League of Justice #2.5 “Thoughts That Deck Our Kings”

Lt. Hallie Jordan and Diana, woman of nowhere, only spent a few hours at sea. It didn’t take long for the NAVY rescue choppers to find them. When they did, they were puzzled as to where Diana had come from, but they didn’t ask questions. That would be for Admiral Russo.

Admiral Russo was the commanding officer for this particular test aircraft program, and he was Hallie’s direct superior officer.

“So, Lt. Jordan. Care to explain where she came from?”

“Sir. Yes, Sir. She rescued me, sir. I crashed on an uncharted island, and she and her tribe pulled me from the water. Unfortunately, the aircraft did not survive. It broke up on impact. All I managed to recover was myself and my life raft. Being that her people were unknowns, I incinerated the aircraft, thus preserving the secrets it contained.”

“Horseshit. I don’t suppose I’m going to get a straight answer. Should I court martial you here or wait until after breakfast?”

“At your earliest convenience, please sir.”

“Fine. You are charged with insubordination and willful destruction of NAVY property. I hereby sentence you to drift aimlessly at sea for 36 hours.” He smacked a closed fist on his desk. “Now, considering time already served, I hereby release you from custody. You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” Hallie saluted and left the office. Diana remained.

“Now, miss, what are you and where did you come from?”

“In actual fact, Admiral, much of Lt. Jordan’s story is true. However, my people wish for total anonymity and seclusion. Lt. Jordan does not know where our island lies and I will not tell you. It is highly unlikely the United States NAVY or any other force on the planet will find it unless we wish them to.”

Admiral Russo cocked an eyebrow.

“That so?”

“It is.”

“Very well. So what do I do with you?”

“I request asylum in the United States of America as a foreign refugee.”

“Request granted. Look, I don’t know who you are or where you came from. I can’t formally do anything about you except either throw you in the brig or put you off at the nearest port. But, I do have a rather large jurisdiction when it comes to this program and its personnel. I will hire you as an outside survival consultant. How’s that? You won’t be a citizen, but you can apply for citizenship later. For now, you’ll work with Hal and under me. That work for you?”

“It does. Thank you, sir.”

“Welcome to the American NAVY, miss…?”

“Diana.”

“Diana. What, you don’t have a last name?”

“Diana Prince.”

“Welcome to the American NAVY, Miss Prince.”

With that, Diana was part of the team. As she was to find out, Admiral Russo’s unit was an oddball mix and one extra person suddenly part of the team raised few official eyebrows. Admiral Russo managed to concoct and present some of the best special equipment the US Armed Forces had ever seen, so he did indeed have much freedom to do whatever he damn well pleased. His superiors didn’t want to accidentally disrupt whatever good things he had going.

***

Well, that went well. I figured the Admiral would go for Diana. Besides, she’s pretty hot. I can’t imagine anyone turning her down. And, I’ve now got the hottest bunkmate on the ship. All those poor sailors are going to be so disappointed. Well, now to find that weasel who designed my jet and give him shit. After all, encounter an invisible force field and immediately go nuts a crash? What kind of jet is that?

***

Diana and Hal returned to Hal’s quarters. First order of business was to shower and get stowed. After that, they went to the mess for a hot meal. After a few hours of R&R, Hal and Diana felt almost human again. Nothing makes a body weary like being lost at sea. There were a few curious glances at Diana, but a few “Classified”s later and people started to ignore her. Anyway, she was with Hal and everyone knew about Hal so most people assumed that not only was Diana part of a top secret something, she was also playing for the other team. Whether she was or not was actually to be determined, something Hal wanted desperately to know, but wasn’t sure how to bring up.

***

So, do you want to have sex with another girl? Do you girls do that sort of thing where you’re from? Doesn’t really seem appropriate ice breaker territory. No, I’ll just have to play the long game on this one and see where it leads. Patience, Hal. Patience. All good, hot sultry things come to those that wait.

***

General Russo, given Hal’s ordeal, was kind enough to give her a few days leave. Besides, the plane was gone and there wasn’t much to do at the moment anyway. A test pilot is usually good only for flying things. With nothing to fly, no need for a pilot. So, Hal made use of the time well. She taught Diana all about American culture. Together they watched Star Wars, played ping pong and poker, had a hilarious night getting drunk and teaching Diana to swear, and no small amount of flirting. Diana, as it turned out, was a switch hitter. Nothing made Hal more happy. They hit it off well, and in no time were getting in plenty of batting practice. All in all, it was the best few days of Hal Jordan’s life.

Then, for the first time in known human history, humanity made contact with an alien race. That the alien died soon after contact was unfortunate, but also not the fault of humans. As first contacts go, it wasn’t too bad. But the nature of that contact changed the course of humanity’s future and Hal Jordan’s life forever.

League of Justice: #2.4: “The Hideous God of War”

Gotham City

“Alfred, do you know what I remember about that night?”

Bruce Wayne and his butler, surrogate father, and friend Alfred Pennyworth sat by Bruce’s father’s bedside at Gotham General Hospital. As always, the medical monitors beat out a steady rhythm, indicating that while Thomas Wayne yet lived, he was far from alive.

“What do you remember, Master Wayne?”

Bruce and Alfred were sitting in large chairs, as they often did these days, visiting Thomas. Since Bruce’s abduction by the terrorist Ra’s al Ghul, he had taken to visiting his father more often. Throughout most of his childhood and young adulthood he had avoided the hospital room, preferring not to be reminded of the night his parent’s died.

“I remember bats.”

“Why bats, Master Bruce?”

“There must have been some nesting underneath the rusted fire escapes in that alley. After the gunshots, I heard them squeaking and growing restless. Since then, I’ve often heard bats in my dreams, around the edges, squeaking.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, Master Bruce. You know, we have bats nesting on the grounds of Wayne Manor, now that I think of it.”

“Do we? That seems appropriate, then.”

“Appropriate for what, Master Bruce.”

“For what I am about to do, Alfred.”

“And what is that, sir?”

“I’m going to become the world’s first superhero.”

“You’re what, sir?”

“The world’s first superhero. I’ve been planning it my whole life. When my parent’s died, I vowed that such a horrible thing would never happen to anyone ever again. After a while I learned that such a vow was impossible, but I’ve also learned much about how the world works. One thing I know for sure: Gotham City is corrupt and full of evil. If I cannot rid the world of such evil, I will work to rid Gotham of as much of it as I can.”

“A lofty goal, sir, but you’ll hardly need to be a superhero to do so.”

“No. I could become a cop or a lawyer or politician, but all of those people have to work inside the law, inside the system. Our system is broken. It needs to be destroyed before it can be good and whole. Besides, I cannot be hampered by laws which I would have to obey. I need to be more than just another cop. I need to be a symbol, something for good people to rally behind, to support, to take hope from.”

“What symbol, sir?”

“I was thinking bats, Alfred. I was thinking of becoming the Bat Man.”

“Evocative. I assume this persona will also be a way to hide your true identity as Bruce Wayne, then, sir? To protect your ordinary self from the crimes of your super hero?”

“Actually, its the other way around. I am Batman. I am that hideous god of war. Bruce Wayne will be the persona that protects Batman from the crimes of the ordinary world.”

For the first time, Alfred looked sad.

“It’s nothing I haven’t already been doing, Alfred.”

“Oh? I haven’t heard anything about a Batman.”

“No, but there have been rumors growing of a Phantom Stranger…”

It took only a second.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing with your time. I wondered.”

Bruce smirked.

“But it is time for the Phantom Stranger to be replaced by an even darker and more powerful knight of justice.”

“How will you achieve this Batman, sir? Have you suddenly sprouted wings or fangs or some other extraordinary powers?”

“I am rich, Alfred. Anything I need I will either design or buy for myself. The rest of Batman is already provided for. I wasn’t lying when I said I was already Batman. Batman does not need super powers. He only needs resolve and the will to fight injustice. That resolve I have. Besides, during my time with Ra’s al Ghul, I learned much.”

“I thought you were being held for ransom, sir.”

“I was. But Ra’s said even a prisoner needs to learn. So he taught me the ways of his Underground. He taught me combat, tactics, deception, and even a little theatricality. He was not content for me to sit in a cell for all those months. After a few months, I learned what he taught to escape. I then traveled the world, learning what I could from other organizations. I spent time with the Israeli army. I worked with the Russian navy. I was even a smuggler for the Taiwanese for a month. There is a reason I didn’t return until November that year. I was in training. Now I am ready. I am going to attend Gotham City College, and start working at the Applied Sciences division of Wayne Enterprises. That way I can further my education, cement a reputation as Bruce Wayne, and develop the tools Batman may need.”

“A worthy plan, Master Bruce. May I say: I will assist you however you need. You see, I made a vow of my own, to your father and his father before him to always protect and assist the members of his family. As you are taking on the role of the protector of a city, you’ll need someone to help protect you. I am, as always, your humble butler, sir.”

“Thank you, Alfred. That means more than you’ll know. Now, if you don’t mind, I want a few minutes with my father alone.”

“Of course, Master Bruce. I’ll be warming up the car.”

With that, Alfred left.

So, the boy has become a man. Alfred thought. My instincts were correct and I am indebted to Ra’s. An angry, unguided youth left and a determined, purposeful man has returned. A batman. No, THE Batman. If I were Gotham’s criminals, I would tremble this night. An avenger is coming, and their time is now limited. I must now ensure that Bruce does not become lost inside this monster he seeks to create. I must not loose him as I lost his mother and father. I must work to protect the boy they entrusted to me.

League of Justice #2.3: “The Name of Action”

Unknown LexCorp Research Facility

Barry Allen lay on his cot, completely exhausted. For two weeks he had been systematically tortured by Lex Luthor’s barbarians of pain. He didn’t know where Luthor found people of such heinous, devious natures, but he was sure they were cryogenically preserved and reanimated ministers of the Spanish Inquisition.

“I’m so glad I didn’t go into the organic sciences.” Barry muttered to himself. “BIOLOGISTS ARE BASTARDS!” he shouted at the ceiling. “Human biologists must remove their heart during the first semester.” Barry was back to muttering. “WHAT, DIDJA RUN OUT OF STUFF TO POKE? YOU GREMLINS!” and back to shouting. All of this was for the benefit of whatever poor bastard drew the night shift. Barry found out early on that he was constantly being recorded, both sound and video. As his own little revenge plot he had begun taunting and verbally abusing the scientists who were watching.

“Oh! Pain!! My leg feels fuzzy. Now it smells green! It has the color of six!! Better check it out!!” After two weeks, he was beginning to crack. One thing was for sure, whatever psychologist they had evaluating him must be collecting data for the paper of his or her career.

In the objective, outside-Barry reality, he was being treated fairly well. He was given three nutritionally, and tastefully it must be admitted, prepared meals every day. He was made to exercise and perform a variety of physical and mental tasks. Most of that Barry would probably have performed anyway as to study himself in the wake of his accident. What he grew to hate were the constant blood draws and medical tests. MRI, PET, CAT, EEG, EKG, etc – he’d had all the acronyms and letters more times than he could count now. But even then, he was treated humanely and suffered very little physical discomfort.

Still, imprisonment is imprisonment. Tests without consent is abuse. Torture is torture.

He had tried pleading to speak with Lex Luthor, with anyone in charge, with anyone at all, but outside of his tests and questions about his feelings (mental and physical) he had talked with no one. Most of his responses were collected electronically by a computer that seemed to only run the medical testing software.

For two weeks this had lasted. In that time, the scientist part of Barry Allen continued to function. He knew that his physical responses had passed human athlete some time ago and were approaching the level of human extraordinary. His mind and his mental faculties now operated on a level somewhere beyond genius and at a speed never before seen. He could calculate large numbers in an instant, he had nearly perfect recall of everything back to his accident. His mind before the accident seemed flash frozen, he could remember no more or less about events and things before then than he could before. Knowledge gained before his accident was just as accessible now as then. But anything he had learned since, anything experience since, was recalled or remembered with perfect clarity and as quickly as if it had just been learned or experienced.

Emotionally, Barry was reacting just as one would expect. He was enduring, but with less and less patience as the imprisonment lasted.

It was in the beginning of his third week that Barry discovered just how much he had changed, just what exactly his accident had done to him, and just what the testing of the LexCorp scientists had unleashed.

He was running on a treadmill, breathing heavily, as he had been running for nearly twenty minutes. He had not slept well, and was more irritable and annoyed than usual. Every second that he ran his frustration mounted. Suddenly, he had more than he could handle. Out of sheer frustration, he yelled and ran as fast as he possibly could. It wasn’t very fast, but what happened next happened in a fraction of a fraction of an instant. There was a bright flash and Barry vanished. The wires that had been connected to his head and body simply fell to the floor, or dragged along the still moving conveyor belt of the treadmill.

From Barry’s perspective, he was running, and was very, very irritated. He was screaming to himself, mostly incoherently, and the only constant thought was “I must get free, I must get free, I must get free” he was repeating it like a mantra, one word for each footfall, pound-pound-pound-pound-I-must-get-free- when all of sudden everything flashed brightly and the lab vanished to be replaced by sandy hills and scrub brush and he was stumbling to a halt in the middle of a desert. There were no buildings in sight, no people, only bright, burning sun.

What the hell? he thought, as he started running up a small, sandy hill. What. The. He..flash. The desert vanished and he was in a dusty, dirty plywood city. More a film set, really. Wait…Barry recognized one of the buildings: Mos Espa? He was on….Tatooine?

Exactly four seconds later, Barry realized exactly where he was: the abandoned Star Wars sets in Tunisia, Africa. His frustration and irritation melted into total bewilderment.

“Dude, where did you come from?”

“Huh?” Barry turned around to see a group of overweight Americans. (They could only be from one country by their dress and accents.)

“Dude, you just appeared out of nowhere.”

“I, uh, I don’t know. Say, do you have any water?”

“Yeah, man, here.”

Barry drank the entire bottle that he was offered.

“Thanks. Uh, I need a ride to the nearest city. Any chance you could help? And anyone have a cell phone?”

Silence. Then: “Sure, dude, no problem. Back at the hotel. We were just about done for the day anyway. Come with me. Name’s Phil, by the way.”

“Allen. Barry Allen. Thanks, Phil.”

Phil helped him over the dusty white van that was waiting for them, a bored guide was sitting in the driver’s seat reading a newspaper. After Phil Opened the van door, Barry collapsed on one of the seats, totally exhausted, and immediately went to sleep.

He was shaken awake by Phil a few hours later. “Dude, we’re here.” Again Phil helped him out of the van and into the lobby of the hotel. It was a little rundown and threadbare, but it was serviceable. Thankfully Phil’s room was on the ground floor. Once inside, Barry collapsed on a bed, and again fell fast asleep.

League of Justice #2.2: “Conscience Does Make Cowards”

Isla Paraíso

“The air of paradise will stifle me till all I am is a shadow!” Diana was incensed. She had brought Hallie Jordan from the crash site to a luncheon in the meadow, and the matriarch had graciously agreed to let Hal return to the outside world, provided that she respect the secret of the island.

Another was chosen to escort Hal back to the shore and give her the rubber raft found in her jet and to point her in the direction of her fleet. Diana had wanted to be chosen. Diana had wanted to go all the way, to experience the entire world.

“Absolutely not! The Sisters of Paradise are exiles from the world. Out there is evil and death and the scrabbling of mad beasts. Here is civility and peace. You will not go!”

“Why is this the way of us?”

“In our good conscience, we cannot allow our gifts and abilities and our purity of soul be tainted by those beyond. The Sisters of Paradise seek true tranquility, and that is only possible in sequester.”

“Our conscience will make cowards of us all! If we are so much better than everyone out there, then we should be leading them! We should be helping them make themselves better! There is no superiority when it is hoarded, there is only selfishness and greed!”

“You are a foolish, small girl to not understand what is our purpose. You should meditate and think upon your sins. Return with a pure heart to ask forgiveness.”

With that, the interview with the Matriarch was over. And Diana’s decision was made. There would be no turning back. In the history of Paradise Island not a single woman had ever left. There was a hill, near the cliffs, were the sisters buried their own, year after year, and set an ornately carved statue over their grave. No statue would look over Diana’s grave. She knew not where her bones would crumble to dust, but it would not be here.

Diana returned to her dwelling, a small hut built into a tree. She gathered there her most precious possessions, really all she owned that was unique to her. She collected two bracers of an unknown metal. Long ago a meteor had crashed down upon the island. It was mostly rock, but at its core was a metal like none the Sisters had encountered. Her mother, a smith, had shaped it into beautiful bracers, covering from wrist to elbow. To date they had proven impenetrable and unscratchable. When her mother had died in an unfortunate accident, they passed to Diana. Her mother had been of the ruling line, third in line to be Matriarch. As such, she wore a singlet in honor of her office. That, too, had become Diana’s. She packed that, after all, she was a princess, even if it was of a people she was about to leave. An exiled princess…it had a melancholy ring to it. Next Diana grabbed a length of rope, more a whip than lasso. It was woven of high tensile cord, yet soft to the touch. It coiled tightly and resisted water and heat. Diana was an apprentice weaver and the rope was her graduation project. All that remained to make her a master of the craft was time and practice. Practice she doubted she would now get.

Diana dressed. She pulled on tall boots, tight breeches, a red corset, and over all a snug cloak of deep blue. Her crow black hair she pulled back into a tight braid. Beneath her sleeves her corsets gripped her arms. At her side her whip hung, waiting for action. Diana was ready, a woman seeking the wonders of a world beyond.

Before she left, she climbed to the top of the cliffs, and looked out over Paradise Island. She never intended to return, and wished to bid it farewell. Once there, she breathed deep of the island air. It was full of ocean, tinged with the earthiness of deep jungle, and the tantalizing fragrance of a thousand island flowers. She would miss her home, but she knew she must leave. Diana’s destiny was beyond the shores and shield, beyond the trees and tribal rules. Diana’s destiny was somewhere out there, in the wide world beyond.

Quite unintentionally, Diana found herself chanting a soft song of farewell:

Paradise, my paradise
I will see you no more
Paradise, my paradise
Sleep now and forever more
I will see you again, once upon a dream
I will walk your paths, bathe in a stream
I will run and drink your wind
To you my soul I will send
When I die, greet her warmly
Shelter her from the world’s storms
Paradise, my paradise
Remember me

Tears falling, she ran across the tops of the cliffs to a waterfall. Taking a single large, last stride, she leaped, into the empty air, down down down with the falling of the water, throwing her life to the fates. She crashed, splashed down into a deep blue pool at one end of a lagoon that led to sea. Breathing deep, once she reached the top of the water, she dove down again. Stoking hard, she swam out of the lagoon and into the ocean. It was cold and crisp and blue.

After about half an hour of swimming she spotted a yellow raft, with a single small figure off in the distance. Almost there. Diana’s freedom bobbed on the waves, guided by a female hand. Diana drew comfort from that, the fact that she was swimming from a mother’s embrace into the embrace of one that felt a sister to her, though they barely knew each other. A smile stole across Diana’s face, and she kicked harder. One last dive beneath the waves and she would be there.

Bursting forth from the water, she saw she startled Hal Jordan.

“What the hell?”

“Hal. It’s me, Diana. Can I come with you? I seek asylum in the United States of America. I can no longer stay in Paradise. I need to see the outside world. I need to walk it. Please, can I come with you?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sure. Though I don’t know how I will explain you to my commanding officer. But yeah, come aboard, sailor.”

Hal threw a mock salute and reached down to help pull Diana from the sea.

Diana brushed water from her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Her smile refused to fade. Everything now was new. Behind her the island had vanished into the night behind the Sisters’ shield, but Diana did not see it. She was looking ahead to the future. Grabbing a paddle, she helped guide the small craft across the ocean depths.

League of Justice #2.1: “Fly to Others”

An Unknown Island

Is everyone on this island female? I thought. Not that that is a bad thing, as I happen to prefer the company of women casually and sexually, but this is a little bizarre. Reminds me of some planet that Captain Kirk would visit: the Carefully Hygienic, Patently Beautiful, Stunningly Sixties Girl Planet. Ha. I crack myself up.

So, to recap, I was on a routine scouting mission testing a new type of combat jet aircraft, scouting nothing but what was supposed to be Atlantic Ocean when I hit something I couldn’t see, encountered a shit load of turbulence, and crash landed on a beach. And was found by a gorgeous woman who calls herself Diana. How’s that for a day in the life of a test pilot?

Apparently, somehow, this entire island is shielded which makes it invisible. No, don’t ask me, I don’t know how. It seems impossible, but then neither I nor the advanced sensors in the jet noticed the island I crashed into until most of my plane was crumpled, flaming metal.

Anyway, Diana is taking me to her people, I guess, who apparently are all women from what she is telling me. At least she promises food. Nothing makes a combat aviator hungry like combat aviation.

We finally get to a clearing, and it is clear they are shielding me from their society as they have laid out a picnic and I am told that a matriarch will come to see me. Yeah, don’t take the tiny outsider to your secret city on your invisible island. That’d be too much. I guess I really shouldn’t be so snarky. It isn’t like a castaway would get a tour of the bridge or the ops centre on the U.S.S. Enterprise if they were picked up lost at sea.

So, the food is good. Some sort of fire roasted animal, coconut and a few other fruits I can identify, plus a few I can’t. There are a few other women here, but none have said anything beyond introducing themselves. My god, are they beautiful. I would sleep with any of them at the drop of some panties and thank them for the privilege. No wonder they keep this island hidden. Every male and lesbian on the planet would be on their shores within minutes as soon as the word got out.

Sorry, I really must focus. Especially since the Matriarch is coming. And here she is. She is older than the rest, which makes sense. She welcomes me to the island, which is apparently called Isla Paraíso, or Paradise Island. I catch the eye of a particularly cute girl. Paradise Island, indeed – FOCUS, Hal. Focus! I am an honored guest, but will not be permitted to stay. I will be taken to the shore and sent off the island. No mention right now as of how, seeing as my jet is a burnt hulk. They will have someone go with me. Huh, at that, Diana perked up (heh- dammit, Hallie Jordan. Focus!). I bet she asks to go with me. She does and is denied. She looks super pissed. I wonder why. Oh well. They are clearing up lunch. I guess this is it. Another woman is introduced to me, Nepherie. Hello Nepherie. She is cold and austere and a pretty hot blonde. Oh, I give up. These girls are wearing nothing but white billowy robes. How am I not supposed to notice?

Anyway, ice princess takes me back through the jungle and to the coastline. Ah. Now I see how they want me to get home: my escape raft. How fortunate they recovered it from the wreckage, which I notice has mysteriously disappeared. All that remains of my unfortunate accident is a line of scorched earth. I’m obviously not going to be able to report the location of the island without my flight recorder. I guess I will have to report the jet lost at sea after engine failure or something.

Evidently these people know where the battle group is. Nice. Ice princess is giving me bearings to head to once I am at sea and away from the island. Well, nothing for it. Ice Princess wades out past the breakers to get me to calmer ocean, swimming the last part of the way. That was nice of her. She then dives beneath the water and I never see her again. I shrug. Her loss. I remove a plastic paddle from its straps and start paddling. This is going to take forever. Suddenly, the emergency beacon in my flight suit starts beeping. Oh, that will definitely help. I thought it was broken. I turn around and am shocked to no longer be able to see the island. I apparently just passed beyond their electronic frontier. Invisible islands. What will they think of next?

Still I keep paddling. No sense in sitting here idle. Besides, night is falling and the wind is picking up. It’s getting cold out here. I wish the island beauties had given me a blanket or something.

Something erupts from the water behind my raft. I turn expecting a dolphin or a shark or something. Instead, it is Diana. What the hell?

She is asking for asylum in the United States of America. A defector? From paradise? She is talking about how she feels trapped and wants to experience life outside the island. I guess that makes sense. I have no idea what I am going to tell my commanding officer about how I crashed into the ocean and somehow still managed to pick up a date, but I am sure with Diana’s help I can come up with something that sounds plausible. I haven’t decided if I will tell them about the invisible island or not. I wasn’t exactly told not to, but the matriarch did express a wish to remain hidden. Diana is telling me she’ll handle that. Oh good. I feel so much better.

At least she can help paddle. We strike our paddles into the water, and push towards the U.S. NAVY.

What a weird day.

League of Justice #2.0: “No Traveler Returns”

United Arab Emirates

Bruce Wayne stood and stared out of the window of his penthouse in the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. He was in Dubai for the annual Wayne Family Retreat, capital letters the way Alfred pronounced it, that his butler arranged for him every summer in the hiatus between school years. It was a chance to leave the gritty, dark streets of Gotham behind and experience the world. He had been all over the world to all the top cities since he was five. In the early days, Alfred went with him. Since he turned thirteen, Alfred sent him alone.

“You don’t need me to guide you, Master Bruce, or to hold your hand,” the butler had said.

And so Bruce was alone in the United Arab Emirates. He was looking forward to seeing the city, experiencing the night life, maybe even making a few friends. As it turned out, he would do none of those things. Alfred had other plans.

In a former life, before growing old and seeking work as a butler, and before being hired by Patrick Wayne, Bruce’s grandfather, to look after the Wayne family, Alfred led…a different life.

Alfred Pennyworth went by a different name. He was a different man. He was a soldier of fortune, a revolutionary, a patriot, an outlaw, a criminal, a brawler, and a gentleman. He fought in Laos, the Congo, Bosnia, Russia, Burma, Columbia, the Falklands – almost anywhere there was a fight, good pay, and the promise of a good time. He chased outlaws, terrorists, thieves, bandits – anyone whom he was commissioned to chase.

One man he was continually tasked to apprehend and bring to justice was a man labeled a terrorist by most of the world’s governments, a man named Ra’s Al Ghul. In all his years and all his time, Alfred only got close to Ra’s al Ghul on three separate occasions. The first, he had him locked in the scope of a sniper rifle.

“I’ve got eyes on target. Preparing to fire.”

“Roger, Falcon One. Firing is ordered.”

In the fifteen seconds it took to relay the message to headquarters, squeeze the trigger, and for the bullet to commence its flight, another man walked in front Ra’s al Ghul. Before the unfortunate savior’s body hit the ground, Ra’s had disappeared.

It would be years before the second time that Alfred got close, this time as a prisoner. Alfred was ambushed in the middle of the Sahara Desert on a hunt for a local militia leader while scouting by himself. The ambushers turned out to be members of the Underground Society, Ra’s organization. Alfred spent three weeks being interrogated and tortured before he gave up the location of the rest of his outfit. Ra’s was so impressed by Alfred’s tenacity and resistance to the abuse that he let him go and disappeared into the desert.

The third time that Alfred met Ra’s al Ghul, was two weeks prior sending Bruce to Dubai. They met at Wayne Manor, just outside of Gotham City.

“Welcome, honored guest.” Alfred bowed.

“I am welcomed.” Ra’s dipped his head in return of the bow. “Why have you summoned me here? Not to finally collect on my bounty, I presume?”

“No. I request a favor.”

“Interesting. Continue.”

“My ward, Bruce Wayne, has had a…difficult life. Because of this, he feels a yearning to fight injustice. He has tried to train himself to take on the injustice he sees, but he is unrefined, reckless, and lacking in formal training. I would ask you to give him the skills he needs.”

“Why me? Why a terrorist and an outlaw?”

“You once spared my life out of respect. I am hoping that man still exists. Bruce Wayne bears that same countenance. In another life, he could be your son, and I am too old, else I would train him myself. Besides, Bruce sees me as the doddering butler I have become. He knows nothing of the warrior I once was.”

“You are anything but doddering, my host.”

Alfred smiled. And with that, the interview was over. A sound outside the window drew Alfred’s momentary attention and Ra’s al Ghul vanished.

Bruce Wayne never did get to experience the nightlife of Dubai, at least, not until much later. That very day he was kidnapped from the Burj Khalifa. No one saw the kidnappers, no one knew anything. He simply vanished from his hotel room. His worthy butler flew to Dubai and demanded action by the authorities. He threw the weight of the Wayne name and fortune behind the manhunt, but for three months the effort was in vain. No trace of Bruce Wayne was ever found. Alfred returned to America and to Gotham to wait for the inevitable return of a casket instead of a man.

It was early November before Alfred saw Bruce again. By this time the act had become real and Alfred had despaired that Ra’s had actually killed Bruce.

It was a rainy, cold day in Gotham. Alfred was in the kitchen, brewing a bit of tea, when he heard the door to Wayne Manor open. He rushed out into the hall. There stood Bruce, but not Bruce. Alfred could see in his eyes, on his face, that a change had come. The wild, angry boy that left for the desert had returned a cold, furious man, molded and shaped.

Batman spoke.

“Hello, Alfred. Sorry I’ve been gone so long. You should probably call off the search now. I was…delayed. But I had a great vacation, thanks.”

Alfred smiled at Bruce’s wry humor.

“Master Bruce…I’m so glad you’re safe. Your father would never have forgiven me for failing to protect his son.”

Bruce smiled.

“I’m back and I’m fine, Alfred. I’ll tell you about it sometime. In the meantime, is there anything to eat? I’m rather hungry.”

Behind Bruce Wayne, Batman simmered, waiting to be unleashed. Ra’s al Ghul had trained him well.

League of Justice #1.9: “His Quietus Make”

Central City, Missouri

“Well, as far as I can tell, nothing is wrong with your vision. Perfect 20/20. As to why your vision suddenly got better and why your eyes changed color, I’m really sorry, but I can’t say.”

“Thanks, doc. I’m glad to know nothing’s wrong at any rate.”

“Well, there I can say: you are just fine.”

Barry Allen exited the ophthalmologist’s office reassured but still uneasy. It had been more than a week since his lightning accident, and he still didn’t have answers. And it wasn’t just his vision or his eye color that had changed. He was thinking quicker, moving quicker, everything about his life seemed faster somehow. And he couldn’t explain it. The best possible solution sounded like something out of a comic book: lightning combined with random chemicals, and charged heavy water mutated his cells. While such events weren’t unprecedented, usually death followed such mutations. As a rule, random mutations that were not evolutionarily based tended to be unhelpful. Cancer was a mutation. So were most genetic disorders. Mutation of things in the human body was usually a recipe for disaster. Somehow, Barry’s mutation was beneficial. Somehow, the lightning, the nature of the chemicals and his groundbreaking heavy water formula induced a quickening in Barry’s cells. He had noticed his metabolism was also getting faster. It was harder to get drunk, he was eating twice as much as normal and had lost extra fat around the edges.

Without a solid explanation and with a test group of exactly one, the only thing to do was to keep careful notes and go about his business. And business today was LexCorp. Lex Luthor’s mega-billion dollar corporation had research divisions into everything, and today’s research was heavy water. The experiment, despite the lightning, was still a success and Barry still had to present his results.

The LexCorp building was an smallish skyscraper, modest by Lex Luthor’s standards. The L-shaped Zephrymore Building in Metropolis that was world headquarters for LexCorp was head and top floors above all others, and would remain that way as Lex paid for a law to keep any other new construction shorter than a certain height. Barry shook his head and entered the lobby. How Lex built his buildings didn’t concern him as long as some subsidiary of Lex’s company paid for his research.

He walked up to the girl in the lobby, a Miss Lana Lang by her name tag.

“Hello, I am here for a briefing. Name’s Barry. Barry Allen.”

“Hello Mr. Allen. They are expecting you. Come with me.”

She led him to an-all glass elevator and up to a top floor. Off the elevator there was a glass walled room with a fantastic view of Central City. Also, there was a group of white coated scientists waiting around a conference table. Barry breathed deep. Lana noticed and flashed him a smile.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Half an hour later, Barry was unconscious.

An hour later…

Barry squinted into a super bright light. He couldn’t see anything else. He couldn’t hear much either. He tasted blood in his mouth and his head throbbed.

“Hello? What’s going on?”

Not expecting a reply, he was shocked to hear a kindly voice. It was being transmitted over some sort of communication system. More than that, Barry couldn’t tell.

“Hello, Mr. Allen. My name is Lex Luthor. I apologize for your treatment, but certain measures must be taken.”

“Wha..What is going on, sir? Didn’t you like my presentation on heavy water?”

Lex chuckled.

“It isn’t that, Mr. Allen. It is your remarkable accident that I am interested in. I read all about in the Central City Herald. Your girlfriend is such a…passionate…reporter when it comes to you.”

“You leave her alone!” Barry shouted, struggling against his restraints.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Allen. I have absolutely no interest in Ms. West, I assure you. I want you and your…abilities.”

“What? I can think fast, see better, and move quickly. You want that?”

“Of course, Mr. Allen. As your mind works quicker I am sure you can apply your abilities to say, a super soldier, or perhaps, an enhanced scientist, much like yourself, able to work much quicker towards a solution. Really, the possibilities are endless, and the applications limitless for a creature of enhanced speed. And to think, all this from a flash of lightning.”

“But I don’t know how it happened! I don’t understand it.”

“Oh, neither do I. But I do employ the best scientists in the world. Coupled with your research into your heavy water project and just a little cooperation, I am sure we will have the answer soon enough.”

“I’ll never help you!”

“Oh, but my dear Mr. Allen, you don’t have to, not willingly anyway. While you were unconscious my men took samples of your blood and tissues. We will keep you for observation and experimentation, of course. Your blood is only the beginning. And once we have our answers, we will let you go.”

Barry thought that unlikely.

“I think that is unlikely. I know who you are and I am not afraid to press charges.”

Again, Lex chuckled.

“Oh, but Mr. Allen. You are mistaken. It isn’t Lex Luthor who kidnapped you, not provably anyway. My voice can be faked, even my image, should you actually see me. No one you interact with will be identifiable. We are quite safe from your deluded ravings. Besides, I have a magnificent legal department. Last I heard you were quite penniless. Crime pays very well, Mr. Allen, and criminal lawyers are always worth the expense. No one cares about morality or even legality any more. The world is an economic world, and I have the only currency that matters: currency. Now, good night, Mr. Allen. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

With that, the lights snapped out, leaving Barry Allen in total darkness. He struggled, but uselessly.

“Well. This was an unexpected outcome of the briefing. And my mom wanted me to become a doctor.”

Quipping to the dark was meant to make it less threatening. It didn’t work.

League of Justice #1.8: “The Native Hue”

Central City Medical Centre
Central City, Missouri

Barry Allen awoke to a bright light and the steady beeping of heart rate monitors. He tried to look around, but found it was too painful.

“Dude, you’re awake!” The loud obnoxious voice was that of Barry’s best friend, Manuel Lago. They were randomly assigned roommates in their freshman year of undergrad, but now close friends. While Barry had gone into chemistry and the heavy sciences, Manuel was pursuing a PhD in applied engineering and mathematics. Often Barry would stumble on a discovery and Manuel could often figure out how to turn the discovery into a practical tool. Holding a few patents helped stave of starvation while the two continued their educations.

“Hush.” That was the soothing sound of love in the person of Iris West. Iris was a college newspaper reporter when she and Barry first met. She was covering one of his first big discoveries, and he was very eager to talk to her, though not necessarily about science. After a bit of a stop and go start, they became a constant couple. Iris now worked for the Central City Herald, one of the only remaining newspapers in the city, but still occasionally covered Barry’s work, though it had moved from front page college news to page six science column news.

“Hey you…how you feel?” the blurriness finally focused onto Iris’ lovely face. Her eyes were striking blue, and her hair the deepest chestnut. Barry felt he had never seen her as clearly before. Everything about her seemed to shimmer somehow. The colors were vibrant and effervescent.

Barry managed a groaning “oww” before he decided further audible communication would have to wait. His throat, lungs, and chest felt like they had been burned from the inside.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t talk. You were struck by lightning three times and inhaled some vaporized chemicals along with some heavy water. The doctors kept you in a coma for a few days to make sure you didn’t have residual damage. But they say you should be ok, it will just take time to heal.”

Barry managed a nod. He remembered the lightning, the chemicals. Everything hurt. He felt something soft and warm on his lips. A kiss. That felt good. He must have managed a signal of some sort because the good continued, longer this time.

“Get a room, you guys…” That was Manuel again.

“Actually, Manny, Barry already booked the room. Maybe you should leave.”

“Ha. Right. I’m sure lightning boy will be doing all sorts of loving. But I gotta go anyway. Take care, buddy.”

Barry felt Manny squeeze his shoulder, saw him look over into his eyes, then he left his field of vision, a field that was promptly filled with Iris, and Barry didn’t mind the switch at all.

“Hey lover. I’m so glad you’re ok.” Tears filled her eyes briefly before she wiped them away. “I was so worried.”

Barry held her hand and tried to look as loving as possible. Hooked up to tubes and oxygen and catheters it was hard to manage, but manage he did. At least she smiled back.

A week later…

Barry coughed. Doing so was still painful. He was out of the hospital and at home under strict orders to rest. His first night of rest with Iris was a bit vigorous, but since his bones hurt and breathing hurt, after that she let him rest in peace. It took nearly a week before he could move without constant pain, and breathe without feeling like he was inhaling fire, but he slowly mended. Actually he healed much faster than the doctors first thought, but it felt long enough to Barry. It was at a week that he noticed the first alteration in his body: his eyes were now a dark shade of crimson. Where his irises had been brown, they had lightened to red, with flecks of yellow. He was shaving in the mirror when it suddenly hit him.

“That’s new.” he murmured. Beside him, Iris was applying her makeup.

“What’s new?”

“My eyes. Take a look.” He opened them wide and stared into Iris’ crystal blues.

“Wow. They’re red!”

“Yeah. I wonder how that happened?”

“A reaction? Can you still see ok?”

“Yeah, in fact, better than I used to. I don’t need my glasses anymore.”

“What? You’re kidding?”

“Nope. I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist later, but as far as I can tell I’m fine.”

“Wow. All that from lightning?”

“No, I think the lightning catalyzed the chemicals I was working with. As the lightning was striking, a beaker I had in my hand exploded. I felt the chemicals splatter all over me. That must be it. Once I get back to the lab, I am going to run some simulations.”

“Ok. But take it easy, Bear.” Leaning over, she kissed him hard.

“I will. I promise. Oh! I forgot to mention, my laptop wasn’t plugged in when the lightning hit, so it continued to record data. My heavy water experiment was a success. I have a meeting with someone at LexCorp next week to present my results. This could be my big break!”

“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to cover it for the Herald. And then celebrate with you after.” She flashed a wicked grin before flouncing out of the bathroom.

Barry turned to follow, but realized he had only shaved half his face. Sighing, he stared back into the mirror and his new scarlet eyes and carefully laid razor to skin. By the time he was finished, Iris was just about to leave.

“See you later, darling Bear. I love you!”

“Love you, Iris. Happy reporting.”

She blew him a kiss and left.

Barry felt like the luckiest man in the world. After all, he had survived not one but three lightning strikes, still had a beautiful woman to come home to, and some new eyes.

Barry dressed for the day and wondered what else the lightning charged chemicals had done to him. He picked up his phone and sent a text to Manuel.

“Come to lab after class. Need 2 run xpermts.”

Barry felt charged with extra energy as he left the apartment and locked the door. It felt like there was an extra bounce in his step. On a whim, he decided to walk to class instead of riding the bus. It was a beautiful day, and good to be alive.

League of Justice #1.7: “A Weary Life”

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Little Dinah loved the smell of cookies baking on a rainy evening. Somehow the damp air inside the efficiency apartment made the smell carry farther, not that there was all that much space. Anyway, it made the apartment smell like love, because Dinah always knew her mother loved her as she baked cookies. The Drake family never had much money, and things like cookies were a luxury, at least the store bought premium cookies. But when her mother splurged food stamps on chocolate chips and made cookies, Dinah felt that something extra special was happening.

Even at 15, Dinah still loved the smell of chocolate chip cookies. Her mom was in the kitchen baking, and Dinah was doing her homework.

Suddenly the door to the apartment slammed open, the door jamb splintering under sudden assault.

“Where are you, whore?!” A massive white man with a thin mustache and slicked-back hair charged into the apartment. Behind him were two bald, white thugs with shiny hand guns. Dinah’s mother ran from the kitchen.

“Not here, Marko. For God’s sake, my daughter is here!”

“Shove it. Bitch aught to know what a whore her mother is. You busted up my friend.”

“He tried to rape me.”

Marko laughed, too loud and too long. “How can you rape a whore? Isn’t that what they are for?” His thugs chuckled. “Bitch, I sent you a premium client and you scratch up his face? Ain’t good for business.”

“Fuck you, Marko. He wasn’t following the rules.”

“Goddamnit, bitch. My rules. My friend. You are as stupid as you are ugly.”

Finally, Dinah had enough. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She thought her mom worked as a waitress, but apparently she had a side business as a two-dollar darling.

“Shut up! You can’t talk to my mom like that! Get out of here!”

Marko responded with a vicious backhand that sent Dinah sprawling. Before anyone could react, he pulled a small pistol and shot Dinah’s mother through the eye. Blood and brains splattered the living room wall. It was then Dinah found her voice. She screamed.

The sound was piercing, loud, and powerful. Glass everywhere in the apartment shattered, the thugs grabbed their heads, and Marko’s ears started to bleed. Dinah stood up and screamed again. Marko sank to the floor and lost his grip on his gun. In that moment, Dinah moved. She grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger again and again and again and again until she emptied the drum magazine. Blowback from what was left of Marko’s face had splashed all over Dinah’s face and shirt. He crumpled to the floor, his head a mass of blood and bone.

Dinah screamed again, this time the thugs just ran, wiping blood from their ears. Dinah fell to the floor sobbing. From the kitchen she could smell chocolate chip cookies burning in the oven. Dinah vomited.

Ten years later…

Dinah sat on her motorcycle as it idled at a stop light. Next to her a bakery was baking fresh chocolate chip cookies. Dinah could smell the cookies baking on the breeze. It made her sick to her stomach. She hated the smell of chocolate chip cookies. As soon as the light turned green, she revved her engine and sped through the intersection. She couldn’t wait to get out of Gotham.

After crying for what seemed like forever that day, Dinah had left the apartment. She never bothered to turn off the oven and discovered the next day that the apartment had burned down and she was presumed dead. The news suited her just fine. From that day, she lived on the streets, bound to nowhere and no one. She even left her name behind, calling herself the Black Canary.

Her mother had always called her that, because ever since Dinah was a tiny girl, she could sing with a beauty that brought tears to her mother’s eyes. “You are my little black canary bird,” her mom would say as Dinah sang and her mother braided her hair. “Sing for me some more, my black canary.” And Dinah would.

For reasons she didn’t understand her larynx could emit sounds at a higher frequency and power than any other she had ever heard of. She made her voice her weapon, as it could incapacitate people with ease, or at a close range, shatter glass, brick or concrete. She could even send resonant waves through metal. The Canary’s Cry she called it.

And so Dinah died, and Black Canary wandered the world, from Metropolis to Gotham and all points in between, and wherever she saw women being taken advantage of, or hurt, or under threat, she made a stand and usually left blood and death and a survivor in her wake.

Dinah never imagined living a life of a vigilante outlaw killer, but then, she never thought she would hate chocolate chip cookies.

Violence changed everything in her life forever.

Finally she reached a highway on ramp leading away from Gotham. Dinah wanted to hole up somewhere quiet and small town-ish for a while. She saw a sign for Metropolis and headed that way, but her destination was a city just outside Metropolis called Smallville. She had heard of a country fair there once, and thought they had a singing competition. Maybe she would enter.

She gunned the engine of her motorcycle and sped off into the brightening day. The storm was past, and a new time was shining through the clouds. Miles raced beneath her wheels and the highway sang a song of peace.

For a rare moment, Dinah smiled beneath her helmet.

League of Justice #1.6: “The Undiscovered Country”

Isla Paraíso

The sky was dark, and threatening, lit from behind the clouds by a sun that wouldn’t shine today. The air was heavy with water and warm, warning of a storm to come.

Her feet pounded against the heavy sand whump whump whump in uninterrupted rhythm. Behind she left divots marking the path she made since she left the jungle.

The ocean waves crashed against the shore, relentless as her footfalls. She let her mind wander their dark and restless surface, then below, where the wet things roamed.

She remembered a day when she went swimming, farther off shore than ever before, racing dolphins. She was faster than most, but there were a pair of wolphins, dolphin-killer whale hybrids, that outpaced her, the first time anything had beaten her in a race other than the wind.

She loved her morning run, especially when it turned from jungle to beach. Isla Paraíso only had beach on half the island, a good fifty miles or so. The other half of the island was comprised of rock cliffs rising hundreds of feet from the ocean floor. Thick jungle with a few plains breaking out of the overgrowth covered the rest of Paradise Island.

She snorted, then regretted it as the snort interrupted her breathing. Paradise Island is what she and her sisters called the island, but it really was anything but paradise. Situated in the heart of the Atlantic, it was prone to be swept by hurricanes, in season and out. It was full of dangerous predators. And, other than the several hundred women who called it home, it was void of intelligent life.

But, she then recalled, there was plenty to make such a place like unto paradise: myriads of exotic birds, thousands of wild flowers in all colors and shapes. Everything seemed to be so vibrant and alive here, like it was protected and blessed in some special way. The pace of life was slow, uncomplicated, unhurried. At least, that would have been paradise for someone that wasn’t her. She craved adventure and excitement, which was why she enjoyed her runs so much. It was the one time of the day she could escape the doldrums and move as fast as her heart desired. While in the jungle, she had to be wary and alert to evade predators and venomous plants and quicksand and dangerous muck and ooze that could ensnare her and leave her somewhat easy prey. She loved the way her pulse pounded when a wildcat caught her scent and swept along in hungry pursuit. Never really in danger, her heart nevertheless quickened with the sensation of being chased in an earnest life or death struggle. She was strong and deadly herself, but one wrong step would leave her vulnerable. She reveled in the excitement of winning the chase when, without breaking stride, she leapt up into the trees and ran along the branches or swung from vines, or when she flat outpaced the wildcat, leaving it breathing hard and searching for slower prey.

She ran barefoot, as always, and relished the sensation of digging her toes into the sand, grabbing it, and throwing it behind her as she ran. She knew that an endless spray of grit was being left in her wake. She again reasoned, like usual, that Isla Paraíso was a paradise to her as well.

Diana reached her favorite place on the shore, a large broken rock that jutted out into the sea. It was an anomaly on this part of the island, there was plenty of rock on the other side, but not here. Diana leapt to the summit, and stood watching the stormy waves. They were gathering energy from the coming storm, more angry and violent than before. She paused from her run, breathing in the tangy salt air. There were few smells, even among the heady aromas of island flowers, that she loved more than the smell of the sea. To her it was a wild call for more than she knew, for a life lived beyond the confines of the island, no matter how paradisiacal. She longed to see what was beyond the sea.

She knew of course that out to the east lay Europe, and beyond it, Asia. That beyond the rock cliffs lay America, arrogant giant that fancied itself a ruler of the world. That above lay an Arctic Circle, and below her island lay an Antarctic wasteland of frozen ice and blinding white snow. She knew the world was vast beyond the confines of Paradise Island, but she was forbidden to see it. Diana and her sisters lived in exile, and had for hundreds of years ever since they found the island. Using selective breeding from the few males who first came with them, and then later science of their own devising, the sisters maintained an entirely female population, ruled by a matriarch. The Sisters of Paradise, as they called themselves, were stronger, smarter, and more potent than most strong men elsewhere on the planet. They were almost goddesses in the genetic perfection they had achieved, and so they named themselves as gods. Diana herself was named for an ancient Roman deity. Diana was the goddess of the hunt, of the moon, and of the giving of life. Diana loved the association, though she often smirked at the presumption of naming one’s daughter after a goddess. She was proud of the heritage her mother bestowed upon her by naming her Diana, and always strived to earn it, day after day.

Dismounting the rock, Diana continued her run along the beach. A light rain began to pelt down from the darkening sky. Diana didn’t mind the rain, mostly she ran fast enough to avoid all but the occasional drop, unless it down poured which it seemed it would do any…now. The falling water was so thick it obscured Diana’s vision, but she laughed and ran faster. Nothing unleashed her soul more than the wildness of the elements.

A loud crack and boom sounded overhead, but it wasn’t lightning nor thunder. Breaking through the clouds, a military jet, smoking and on fire, dove towards the beach. Another explosion rocked the craft, though it little mattered. In seconds the vehicle smashed into the beach in a plume of sand. Diana ran towards it, defying searing heat and striking flames. There was a pilot trapped in the cockpit, a woman. Diana raised a fist and smashed it through the clear canopy. Grabbing the pilot she jerked her from the plane, and ran backwards. There was no time to spare as the rest of the fuel and munitions the plane was carrying exploded spectacularly. A dark, oily smoke rose to join with the dark clouds of the storm.

Diana laid the unconscious pilot out beneath an overhanging banana plant. The large leaves gave shelter from the falling rain. Diana gazed at the military aviator, noting a lack of injuries. She then allowed her eyes to linger on the beautiful visage revealed beneath the helmet, which Diana removed. Diana wondered who the woman was, and how her plane managed to pierce the shielding the Sisters had erected around their island specifically to ward off intruders from the outside world.

Diana smiled. This was different. This excited her more than the wildcat, more than the run, more than the storm.

This was new.