The Last Daughter of Krypton: World's Finest

[TearsoftheWorld]

Kara came downstairs from her old bedroom wearing an over-sized t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, and walking into the kitchen she saw her father standing over by the fridge with a container of milk in his hands (no doubt drinking straight from the bottle), and Martha was just starting to put food onto the plates.

"Smells good," Kara said with a smile as she sat in a chair at the table.

"Have you found a place to live in the city yet?" Martha asked before she put the pots with leftovers back on the stove.

"Not yet... but to be honest I haven't really had time to look. It's like a never ending battle," Kara said with a sigh as she slumped back in her seat.

"I'm sure you'll find something soon. We're very proud of you, Kara. You've grown up so much," Martha added before she gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

"Just keep your head up," Jonathan said rather simply as he joined them at the table, and Kara nodded her head as she sat up in her chair. Her adoptive father had always been a man of few words, but Kara knew that he meant well.

"Have you seen any of your friends yet? Have you talked with Rose at all?" Martha asked.

Kara took a sip from her glass of iced tea and then shook her head.

"I haven't talked to anyone since I've been back. I just... haven't really had much time. I've tried to be in so many places at once... it's too difficult to take time off. Plus my boss has been riding us pretty hard ever since 'Supergirl' showed up. He's got everyone working on the story. They want to know all about me..."

Kara once again slouched back in her chair, clearly frustrated by the whole ordeal. The young Kryptonian allowed her mind to wander for a little bit, and she turned her thoughts towards Rose and Kyle and the others. The last time she remembered seeing any of them was right before her 18th birthday.

Seven years ago.

I want to have the same last dream again

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose.

It was an interesting feeling, being held by Kyle, then being held by Shadow, and then being held by Wraith. Transformation sequences had always riveted Rose, had always been fascinating to her, but as amazing as they were to watch, they were even more an intriguing sensory experience when they happened in cool flickery goosebumpy proximity.

Shadows swallowed them, and then deposited them lightly upon green green grass.

It was far darker here, as sunrise here was further away yet, and Smallville was only lit by a tiny fraction of Metropolis' far-distant light pollution. Kyle could see well enough in the dark, and Rose's sharp eyes weren't blinded, but something about the moment caused Rose to lift her hand and cause molten golden fire to flare about her fingers, casting a glow before them.

She turned slowly in place. Got her bearings.

And walked towards her mother.

'Ceri Gwyneth McCrimmon,' the headstone read, the years of her birth and death engraved beneath, which had the unfortunate effect of making her seem like a biographical footnote, or a statistic.

Below this, there was a poem:

'At Twilight's End, the
Shadow's crossed,
A new world born,
The elder lost.
Yet on the morn
We wake to find
That mem'ry left
So far behind.
To deafened ears
We ask, unseen,
"Which is Life, and
Which the Dream?"'
-A.S. Diaz.​

Four years, she'd been gone. Just before that mess with Bruce and Kyle and Damian in Gotham, battling an age-old menace.

Four years, Ceri McCrimmon had been off either fighting her good fight still in other worlds and other planes, or perhaps simply getting some much-needed rest.

Four years, Ceri McCrimmon had been biding her time in Smallville Cemetery, not far from Mr. and Mrs. Lang, and Mr. Fordman, and poor dear Ben Reilly.

Rose stood over and beside her mother's grave with a quiet look on her face.

"Hello, Mum," she murmured.

She tucked a tendril of crimson back behind her ear, and she held up that hand with the ring on it, reflecting and refracting the gold gold firelight of her other hand.

"I'm sorry it's been so long," she shook her head, a faint little laugh on her lips, apology throughout. "But as you can tell, kind of a lot's been happening."

She glanced over her shoulder at Kyle, and smiled tightly at him. More tears were threatening their approach, and she wanted to say what she had to say before they arrived...

"It's, uh, Kyle," she murmured, returning her gaze to the gravestone, "but you're probably smiling and nodding right now and saying you knew that already..."

She shook her head. "I, um, I know you had trouble forgiving after he 'abandoned' me for all those months. And you had even a worse time forgiving him when he finally returned and materialised in my boudoir, I swear to you, I swear, we were just kissing and I elbowed over the lamp while I was..."

She closed her eyes, and those tears insinuated themselves beneath the eyelids, and she laughed a hoarse, broken, delighted little laugh. "Anyway. He's been treating me right. Making up for lost time, still, all these ages later. He's made my life something of a fairy tale. (And, sure, it's not without its action sequences, but what fairy tale doesn't have the odd dragon or obsessive huntsman or evil bitchy witch-queen? Sometimes all three?)"

Rose held out the hand with the ring on it again, gazed at it in her own firelight...

"He's been good to me," she murmured. "He never sleeps, he rarely tires, he never grows sick and never grows hungry and he's got the stubborn determination of a warlord born, he can be by my side in a thought and he commands whole unlit armies... you wanted me to be safe, and protected, and there's no better man than Kyle for just that reason."

Rose hesitated. "And he loves me, Mum. He loves me so deeply I can't even wrap my head around it. It's kind of... it's a kind of magic."

Rose raised her eyes higher, to the statue behind the gravestone, the granite-hewn elegant seraph with hands covering her eyes. Behind Ceri's grave was the statue of a Weeping Angel.

And Rose held out to Kyle the unlit hand, the hand with the ring on it, she held it out to him and beckoned to him that they might stand together before this visage.

Once he did so, she held his hand tight, and stood proudly with him.

"I'm doing what you told me, Mum," she murmured. "I'm becoming who I was born to be. And I was born to be with Kyle. I just wanted you to know, you know, that I'm happy. And that you should be happy."

She hesitated. And she bowed her head. "And, um. 'God be with ye.'"

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

I stayed back and let Rose have her time with her mother. I hadn't been there when it went down. I was doing something important. Hell, if Bruce asked for help, it was damned important!!.

But I hadn't been there.

And Rose lost her mom. And I lost her too.

I hadn't been there.

I was lost in thoughts and regrets when I noticed Rose motion me over. I walked over and took her hand, Mom's, no HER ring gleaming in the firelight she held in her other hand.

I'm doing what you told me, Mum," she murmured. "I'm becoming who I was born to be. And I was born to be with Kyle. I just wanted you to know, you know, that I'm happy. And that you should be happy."

She hesitated. And she bowed her head. "And, um. 'God be with ye.'"

I squeezed her hand. I knew Rose was crying now. I didn't have to look, I could feel it in her touch.

"Hi Ceri. I'm here, by Rose's side, and like I promised you before I left, I will stay by her side. She is my light in the darkness, my redemption, and she is my heart. I love her so much I can't put it into proper words, I asked her to marry me, to be my wife, and she said yes. I wish you were here, oh God how I wish you were here, to see her in her dress, to laugh with her again. To hold your grandchildren, because I will find a way."

I squeezed Rose's hand again. "I just want to thank you Mom, for giving me this wonderful woman. I'll make you proud."

I stood, head bowed. In this form, I couldn't cry. I could not breathe. But i could ache, and I could feel love.

"You ready to go see your dad baby?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose.

I squeezed her hand. I knew Rose was crying now. I didn't have to look, I could feel it in her touch.

...and she was. The curtain that had been her eyelids, keeping back the tide, this curtain had risen while she'd had her head bowed and when Kyle had squeezed her hand it was sufficient impetus to squeeze the tears out of hiding.

She had a lot of tears. She had a whole spectrum of tears, it seemed, and when one type of tear was expended, there were whole reservoirs more of the others...

...she listened to him talk to her mother, and she cried softly from an untapped bastion of tearfulness.

When she needed to be, Rose could be very very strong.

But right now, she didn't think she needed to be. She just felt she needed to be herself, and Rose herself had more feelings than she often knew what to do with. So now she felt. And she softly cried, and she listened.

I squeezed Rose's hand again. "I just want to thank you Mom, for giving me this wonderful woman. I'll make you proud."

...it almost destroyed her that he called Ceri "Mom." Considering what had happened to his mother, both their mothers...

I stood, head bowed. In this form, I couldn't cry. I could not breathe. But i could ache, and I could feel love.

"You ready to go see your dad baby?"

Rose wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and she nodded simply.

Simply nodded. "I'll talk to you later, Mum. And, uh, I'll tell him you said 'hulloh.'"

She turned as if to go, and Kyle's powers caused the night to close in around them and they were gone, the light of her hand gone away with them.

...and a moment later, after the haunted house moaning of Kyle's departure had faded, had stopped echoing from the tombstones, there came another sound, soft almost beyond the reach of human hearing.

The sound of wings.

A single black feather fell from above, and wafted down to rest upon the gravesite.

It rocked there back and forth for a moment, caught in a crossbreeze, and then it spun whirling away.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

I deposited us outside the compound and changed back to my normal human form. I immediately pulled Rose into a tight embrace, holding her close, feeling her heartbeat next to mine.

"My brave girl. Lets go see your dad, then we find out where Bekka is and after that, we let everyone else know."

I took Rose's hand in mine and walked up to the gate. Before we go there a guard had stepped out, walking up to us.

"I'm sorry sir but this is private property. If you have a appointment I'll need to see your ID please, otherwise you will have to leave."

OK, I'm impressed. Firm but polite. Hard to find that right balance. Also fairly new because he hadn't recognized me. I pulled out my wallet and handed him my license.

"I believe that once you run my credentials you will find no appointment is necessary."

He looked down, went white, then looked up at me.

"Sorry sir, I didn't recognize you. I'll phone in and let Dr. Hamilton know your on site."

"No, this is a surprise. Just give us some badges and let us in. I forgot ours back in New York."

He nodded and went back into the guardhouse. A few minutes later he was back outside with two badges.

"Here you go sir, you and Miss McCrimmon are all set."

"Thank you."

I took the badges and we made our way inside Jamie's house of impossibilities made real.

(I sure hope they got all the barf off the ceilings.)

 

[ChasNicollette]

Bruce.

Chagrined, Bruce rubbed his jaw, and chuckled softly.

He'd told the board of directors when he'd sat in with their meeting that he'd very politely complimented a delectable creature on her outfit, and that her significant other had taken significant umbrage. Hence the bruise on his jaw.

Chloe, in recent brief conversations over the last few months, had referred to this as Pete's "inner Bruce Lee." And Pete's "inner Bruce Lee" had a surprisingly long reach. Pete had only managed to tag Bruce once during yesterday's sparring session, but he had made it count. Ted Grant would have been proud.

And "Battlin' Jack" Murdock would have been proud of how Bruce had returned fire.

But Bruce stood now outside of the boardroom as the directors all filed out behind him, and Bruce rubbed his jaw and considered himself grateful that he did not click when he talked.

Sasha came walking up, and her high-heels clicked on the tiled patches of the hallway floor. "Mr. Wayne?"

Hands in his pockets, he turned to grin at her, any trace of ruefulness at the intersections of fists with his jaw suddenly having fled his features. "Sasha! What's on your mind, pretty face like yours all crinkled with worry? It's not like you've got a boyfriend who's set to sock me one."

He paused, and made a show of considering what he'd just said. "You don't, do you?"

Sasha was, indeed, rather concerned, but she arched a pair of eyebrows at her boss, as if trying to figure out whether he was being a space case. It was so hard to tell with him... so hard to make sense of him.

"Got a strange call," she shook her head. "More than the usual whackjobs prognosticating doom and sturm and drang, this one... this one felt different. He said his name was John Jones?"

Bruce's eyebrow twitched nary a hair, though his eyes seemed for the barest merest instant cast into shadow. "He didn't, ah, ask about tapestries, did he? (Funny story.)"

"No," Sasha replied, her brow furrowing still further, her soft feminine voice full of consternation, "no, not tapestries. Newspapers. He asked if you'd read the papers. And he told me to tell you that there are newspapers on Mars."

Bruce shook his head, his frown effortlessly mirroring hers. "Huh. But that's just silly. For there to be paper on Mars, Mars would have to have trees. Probably just some kook who got mixed up reading his horoscope, Sash', I wouldn't fret about it."

The last of the directors had departed the boardroom and behind Bruce Wayne loomed Lucius Fox, tall and ancient and brilliant beyond measure. "Mister Wayne," he intoned, "there's not a problem, is there?"

Bruce shook his head at Sasha, and was still shaking his head as he brought it 'round to look at Lucius, still shaking his head and still smiling a daydream of a smile. "No problem at all, Lucius, thank you. Unless you're considering diversifying our publishing interests into extraterrestrial periodicals, I don't really think that's a wise investment. I mean, readership might be higher than you'd think, but shipping and handling alone..."

Lucius arched an eyebrow, his wry humour wasting no time. "Of course, Mister Wayne. I'll issue a recall on all printed copies of Interplanetary Geographic. It's too late, of course, to stop the shipment of Earth Illustrated's swimsuit issue, we'll lose a mint on that one."

Bruce clucked his tongue, softly, shook his head, and turned and walked away. "That's a shame. Losing a mint on a swimsuit issue, all those poor dear models will regret giving me their phone numbers..."

"I don't understand him at all," Sasha Bourdeaux remarked to Lucius Fox, after she thought Bruce was out of earshot. "Is he a nutcase? Or is he actually really really deep, like one of those Zen Masters?"

"I wouldn't rush to judgment either way," Lucius chuckled softly, his deep dark eyes a-twinkling. "But as for the depth of him? Well, I've stepped in shallower puddles, that's for sure."

********​

The sun was setting, and night approached.

And Bruce's office near the very very top of Wayne Tower was warmly and welcomingly lit.

He poured himself a glass of water, the ice clinking in the tumbler, and he loosened his tie.

He wondered what the contact meant, the cryptic little message. He thought he understood.

Standing at the bar and facing away from the windows, he reached out and picked up a remote that looked a little bit like an old garage door opener, takked the single key thereupon. And great wide windowed doors opened onto a balcony, letting in the sounds and winds and scents of Gotham nearing nightfall.

He had to go soon. The mask was waiting. The Car was waiting. The mission was waiting.

But he lingered there for a moment, and set down the glass of water, and reached to curl his fingers 'round the handle to a cupboard. And he stood there. For a moment. Motionless.

Thinking.

Waiting.

Newspapers on Mars.

 

[AmenRa]

The Martian Manhunter

He glided effortlessly high above the streets of Gotham City, a barely visible red streak that maneuvered between the skyscrapers that made up the skyline of a city that never slept.

J'onn vanished from visible sight as he neared Wayne Tower. He slowed his flight, nearly stopping in mid-air, until he saw what he was looking for.

There, near the top of the tallest building, wide windows cast a faint light into the night. Curtains were drawn open, the panes of glass both transparent and reflective.

Still invisible, the Martian Manhunter moved near the windows, and he saw Bruce standing near the penthouse's bar, his back to the view. He was standing with a posture that suggested he was thinking of something, contemplating. J'onn risked a quick psychic probe, just to see what errant thoughts he might pick up from him.

Newspapers on Mars.

J'onn smiled. Bruce Wayne was one of the most brilliant human minds he had ever encountered, and he knew that the billionaire would read between the lines of his message. He knew the man would understand that J'onn was making contact after a very long silence.

J'onn knew that Bruce knew that it was time.

He could make himself intangible and pass right through the glass seperating them, but he would never intrude without being invited.

And something told J'onn that Bruce probably already knew he was there, watching him. Watching like he had done before, from afar, watching Bruce as he became something else and took hold of the night and claimed it as his own.

J'onn reverted back to the visible spectrum, hovering there just outside the window, his arms folded across his chest, and the cape of his Manhunter uniform floating in the updraft.

Good evening, Mister Wayne.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Bruce.

Good evening, Mister Wayne.

Bruce heard the voice like red sands in his head, clear as day.

And he smiled a smile that was a ghost of a smile.

Without turning around, he opened the cupboard on whose handle his hand rested, swinging the door wide and producing quite a large pack of double-stuffed Oreos.

And he turned with his glass of water and this pack of Oreos, and he walked out to the balcony through the opened glass doors. The wind was brisk, up here, but he didn't overmuch mind.

He smiled his ghostly smile up at this green spectre from his past, and set the glass and the Oreos down on a small glass table, set with chairs for entertaining guests who also didn't overmuch mind the brisk winds.

Bruce tugged a PDA out of his pocket, a device of his and Lucius' cooperative design, pressed a sequence of keys on the PDA...

"There," he mused, confident that J'onn could hear him, "that should reroute any pesky government or Luthorcorp satellites hurtling by overhead. We can talk in relative privacy."

He pocketed the PDA, and gestured to the pack of Oreos. "Help yourself, sir, make yourself quite at home. Or perhaps I can offer you a glass of cool milk?"

Bruce did not seem the slightest bit surprised to see J'onn. He'd calculated that this was a possible eventuality, after all, of that little enigma of a phone message. Bruce had something of a knack for enigmas.

He picked up his glass again, and toasted J'onn with it. "I have an eighteen-minute window before I need to, shall we say, 'get to work.' But I would hardly be worth my salt as a businessman or as a human being if I couldn't make time for an old friend and fellow Knower of Things. A fellow detective."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Gabe, and Chloe.

"Ditto." Merick grins and squeezes Gabe tight. "Listen, I need to go have a word with Tommy. He will be so happy to here this. Then when I get back we can call Rose and Kyle?" Anyway. Be back in a few. You two talk."

With a swoosh and a pop, Merick is gone.

Gabe stood there for a moment beside the wreckage of the latest coffee table, and he gave his daughter a funny look.

"Do you ever get used to that?" he wondered, not unreasonably.

Chloe's eyes were half-lidded and her lip was quirked in a smirk. "Conversational whiplash? I had a little bit of practise with men who made quick exits before I met Merick, and I'm still not quite used to it. Jet lag's also pretty serious when you can skip from time zone to time zone like a stone..."

She shook her head. "...some things, Dad, you never get used-to. But I guess that's how it should be."

Gabe retrieved the coffee pot and took a swig for it, blowing air through his teeth as he thought this over. "I guess that's true. I mean, if you get used to the amazing, what's left?"

"'There's always a bigger fish,'" Chloe quoted with a quantum of wisdom, then slapped the arm of the couch and pushed herself up to her feet. "Come on, if my computer still works I need to e-mail the office and tell them my mobile's out of commission."

Gabe chuckled softly, and gestured for her to lead on. "Always on duty?"

"Another thing never gotten used-to," Chloe chuckled, and led the way through to her home office. "(You know, we have coffee mugs. Maybe sugar, and milk in glass bottles, but mostly, if you need a coffee mug...)"

"Fine like this," Gabe shrugged. "One thing you learn working with Jim Hamilton is to take caffeine in any form you can get it. And if life with you didn't prepare me for that..."

"Harharh," Chloe chuckled softly as she sat behind her laptop-- which, mercifully, seemed in one piece. (Solid-state drive, chock-full of terabytes, Gen-Tech knew their stuff.) "You'll have to let me smell your coffee breath when you're done, live a little vicariously. Pete's been giving us OB/GYN advice over the phone, and now I'm on strict coffee restriction. Of course, naturally, that doesn't stop Mer' smoking in the flat, but at least he uses his--"

...she trailed off.

Her hazel eyes blinked sharply.

Gabe sank into a desk-chair beside her and frowned. "Chloe Anne? Something the matter?"

Chloe shook her head and squinted closer at the screen.

"Had an e-mail while I was afk, Daily Planet Metropolis listserver. (Is this. Is this happening right now?)"

She bit her lip. "Oh, my God. Dad. I need to. I need to."

She tugged her headphones out of the jack and instead put in a Bluetooth earpiece that was both microphone and headphone. Syncing it with her computer via USB, she dialed up her editor's desk with an overweb calling programme...

...and even as the phone rang, she was e-mailing Metropolis International Airport, she was pinging an old friend of hers in the MetroPD helicopter division, she was begging her MetU pal Jimmy, begging him to tell her he'd gotten a good snap of this...

She'd already composed the headline in her brain. 'SUPER. GIRL.'

She'd take time later to wrap her brain around this-- Kara. --right now her fingers were blurring over the keys and crafting a Pulitzer-worthy welcome-back for the single most important graduate ever of Smallville High.

Gabe sat and her watched her quietly for a moment, watched her immediately immerse herself, and he smiled softly, smiled proudly.

He picked himself up and decided, cheerfully enough, to seek out a coffee mug after all. Gabe had always had a knack for knowing where he needed to be. And right now he thought he should be in the kitchen, waiting for Merick to get back.

(He wondered briefly about the mess. But maybe that was one reason why Merick had gone to talk to Tommy? Maybe Tommy could clean up the mess.)

He treated himself to dairy in his coffee for a change, and listened to Chloe's fingers on the keys as he sipped and waited.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Jamie.

Everything changes.

Jamie's hair was silver, now, but it hadn't thinned. He was still skinny to the point of being scrawny, and his skin was still terrible, but his teeth were still good.

His dark eyes still held secrets even from the man in the mirror, and there were a few more wrinkles around those eyes from another decade gone by full of Puckish grins.

But the more things change...

"Nonononono!" Jamie gestured frantically, sprinting his Chuck Taylor shoes from one console to another, cranking dials and takking keys and whizzing and lurching about. "Localise it! Localise it!"

The white lab coat he wore was singed around the edges, and there were Post-It notes stuck all over his back, the same two numbers repeated over and over again.

"Hydroponics'll never forgive me if their water tanks go topsy-turvy again," he shook his head bitterly to himself. "Of course, we let that thing grow any bigger, it's likely to climb out and walk around on its own... (reminds me, should buy bleach, bleach would kill the chlorophyll if it tries anything). Dunno why we're keeping it, Alec told us its brain was gone, should always listen to Alec."

Blue white light crackled over above him, and he flinched and cranked another dial as he stared with pleading eyes at the tiny little golden brick at the centre of the coruscating haze. "Please stay put, please stay put, I can't well call you 'gravity control' if I can't ruddy control you, can I?"

...he slid over to another console, the lab forming a ring around the suspension field in the centre, glancing up here and glancing up there and hitting switches...

...the field grew denser, harder faster bluer whiter, spiked and crackled and rattled and hummed...

"Wait, please," Jamie shook his head, "just stop a minute, really, I know I carried the one this time, I haven't overestimated your specific electromagnetism again, what is it this time...?"

The power surged, the field expanded by a yard, the suspension containment threatening again to burst, and Jamie churned his teeth together and struggled to think: "Old and thick old and thick, stupidstupidstupid what am I missing...?"

...some of the deckplates at the edge of the field were starting to turn up at the edges, curl towards the ceiling...

"Oh, blast," Jamie winced, "Fridays are Business Casual and Vertigo Days, please wear polo shirts and keep vomit receptacles handy..."

He blinked. "Oh. Hang on. Twit."

And dove for the next-over console with a yell of triumph, tagging a touchpad on his way to the floor...

...the field surged one last time, and then subsided.

And Jamie climbed up from the floor, looking rather exhausted and relieved, shaking his head. "Always. Always always always. 'Reverse the polarity of the neutron flow.' Bloody elementary, that is."

He straightened his glasses.

The little golden brick hovered there in a blue-white field. And the field didn't fluctuate. And the brick didn't fly away.

Jamie grinned, and tapped the stabilisation lock before tugging off his glasses and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Molto bene."

He turned and walked away from the console arrays, and instead touched the green button on an intercom with one hand while he cracked open a can of Java Monster with the other. "Oi, Gabriel, could we talk about the budgeted power for gravity control? I think I've ironed out the kinks."

Jamie paused, and nothing happened. Replacing his glasses, he glanced at the clock, half-glanced at his pocket with the watch hidden in it, frowned. "Not his sleep-shift. Not his ghost-shift. What's he on about, where's he gone?"

He tapped the key again. "Gabriel?"

He took a swig from the coffee drink and shook his head. "S'not like him."

One hand in his pocket, one hand carrying the coffee, he walked out into the hallway, the man in his blue suit and white coat and Buddy Holly spectacles, the doors made a nice little howdyoudo hiss as he stepped through.

"Hm." He shook his head. "What day is it? Did I miss half the weekend again?"

The deckplates rang with footfalls, and Gus and Manny sprinted 'round the corner wearing big black packs with particle projection cannons hooked to them. Gus was wearing goggles and Manny was wearing a grin and neither of them slowed down as they hauled past Jamie.

Jamie arched an eyebrow. "How's things, lads?"

"Welding a rift in Sector G," Manny called back, "got it sorted boss, business as usual."

"If we need you," Gus appended, "we'll give a call."

Jamie nodded, and sipped his coffee. "Business as usual."

He frowned, though, and called after them: "Either of you seen Sullivan?"

...but they were good runners, the gym here was good, they were already out of earshot.

"Pfah," Jamie gestured dismissively, "blow it, he'll turn up."

He took another slug from his coffee and walked in the opposite direction.

Walked for quite a time, lost in thought.

Until he rounded a bend and came face to face with his daughter Rose and his sort-of-boss Kyle.

He blinked at them. He patted the pocket with the watch in it.

"Oh. 'Ello. (D'you know what day it is?)"

Rose grinned at him. "It's a good day in the morning."

Jamie processed this for a moment. "Oh. Okay. Good morning, then."

 

[AmenRa]

The Martian Manhunter

J'onn stepped onto the balcony, his cape folding around him. He then changed, morphed, became a face more human.

In this form, he was John Jones, dark hair, dark eyes, his skin darker than caucasian, but not quite African, not Latino....almost Native American, because it had a reddish tint, but it wasn't overly ruddy. This form was the form he would be if he were human, or if his DNA were stripped of the pre-evolved Martian genes that made him one of the most powerful beings on Earth.

Or Mars, for that matter.

In this form, John wore a black leather jacket, a dark gray mock turtleneck, and blue jeans. As John walked over to the chair and sat, his jacket opened, and Bruce could catch a glimpse of the sidearm he carried next to the golden colored badge that read "Metropolis Police - Investigator" around it's center seal.

He took a cookie and bit into it.

"It's good to see you, Bruce," he said between mouthfuls. "It's been a long time, old friend. A long time."

J'onn looked up into the sky for a moment, as if he were tracing the patterns the stars made as they crossed the night.

"I'm sure you've read the papers, or you have seen the news," he continued. "Kara has revealed herself to the world. In a matter of days, the entire planet will know of the existence of powerful beings fighting for what is right, the pursuit of justice, on Earth. Some will be fearful, some will be thankful.

"Some will figure that where there is one, there are others. They will look into the sky, into the darkness, and they will wonder if there are other lights out there to show them the way.

"And that is why I sought you out, Bruce.

"You, I, our friends from long ago....we are the others.

"I've watched you at night, Bruce," the Manhunter told him. "I've seen what you become, when you go out at night and face them. Your name, that name you chose as your standard, your symbol, is whispered in the streets. Criminals are becoming afraid. They are looking around the corners, up into the night, into the darkness and worrying if some dark and jagged slice of that night is coming for them, to take them down to atone for what they have done.

John's voice was dark and deep, almost a shadow of the voice that sometimes spoke in Bruce Wayne's mind.

And then, he smiled. "Just imagine what we could all do together," he offerred. "You, me, Kara, Rose, Kyle, Merrick, everyone. Just imagine what it would be like, when you were once the Outsiders, but now, here we are, stronger, wiser. An unstoppable league fighting for justice in a world that so badly needs heroes."

John took another cookie.

 

[ChasNicollette]

McCrimmons.

The paled guard gave them badges, let them through.

And they walked.

They walked in quiet. Their visits to this place were few and far between, and the reasons for this were not entirely unreasonable.

Rose had a little bit of reason, nowadays, to feel uncomfortable around her father.

********​

That little bit of a reason was in the gym, at present.

Her right fist was gloved in fingerless white cloth, and her left, similarly attired, hung limply by her side. She dangled from her right, as its fingers were curled 'round a horizontal metal pole, hauling herself up and lowering herself down by the strength of this one arm, over and over and over...

http://i328.photobucket.com/albums/l325/chasnicollette/bionic270907_468x360.jpg​

There was a Zen in repetition. In sweeping the same patch of sidewalk over and over. In straightening the pebbles of a garden. In calligraphing. And Claire McCrimmon found her Zen, found her repetition, in physical exercise.

Meditation held no peace for her, not any longer. It was only in exhausting herself that she found the calm required for nothingness of mind, and only in nothingness of mind was found utter readiness.

Claire's mind was filled with scary things, and she wanted to be better than that. So she spent as little time in her own head as possible.

The gym was stark in design but brilliantly equipped.

There were treadmills on which Jamie could run for hours, lost in thought.

There were weight benches for Gus and Manny.

And on and on and on.

But right now, Claire hauled herself against gravity, ravaging herself physically and exhausting herself mentally...

Claire had aged far slower than had Jamie or many of the others, she retained much of her beauty from ten years previously. She had been given a sample of something, a signing bonus from her old "employer," and while for a long time it had shattered any sense of decency she'd once had, it had made her body to last.

This would not last forever. And when it expired, it would catch up to her with a vengeance. Without a second dose, she'd become a far older woman in heartbeats. But for now...

For now she hauled herself aloft with strength and grit and determination and tried to go to her place where her own thoughts would not plague her.

...behind her, on the bench with her towel and things, her PDA bleated intrudingly.

She dangled there for a moment, and closed her eyes.

Never a moment's peace.

But I suppose that's to be expected.

Whosoever said penance would be easy, he was something of a liar and in apparent need of penance himself.

Her fingers opened and she dropped to the floor with a crouch.

Flexing those fingers, she walked to the bench and picked up the PDA, scrolling through the notifications... security had just allowed in two particular VIPs, and as per rote she was notified. After all, she was Hamilton's minder, after all. It wouldn't do to be unaware of things.

Kyle. 'Wraith.'

Tough customer.

If possible, pre-emptively incapacitate with sunstone, or remove powers entirely via placement upon consecrated terrain. High-velocity Lubrilon-coated bullets recommended if facing while armoured.

Aim for the eyes.

Do not engage on plane of origin.

She hesitated, and scrunched her eyes shut, and balled up a fist and thudded it into the centre of her own forehead.

It was like instinct, like inevitability. She'd never been brainwashed, never been programmed, Ducard had thought too highly of her for that nonsense. But he'd shown her a false truth that she'd embraced wholeheartedly, and she'd trained herself to think this way.

Everyone she looked at, she silently prepared for the eventuality that she might have to kill them. Every single one.

She glanced back down at the PDA, at the stillframe from CCTV of Kyle and Rose walking in through the front door...

Rose. 'Valkyrie M.'

Primary weaknesses psychological, though results unpredictable re: psych warfare.

Best approach would be to utilise thermally-infused Black K and strike during ensuing momentary confusion.

Headshots only; might recover from attacks on cardiac or pulmonary systems, cerebrum best bet for immediate defeat.

Consider use of scattergun to maximise area of damage in fewer shots. Also, harder to dodge.

Claire placed her palm on her stomach and her face crumpled in inward disgust. She felt bile rising, forced it back down.

It's always good to be prepared.

Always always. Just in case one of them goes wrong.

Evil twins are a very real possibility, or mind control, or what-have-you. Always good to be prepared.

But goddammit why do I have to prepare first and love second?

...apparently, when you learn to dance with The Devil? It's like unto riding a bike.

She texted the gate guard to let her know if Jamie decided to leave the premises, and she threw her towel over her shoulder and made for the showers, hoping to scrub the sweat and the self-revulsion off of herself.

********​

Rose had blinked away the last of her tears, and was smiling softly at Kyle when, out of nowhere, her father rounded a corner and stood staring at them like he'd never seen either of them before.

She grinned at him.

No matter his choice of company these days, he was still her father. And he was still brilliant and thoughtless and big-hearted and absent-minded, the coin flipped over and over and over...

He blinked at them. He patted the pocket with the watch in it.

"Oh. 'Ello. (D'you know what day it is?)"

Rose grinned at him. "It's a good day in the morning."

Jamie processed this for a moment. "Oh. Okay. Good morning, then."

He paused, processed further. "Rosy. Pierre-Simon Laplace. I should. Erm. You two want coffee, or maybe tea? I got turned-around again, but I'm pretty sure there's a coffee station near here..."

Rose waved to him with the hand that wore the ring. "Dad, we have something of a status report--"

Jamie nodded at Kyle. "Right, of course, progress. AI work is going swimmingly, as well you know--"

Rose hesitated, glanced at Kyle, bewildered. "Dad."

Jamie was ticking items off on his fingers: "--hydroponics, they're making great strides in botanical oxygen refreshing, and of course this can double as food production, need to fine-tune the gene-splice--"

Rose's eyes flicked back to Jamie again. "Dad."

"--power sources," Jamie mused, "I need to call a friend of mine named Sharon, she might have some advice--"

Exasperated, Rose clawed her hands through her hair. "Dad."

"--made some significant leaps and bounds," Jamie continued, unabated, oblivious, "so to speak, with the use of the synthetic Nth-metal alloy, exposing it to certain energies produces radiant electrogravitic results, though the difficulty of course is making the area of effect stable and controllable, as opposed to Nth-metal's usual 'bind-on-pickup' tendencies--"

Gently, laughing, shaking her head, Rose cupped her father's face in both hands. "Dad. We don't need a status report from you. We need to give one, um, to you."

Jamie hesitated, brought up short. "What? What's happened?"

Rose waved that hand again, the hand with the gleaming gemstone, the promise forged into a ring. Jamie reached up and took that hand in both of his...

"I don't. What's the. What? What?"

...clearly, he was dumbfounded.

Rose glanced over her shoulder at Kyle, grinning anew.

"Maybe you should explain it to the man," she suggested. "Traditionally, you are supposed to ask for permission..."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Kyle

Rose's dad was something of a mystery. The man was beyond brilliant. Just his failures advanced science by decades, and since Bekka had started fronting him resources, he had made some amazing leaps in science.

(The almost creating a black hole thing was an accident, and Odin had shut things down in time. That was before he left.)

But the normal world, that sometimes totally confused the poor man. So as I watched Rose try and try to show her dad that we were engaged, and he kept missing it, it just got more and more funny until I couldn't help myself.

I started laughing. I was pretty much into full on hilarity when Rose rounded on me, eyebrow arched just like her mom, as if saying "something funny spooky-boy?"

I regained composure, and with a grin turned to the man that was going to be my Father-in-law.

"Jamie, you do have a good suit right? Maybe a tux? Haven't decided on tails or no tails, but we have time to discuss that."

I got another bewildered look from Jamie, and decided to let him off the hook. I walked over and enfolded him in a hug.

"I finally did it dad, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Your little girl is going to get married."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Bruce.

Bruce examined John's form. A perfectly mimicked human, transcending ethnicity, exuding lawfulness. Bruce considered a snark regarding the illegality of impersonating police officers, but he knew full well that John was more than qualified to enforce laws in pretty much any city on Earth, not just Metropolis.

John could have taken every academy course telepathically...

Bruce envied that. To train in a course of instants rather than a course of months and years? So much less time wasted on preparation and so much more time to devote to the mission.

He sipped the water, and he listened.

"It's good to see you, Bruce," he said between mouthfuls. "It's been a long time, old friend. A long time."

It was good to see John, too. Familiar sensory inputs and smiling faces were few and far between. There was Alfred, of course, and Lucius, and even this Jim Gordon so soon to be Gotham's Commissioner of Police, and occasionally Pete from the next city along. But he'd been gone a long time and familiarity was hard to come by.

Outwardly, though, he merely nodded. "Long time."

...as if this summarised everything.

J'onn looked up into the sky for a moment, as if he were tracing the patterns the stars made as they crossed the night.

Bruce wondered if J'onn's Martian people had a legend about an ancient evil chained up within the confines of Ursa Major, just as Earth did. Bruce wondered if J'onn could see this from here, with his miraculous eyes. But he did not say this aloud.

If J'onn read it in his thoughts, so be it.

"I'm sure you've read the papers, or you have seen the news," he continued. "Kara has revealed herself to the world. In a matter of days, the entire planet will know of the existence of powerful beings fighting for what is right, the pursuit of justice, on Earth. Some will be fearful, some will be thankful.

"Some will figure that where there is one, there are others. They will look into the sky, into the darkness, and they will wonder if there are other lights out there to show them the way.

Bruce took his own turn looking out at the sky.

He wondered if Jim would turn The Signal on soon; Jim usually waited until after eight.

"I read about this," he murmured. "I read about Kara on the Innsmouth Square scrawl. She looks as lovely as ever, if not more so. I read the papers, scanned the talking heads, read USA Today's in-depth report in between The Nihon Keizai Shimbun and The Wall Street Journal. She's certainly captured the imagination of the human race."

"Scientific American," Bruce mused, "interviewed this man Richards, bright fellow. He said: 'One post-human appears, and the probability of another one showing up is increased by a factor of ten to the power of five. Two, ten, or fifty post-humans appear and the probability of others just naturally occuring becomes a certified inevitability in mathematical terms.'"

Bruce shook his head. "So you're right. You're right. They're going to know she's not the only one, they're going to know. Greystone and McCrimmon have been working in New York, Tennylson's been up to his usual nonsense in London, but so far these events have been ascribed to urban legend, to exaggeration. Even The Manhattan Guardian, triumphantly recording the gallivanting of superheroes, has been reduced in reputation to the status of the onetime parody tabloid The Weekly World News. But this. Changes everything."

He smiled faintly. "...I would have preferred the continued anonymity of tall tales, really. I know Damian does, gangbusting in Metropolis. But the cat, so to speak, is out of the bag."

"And that is why I sought you out, Bruce.

"You, I, our friends from long ago....we are the others.

Bruce shook his head, smiling faintly, agreeing. "'Outsiders.' Hh. (Was I ever so young?)"

"I've watched you at night, Bruce," the Manhunter told him. "I've seen what you become, when you go out at night and face them. Your name, that name you chose as your standard, your symbol, is whispered in the streets. Criminals are becoming afraid. They are looking around the corners, up into the night, into the darkness and worrying if some dark and jagged slice of that night is coming for them, to take them down to atone for what they have done.

Disappointment flashed through Bruce's mind, briefly, like a pop of incandescence in a dark night, that he had been followed and had not realised it. Annoyance.

Of course, this time it had been a trusted friend, but it could easily have not been.

Need to be more careful.

But he took... gratification... from the idea that John seemed to approve of what Bruce had been doing. Bruce wasn't doing this for people to approve of, of course not, he could care less if they didn't approve, but it was nice to know that someone, someone of J'onn's calibre, that someone did approve.

John's voice was dark and deep, almost a shadow of the voice that sometimes spoke in Bruce Wayne's mind.

It was strange. To hear such thoughts verbalised in such a manner. To hear The Voice in his head in his ears instead.

It was almost like talking to Wraith, or The Black Hood.

Bruce sipped his water, and his eyes never left J'onn's unsmiling gaze.

And then, he smiled. "Just imagine what we could all do together," he offerred. "You, me, Kara, Rose, Kyle, Merrick, everyone. Just imagine what it would be like, when you were once the Outsiders, but now, here we are, stronger, wiser. An unstoppable league fighting for justice in a world that so badly needs heroes."

John took another cookie.

Bruce crunched an ice cube in his teeth. And thought. Hard.

His eyes were like stone.

"When I first walked the halls of Smallville High," he remembered, "that first day, I reflected that the colours didn't really suit me. The reds and the blues and the yellows. And then I amended my thought, pondered a minimal use of yellow. In developing my symbol, the crest on my chest, I thought perhaps that bit of yellow could surround my bat emblem, call attention to the shape of it. But there's a reason that yellow didn't make it into the final uniform design.

"I remember," he mused, "writing in my diaries on the day I finalised that design: 'I don't have superspeed or invulnerability. I can't risk wearing a bright costume that makes me a target and I can't afford to trust poorly-trained people who do.'"

He smiled faintly. "Obviously, you're not 'poorly-trained.' And I imagine the whole point of Kara's vanishment, not unlike my own, was to come back honed into a living breathing weapon for good. But do the others share that sense of dedication, determination? What you're suggesting would require an elite response force, a group in whom the world could place unwavering trust. If we're going to put a team together, if you want me to be a part of it, then they need to be the best of the best. If we can't find enough people to populate this... 'League of Justice,' antithetical to The League of Shadows, that are at the proper level of effectiveness, then methodologies for training them will have to be implemented."

"You, and Kara I believe in," Bruce continued, "and Wraith's had the most hands on experience of any of us, possibly even more than your own if you count his century or so of warfare in Shadow. And Damian is reckless and vicious but capable of brilliant feats. One of the newspaper articles I read suggested a costumed, raven-haired woman of vast speed and strength defending a hijacked boat off of the Eastern seaboard... I wonder if this is Diana."

He thought this over, nodded quietly. "Diana I would trust. Amazon training..."

Bruce harrumphed. "I'm not a spiritual man, nor given to undue superstition, you know this about me. But there's a tradition among teams such as these... Samurai, and Soldiers of Victory... We need a foundation of seven. Do you really think the Valkyrie, with her inconsistent psychological profile, or Tennylson, with the uniform of a killer, are these appropriate? If you vouch for them, I'll believe you. We need a foundation of seven. Once we have that, we should build from there."

 

[camerindrake]

Damian

The Black Hood rides back to the clock-tower and upon getting off the Pod cycle the front tire folds into the back and he places it on its wall hanger. The wall hanger raises and slides into its indention while carrying the pod cycle. He then removes his uniform placing each piece where it belongs. In his under cloths he raises the elevator up to the top floor to get his shower before his date with Sandra to the Metropolis Conservatory.

Several years back he bought the site of the Metropolis Conservatory. He then invested in restoring it and making it a historical landmark. Even the likes of regressed aged serial killers wouldn't keep the reputation that the Conservatory deserved from being known.

Upon the cutting of the ribbon tonight for the reopening ceremony the Trans-Siberian Orchestra is to play. Damian smiles remembering telling Sandra that tonight would be a night she wouldn't forget.

Sin turns her head as the clock Painting split at the twelve and slide open exposing the elevator. She raises an eyebrow seeing the smile on Damian's face. She comments, “So your either one of two things, a. excited for tonight with Sandra or b. stoned out of your mind. Considering the only drug you ever did was Lazarus and that makes you a paranoid schizophrenic for 24 hours I am going with a.”

Damian looks at her and shakes his head, “You forgot about your bit of news you gave me on the way here so there could be an option c.”

Sin responds, “Yeah but normally Girl Scout and you argue on how justice should be served. So you couldn't be this happy to see her.”

He shrugs. “But it has been a long time since we last seen each other, Sin.” He then looks at the monitor and asks, “Did you send Bruce an invitation?”

Sin answers “And Mr. Fox. RSVP received from Mr. Fox but you knew what to expect from your dad.”

Damian nods, “Yeah he has to work. Where do you think I get it from.”

 

[Lunaramblings]

Merick swooshed into an alley nearby his favorite smoke shop. He pulled the remnant of his mask off and pulls his coat over himself. He reaches into the impossibly deep pockets of his coat, fishing through random assortments of items, until he found th crumpled and rumpled pack from his cigarettes. He pulls it out and grins. As he reaches the door of the shop he stops and looks at the twisted packaging.

"You know, Mer' you should get rid of these things. Just cause John is slowly killing himself, doesn't mean you have to. Come on Mer' just toss the trash and go home. Be a man." Merick looks at the shop longingly. "One more pack. Thats it." Merick moves into the shop and waves to the man behind the counter.

"Oi, Sammy, how you been?" Merick grins at the middle eastern man, younger than he is, that runs his father's shop.

"Mr. T! Good to see you. How are you? You know, I was thinking... you have been coming in here since I was too young to sell you these death sticks... but never once have we talked about you." Sammy, who has only ever been Sammy to one person, to every other person in the world he was Husam al Din Jabr, reaches for a pack of Merick's usual.

"Huh... suppose that might just be true..." Merick grins "Well, for starters, I just found out I am gonna be a father of twins... Twins! I can't believe it."

"Twins and you are going to smoke these fuckin things? That's it! Get out. Out of my shop. I refuse to sell you another bit of death."

"Ah, Sammy, come on. Last pack. I swear."

"One last time. And... well here... let me give you this... So a dad huh? Wow. You know, my girl Shari, she just had our second. A boy. Named him Edmund, out of the Chronicles of Narnia? My parents hated me reading those, said they made Islam the devil, but hey, I converted to Judaism." Sammy pulls a small wooden box out from under the counter and hands it to Merick with his smokes and waves his hand as Merick tries to pay him. Sammy nods as a group of teenagers come staggering through the door.

"Edmund? Really? That's a good name. A strong name. My granddad was named Edmund." Merick grins and slaps Sammy on the arm.

As the two men exchange their small talk the teens suddenly spring towards the front, guns in there hands.

"You! Give us the cash ya soddin' camel jockey!" The leader screams as he jams a gun into the back of Merick's head.

"Listen, calm down... I will give you the money, just let my friend walk out of here."

"Give me the money! You stupid fuck!"

"Listen. You don't want to do this." Merick takes a deep breath. he can feel the eyes of the strung out teens on his back. He tries to think back. There were five when they walked in. He glances around. He can see the two by the coolers, both have what appear to be old sawed off shotguns. There is one by the door with a very large revolver, and the one jabbing him in the head with what feels like a 9mm. "You really don't know who you are fuckin with son. So just put the guns down. And go. No cops. No trouble. Just go." Merick instinctively wards himself and Sammy in invisible shields of force. Not his strongest, but strong enough to stop a bullet.

Merick smiles at Sammy as he feels the recoil. Just an instant before the bullet flies. Time slows. Merick doesn't. Before the bullet has left the gun, Merick has turned and put his mask on. Replaced his gloves, and as the bullet just exits the gun he takes it between his fingers and grins. Time ceases it's current state. It returns to normal. And the thugs get a nasty surprise."Boo!"

Merick smashes the thug by the door hard with a beam of force. Bouncing him off a wall, trashing a display of Cabury Fruit and Nut bars. Merick then spins and pelts the two shotgun toting thugs with cans of Fanta thrown so hard they shatter the idiots jaws as they hit. Finally Merick turns back to the leader. Pissing his pants and slack jawed the thug tries to squeeze off another round. But Merick, quicker than any man should be, forms a sword of shimmering force, and chops through the gun neatly. Grinning Merick stops.

"I asked ya nicely. But you blew it. Time to pay the piper kid." Merick drops his aura as he drives his fist as hard as he can into the thugs nose. Shattering it.

As the leader falls, Merick feels a sharp tinge in his right arm. Then a clap like thunder beside him.

Shit! Five! I KNEW there were FIVE!! Merick thinks as he falls to the ground from the force. He sees the gunman. A kid no more than 18. He sees as he falls to the ground. A bullet firmly planted in his shoulder.

Merick rips off the mask as he sits up. The suit had absorbed the majority of the impact. But the bullet had hit hard. Armor piercing. Cop killers. All the rage. Merick grins as he stands. "This, Sammy is my line of work. Super hero. heh."

"You... your that guy! The one they wrote about in The Sun!"

"No one believes what they write in The Sun, Sammy. Call the cops. Tell 'em what you have to. I have to go. Your okay though?"

"Heh. Yeah man, cause of you. Hold on." Sammy hits a button on the ancient VCR beside the cash register. Ejecting a tape. "Huh, must have forgot to put a tape in this morning when I opened. Of all the luck. Get out of here. And, Mr. T? Get a better suit. You look like one of the bad guys in that thing. I almost shot you instead."

Merick grins as he swooshes out of the shop and into the kitchen of his own flat. Wooden box and smokes in hand. He opens the box as he arrives, looking down he laughs. Cuban cigars.

"God I love Sammy. Honey! I'm home! Tommy and Mary are on there way! Coming for dinner remember? Oh, shit! Dad, Gabe, Umm... You ever thought of a career as a ninja?"

 

[Wyldfire]

Diana.

She had set down back behind the old barn. The place was in as bad of shape as she'd imagiined it would be. She didn't know why but she chose to change into jeans and a white tee shirt, brown cowboy boots, belt, and leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up just past the elbows. As she walked around to the front of the barn she remembered where the box was. She reached to the boards that kept the barn doors shut and yanked them free, letting the doors swing open. She found the box and pulled the lever returning power to the property. Mother had made sure this place was minimally kept up until Diana was done with her training.

Mister Trevor had died six years ago, and to Diana's surprise, she'd been named the sole beneficiary of his will. When Diana's mother proposed selling it Diana had refused and countered with the offer of turning this into a place for the young of Themyscira to come to to acclimatize to man's world for the Mating hunt. Mother had surprisingly agreed, but had held it off so that Diana would be the one to move it along. Diana smiled as fond memories of learning the art of farming from Mister Trevor came to her mind. He had been a very kindly man. The term for what he was was Gentleman. It fit her uncle to a tee.

She dug in her pocket and pulled out the key ring and found the right key. Unlocking the front door she hit the switch and lights came on in the old abandoned farmhouse. She went through the entire house turning on lights so she could assess what repairs the old place would need.

Once the house was lit up she went to her bag and pulled out the bottle she had so painstakingly kept safe. She uncorked it and sniffed it. One of the best meads Themyscira could make. She held the bottle up in a toast and said "Rest in peace Uncle Max. You were very good to an arrogant little witch. You deserved better than how I used to treat you." She took a deep swallow of the mead and continued "You will be remembered and honored by many young women soon."

She sat down at the table and continued to sip at the bottle of mead. She'd get her bed put together in a bit, but for now it was a time to remember good times past. "I'll have to check and see if my old bike still runs. I hope it does."

 

[AmenRa]

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean...

It was morning aboard the Errant Venture. Thomas O'Neil had already been in the gym for a workout, and had made his three and a half miles on the treadmill. He had showered, and he now sat dressed in a faded Led Zeppelin tee shirt, khaki shorts that had holes in the cargo pockets, and a Chicago White Sox ball cap.

He was located in the ship's office. One whole wall of the large room was a rear-projection LDC panel display that his computer had split into several screens. The computer was currently downloading the morning headlines via satellite from all across the globe.

Jenna walked in, dressed as Jenna usually dressed: all business. Her navy blazer and skirt outfit was complete with seamed stockings and polished Prada pumps. She sat a CD-ROM on the desk beside O'Neil.

"The reports from the nano-technology trials. They're ready for human studies," she told her boss.

"Great," O'Neil replied, his attention focused on the display as news headlines came on-line. "We still need to replicate the polymer injectors," he said.

"Summit?" she asked.

"No," he answered, "they've got their hands full with the NASA contract R and D thingie." He thought for a moment. "Outsource it," he concluded.

"LuthorCorp?"

O'Neil shook his head. "Wayne Tech," he answered.

"Okay," she acknowledged, "I will get a spec file to Mr. Wayne in an email."

O'Neil shook his head again. "From what I've read about Bruce Wayne, the only thing he knows is exotic cars and exotic women. Lucious Fox is the brains behind that corporation. Still, I suppose Wayne would warrant a meeting if he chose." O'Neil smiled. "I just don't want you in any close proximity to him."

"Is that jealousy I hear," she teased.

"Not at all. I'm just protecting my assets."

"Oh," she said, "so I'm an asset?"

"My greatest."

As she leaned in for a kiss, a newspaper headline appeared on the display that caught O'Neil's attention.

CAPED WONDER STUNS CITY!

O'Neil enlarged the photo. He was intently staring at it, and smiling.

"Maybe she's the one that fought off the pirates?" Jenna offerred.

"I don't think so....I got a different impression from reading that than I do this." He shone a laser pointer at the photo, drawing a circle around the symbol on Supergirl's chest. "And that, that I've seen before, but I can't remember where....long time ago...maybe in a file...not sure. It's alien," he told Jenna. "Of that, I'm sure. No known Earth language uses that symbol. Not Kemetic, not Aztec, not Chachopayan, not any that I know. And I know a few."

"Maybe it's just an S," Jenna observed. "They're calling her Supergirl."

O'Neil was still all smiles when Jenna finally got her kiss on his cheek, then turned to go to her own spacious office. He sat there for a long time, looking at the various reports of Supergirl. The whole time he kept thinking how he had been right all along, that they were out there, waiting perhaps, for the right time to make their presence known.

Supergirl.

Indeed.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Sammy was smiling as he was loaded into the back of a police car. Seems that even though he was the one being robbed, the police too exception to the manner in which the thugs in his store had been dispatched. Sammy just kept smiling as he rode to the police station. As he was printed and thrown into a cell. Sammy just kept smiling.

All his life, Sammy had read stories about super heroes. He had always loved reading about heroes. Be it King Arthur and his knights, or stories about men wearing tights and capes. Sammy had always dreamed of being a super hero. And now... now he knew a real live hero. It had been some time ago that stories had begun circulating the tabloids about a masked man. A man that could dodge bullets, and disappear. A man that was everywhere and nowhere. Sammy laughed thinking about it now. At every one of these scenes the man writing the reports, Michael Moran, had found the same silk cut cigarette butts. Strangely, however there was no DNA. For years now the odd article would appear. A crook would claim he was assaulted by this urban legend and sightings would always skyrocket. Then it would blow over.

But this was a special say. Sammy could feel it. He had seen him. And suddenly it all made sense. Sammy grinned as he sat in his cell. He would gladly take this secret to his grave.

 

[AmenRa]

Martian Manhunter

"A team of seven then," J'onn agreed. Bruce's logic was flawless.

The Martian Manhunter stood.

"I will go and meet with them one by one," he told Wayne. "And I will be certain of them, of their dedication, of their purpose, before I speak to you about pursuing this any further."

He took one last cookie and ate it.

"Until we meet again," he said, "fight the good fight, Bruce. And remember, all of these we spoke of have something to contribute, not just to us, but to our world.

"The bat symbol can stand for many things. It is an ancient symbol, and a powerful one. But remember, it is not who you are, Bruce, but what you do that defines you."

He changed then, into the familiar uniformed Martian Manhunter and rose into the night sky, slowly at first, and then faster, becoming a red streak that soared across the Gotham City skyline.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Gabe.

Merick grins as he swooshes out of the shop and into the kitchen of his own flat. Wooden box and smokes in hand. He opens the box as he arrives, looking down he laughs. Cuban cigars.

"God I love Sammy. Honey! I'm home! Tommy and Mary are on there way! Coming for dinner remember? Oh, shit! Dad, Gabe, Umm... You ever thought of a career as a ninja?"

"Thought about it," Gabe confessed, chuckling into his coffee. "Had a poke around Craigslist once, but none of the dojos or Ryūs in good commuting distance had any openings in management."

He paused, then, and listened, waiting to see if Chloe responded to the reminder about visitors and dinner.

She didn't respond.

"I'm afraid she's working, son," he shook his head. "Big doings back on the homefront, apparently? She'll be under 'till dinnertime at least."

...and then his eyes went cool and serious in a hurry.

"Which gives us a minute to talk, doesn't it?" he sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "Does your flat get attacked... often? You are going to move now, right? Obviously this location's been, what's the word, compromised? I won't have you risking my daughter's life with the threat of... 'supervillains.' Not to mention the lives of my unborn grandchildren."

He paused again, and pursed his lips and blew air through his teeth. "Which brings to mind another question. Has your pre-natal care included genetic testing at all? Given the... dispositions of yours and Chloe's DNA, that sort of examination should be pretty much top of the list. Granted, there's also confidentiality to consider, you're both superpeople. Jim's the obvious choice to test you both, but frankly, as much as I respect that man I'd be more than a little hesitant to let him muck about with the helixes of my grandprogeny, so you may want to explore other options regarding genetics. I just want to. To make sure there's been adequate preparations. It's a whole new world my grandkids are gonna be born into, I want to make sure they're as ready for this world as they can be."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose and Jamie.

Rose had been grinning. Grinning was one thing.

But Kyle was practically guffawing.

...and it was okay for Rose to grin at her dad's iconoclastic idiosyncrasies but it was slightly less okay for Kyle to openly bray at them. (Not even when Jamie's attempts to duplicate an artificial quantum singularity drive almost resulted in Smallville getting wiped from existence, was laughing at her dad okay.)

But Kyle, as always always Kyle did, stepped up to the plate and brought the thing home, a Mighty Casey who never struck out.

I regained composure, and with a grin turned to the man that was going to be my Father-in-law.

"Jamie, you do have a good suit right? Maybe a tux? Haven't decided on tails or no tails, but we have time to discuss that."

Jamie spaced out for a moment, stared to nowhere. "Got a good suit. Two or three. Wear 'em every day. Granted, there's not one of them what couldn't use a good dry-clean..."

His brain seemed to hiccup though, and he came right back. "Tux. Yes! Got a tux. Funny story, Ceri and I had to get into this party, and I thought, 'waitstaff,' had the thing ever since. (Pretty sure it's clean, though I'm not entirely positive the thing isn't bad luck.) No tails. Nooo, no tails, worse than a cape, they are, getting caught in revolving doors and lift doors and and and Intrinsic Field Subtractor doors..."

Jamie trailed off, though, and fixed Kyle with a look of confusion that bordered on desperation. "Why, what's the occasion? Should I dust off me kilt?"

I got another bewildered look from Jamie, and decided to let him off the hook. I walked over and enfolded him in a hug.

"I finally did it dad, I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. Your little girl is going to get married."

Jamie blinked.

And looked again at the ring-hand that Rose proudly displayed for him.

"Oh."

...and slow, slow, like the dawn of The Sun around the edge of the world, a smile started to spread across Jamie's face, that smile undimmed by a long long night. The smile took on a life of his own, and he wrapped his arms around Kyle's back and rattattatted him jovially with both fists.

He pushed away from the man and grinned at him, grinned big and beaming, first at Kyle and then his daughter and he repeated this, once twice thrice, back and forth.

"I'm supposed to say something," he said, grin never fading, "but corblimey if I don't have any idea what it is. It's not 'encore,' or 'author,' or--"

His hands flew into the air. "Congratulations!"

And he wrapped up his daughter in a hug that might have crushed a lesser creature's thoracic spine. "Congratulations, Rosy. Oh, I'm so happy for you both."

Rose's grin was all the more brighter now, beaming back at her dad, and she, too, embraced him wholeheartedly...

"Yeah," Rose grinned. "We're pretty happy for us, too."

 

[Wyldfire]

Introducing Donna Troy.

Pale hands caressed white marble. "The architecture is one of the very few things here I'll miss once I escape this place," the girl thought to herself, "Well, I might miss one or two of the girls too."

She continued on from her classes back to her own rooms, an irregularity in this place of light and joy. Donna refused to wear the "uniform" as she thought of it, instead she continued to wear her old beat up engineer boots, black pants, and today, a black fitted Tee shirt with white studs forming a skull and crossbones over her right breast. Her belt had suspenders hanging off of it as well as chains and a pair of handcuffs. Nothing like the Greek beauties all about her.

She hated this place. Hated it with a passion. Worse yet her father had ditched her after the car wreck. Why else wouldn't he have gotten her out of here by now? But that had been three long years ago. And she hated Hippolyta more than anything else on this stupid island. Even with the Internet at her disposal Donna couldn't find anything about her dad.

Even with the crazy powers she had inherited from her mother she couldn't escape. Miss freaking Perfection always caught her before she could make land fall. Oh don't even get her started on her half sister Diana! If there was anyone she could possibly hate more than her mother it was her sister. So pretty, so everything Donna wasn't. Donna told herself that she didn't envy her sister, with those too big of breasts, the almost caricature hips and legs. No, there was no jealousy there, nope. And that witch Diana was in a relationship with was just as bad!

Donna's usual train of thought came to an end as she reached her rooms. As she entered she noticed an envelope on her desk. It had mother's spidery writing. she picked it up and as she opened it said "Let's see what the newest edict oh my Queen has decreed for me." She read the note, then read it again.

My daughter Donna,

I am sorry that you have not come to find peace here in Themyscira. It grieves me to see you so very unhappy, so to remedy that I have come to the decision that you would find more favorable to have the chance to live elsewhere.

In one week Marriana and two farmers will be departing for Smallville Kansas in America. You are being given the chance to be one of the first three young Amazons to take part in an acclimatization program prior to Mating Hunts.

I give you your freedom to go if you wish, but I hope in the heart of a Mother that you would stay with me. But I cannot force you my daughter. I will await your reply over dinner.

Your Mother,
Hippolyta.

An expression crossed Donna's face. An expression that hadn't graced her face many times these three long years. An almost feral grin crossed her face. A grin that wouldn't even be daunted when she found out who's idea it had really been for Donna to be offered this chance.

 

[AmenRa]

Martian Manhunter

J'onn J'onzz left the skies over Gotham City and flew straight on until morning. He circumnaviated the globe, just enjoying the feeling of flight, and contemplating on upcoming meetings with others powerful.

The sun was rising as he flew over the Eastern coastline of the United States. J'onn turned North, following the coast until he was over Ellis Island and New York Harbor.

While maneuvering over Manhatten Island, J'onn's Martian vision caught sight of an early-morning construction crew beginning their work at the top of a newly built skyscraper. He watched as a crane situated atop the steel girders moved its boom, loaded with more steel girders, out over the distant street. J'onn saw as the load shifted on the boom line, the crane became unstable, and the anchoring pins that secured the machine to the structure sheared from the inertia caused by the sudden accelerated swing.

The crane, its operator strapped into the control cab, began to fall.

The Martian Manhunter put on a burst of speed, the air around him condensing into vapor as he passed through the Mach barrier. The crane was falling swiftly and loudly towards the street below. People moving about on the sidewalks below looked up and saw the 20 ton machine toppling down onto them.

J'onn flew under the crane, his arms stretched above his head, and he caught it deftly. He held it above him as he lowered himself, watching people and cars frantically trying to get out of his way and make room for the crane. Onlookers stood, pointing, their mouths agape at the sight of the Martian Manhunter as he displayed strength beyond reason.

J'onn let the crane land rather harshly on the street. He was hurried, because he knew that even though the crane was safely down, the boom line and its attached load was still coming sharply from above.

The Martian Manhunter flew up again, switfly coming to the topside of the crane, and he looked up at the load of steel girders missiling their way to Earth. His eyes glowed red and from them was loosed a barrage of pure energy. The red beams struck the falling girders and cable and instantly vaporized them.

J'onn turned and flew back to the crane, coming to the operator's cab door. The man inside looked at J'onn, his face a wash of shock and awe.

"It is okay," J'onn told him. "You are safe now."

Onlookers snapped photos with their camera phones.

The Martian Manhunter turned from the crane to see a crowd of people gathered around him, all clapping their hands. More people were coming into the crowd, from street corners and from stopped cars.

J'onn gave them a nod, and he then became a streak of red as he sped off into the morning sky.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Kyle

We spent about two hours with Jamie and eventually Claire in his little shop of wonders. Rose hadn't seen her dad in about a month, and I wanted some time to go by before we left.

Eventually we made our way back out the door and into the morning, hearts lighter for spending time with the people we loved.

I enfolded Rose in my arms and kissed her once we were back into the trees away from the guard shack.

"Ready for our next stop sweetheart?"


She nodded her head and laid her cheek against my chest. Shadows engulfed us, and I stood in the shadows of the oaks, encased in my armor. Wings sprouted out of my back and I wrapped her in them, hugging her tight to me.

"Next stop is a surprise."

Shadow took us, and we emerged in a very familiar place.

Rose called it her "Fortress of Solitude" after the arctic crystal palace. Both were a part of Kara, but this place held fond memories of night spent gazing at the stars, laughing at jokes and enjoying the warmth that friendship brings.

It had been years since Rose had been here.

"Lets go see your girl. Everyone is awake by now."

Shadows swirled around me and I was once again a man. I took Rose's hand and we walked to the front door. Rose looked at me and I squeezed her hand in mine, then knocked.