, some cleaning and descaling the catches of the day to make them more appetizing for those in the mood to buy. Seagull calls did not make for great background noise, and the subtle roar of the tide was too soft. Radios and portable TVs helped to pass some time and distract when needed. Others used their phones, but mostly for some music of their choice.

From a newly docked boat, a crew of men carrying plastic containers filled with both ice and numerous fish marched along the dock, heading for the market. Tightly laced shoes and work boots thudded against the wooden pier which bore the abuse without complaint. From there, it was up some concrete stairs, their approach slowing down until they reached the top. One after another, they began spreading out, heading to particular stalls to drop off their deliveries.

As one of the men arrived at a stall, placing his container on the counter and giving a greeting to the stall owner, his attention was diverted to a nearby portable television. This wasn't uncommon; flickering lighting from the screen tended to do that; all that mattered was that his attention returned to the stall owner to see about receiving payment for the delivery.

Nothing out of the ordinary until this man looked back at the television, and this time his eyes did not leave it for several seconds. What seemed to have caught his attention was the news. Not the most entertaining of choices, but someone must have been too busy to change the channel.

Perhaps it was serendipity or pure coincidence, but the story being reported on happened to be one from Gotham City. The banner at the bottom of the screen stated in no uncertain terms the capture and arrest of an international pirate and that the criminal was currently being held in custody. The man watched with curiosity, then figured he needed to get back to the real matter at hand.

Across the banner, the name Black Manta scrolled into view, and once more he zeroed his attention to the small TV. Other than this, he gave no physical reaction. There was a brief moment of agitation and some impatience, but once he concluded his business with the stall and its owner, he walked off.

Instead of returning to the boat to get another container, the man headed towards a section of the market where a restroom was located. It was the only building in the marketplace, and it was small, only big enough for two rooms with a toilet in each. He entered the men's restroom and locked the door behind him.

He approached the sink and the small mirror located above. Reaching up an arm, he placed his hand in the space next to the mirror and held it there. After several seconds, a glow emitted from the mirror. A blue and green glow coated the man's face and along the sides of his neck, flaps of skin pulled back.

"Reporting to Command," the man said. "I have just obtained intelligence that will be of great interest to the King."

The light from the mirror continued to gleam without a flicker. From it, a voice spoke, "Deliver your report, Kirkuk. We are listening."

Kirkuk immediately said, "I have learned the whereabouts of the Black Manta. He is currently incarcerated on the surface, in a surfacer city called Gotham. They are determined to hold him, but for how long remains unknown."

The response was just as immediate. "Your report has been received. If there are any details missing, inform us immediately. Return to your current assignment once you are finished."

Kirkuk did not nod; such a gesture would not have been seen. "Affirmative," he responded. What few details he had, he reported in, then signed out, his hand leaving the wall and the mirror dimming until it was a reflective surface once more.

Unlocking and leaving the restroom, the flaps of skin on his neck flattening until they were no longer visible to the human eye, the man returned to the outdoor market and back to the boat he worked on to retrieve another carton to deliver.

His eyes remained opened to every detail around him, always searching, always seeking out new information. The world he found himself in needed watching, needed to be watched for any movement or signs of aggression. This was how they protected themselves. The guises needed to remain unnoticed did cause some discomfort and empathy for the loyal subjects of the King who were sacrificed to feed the masses of surface dwellers. However, they needed to be aware of matters up here; it was too important not to have the King's eyes and ears placed in as many places as possible.

This was how he did his part in protecting and serving his homeland. Atlantis deserved no less.

Author's Note: A little expanding of our little universe once more, some hints of a story that, while not in the works as of right now, has a little point in the narrative established. If anyone is confused by Wonder Woman's part, she is picking up from the last chapter of Titanomachy and investigating Wonder Girl's armor.

Guest: Who says Batman didn't know about Atlantis? Batman certainly didn't say he didn't. Thanks for the review.