Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Below the earth of an abandoned and barren embassy, a gathering began in a cave.

It began small—two misfits and oddballs by any standard of the day, but once before they had been known as Justice League International!

Standing by the towering monitors within the cave base was Batman, the Dark Knight. His arms crossed as he looked broodingly at the glowing screens. He was contemplating the files laid out across the multi-screen display, each with names and faces attached to them.

At Batman’s side was one of his closest and, indeed, one of his oldest friends. Towering even above the costumed Batman, his own suit reflective of the monitors’ blue glow, was Booster Gold, the Greatest Hero You’ve Never Heard Of!

Once a disgraced football player from the twenty-sixth century, Michael Carter made the courageous… or perhaps foolish, decision to return to the twenty-first century to become a superhero and gain his fame and fortune!

Years have gone by, and the man who was once decried as only being in it for himself became what no one might have expected… a hero. A leader. A friend.

These two old allies have been brought back together, years after the disbanding of the team they were once on. It was not for football night or to catch up on old times. 

No. 

An old foe, Maxwell Lord, returned from the dead, bringing with him all of their secrets. To combat him, the unlikely friends decided to do what many would say was impossible -- or, more likely, just inadvisable. 

They are going to reform…

THE JUSTICE LEAGUE INTERNATIONAL.  

Booster squinted some, his feet heavier on the ground than usual. He leaned in, as if the giant computer screen in front of him wasn’t flashing the logo at him already.

Somewhat uncharacteristically, Batman sat crookedly in his chair, shoulders turned enough to stare at Booster expectantly. He was waiting for a reaction.

“No fucking shit,” Booster finally got out of his system.

“Language, Michael,” Batman warned. He then waited again, but Booster had no intention of speaking out of turn. There were turns.

Sometimes Booster felt like he was still in grade school around Bats.

“It’s a solid plan. Our history with the League and the League’s unique relationship with Max Lord makes us not only the most likely to understand the gravity of this situation, but also places us and those closest to us in the position of being prime targets for whatever plans Max has next,” Batman said clearly. Then, for emphasis, adds, “It’s a good plan. If we execute it correctly.

Booster couldn’t look away from the logo of his charter team, the League that literally made him the man, the hero he was. It felt different, seeing it in its flashy colors and group tested font years later.

Maxwell Lord’s physical powers might have been that of psychic control and persuasion, but Booster felt his real superpowers were in tainting every memory that used to make Booster happy.

“You want the people who were most affected by Max, who were most influenced by Max to make his first run at controlling superheroes, to come back together, willingly, and put everything they love on the line for it,” Booster said for clarification. He ripped his gaze from the screen to stare at Batman directly.When he was still barely in his twenties, he would have been far too intimidated to do so. “And they’ll do this after watching me and the others fall flat on our asses trying this for months. For what?”

Batman scowled. But that was not exactly a new expression. He always scowled. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Batman said decisively.

His frown tugging down in the corners, Booster folded his arms and glanced around the compound again. It was barren and cold, already looking abandoned after less than seventy-two hours since their failed mission with Max.

“That’s not enough for people,” Booster urged. “You can’t expect someone to keep getting up when they’ve never even smelled victory before.”

“You’ve done well,” Batman said evenly.

It was Booster’s turn to scowl as he snapped his head back in Batman’s direction. “Hardy har.”

“I’m being serious,” Batman said almost soothingly. “When did you become such a pessimist?”

Booster stared daggers at the cowl. Unbelievable.

“So what can I tell people that’ll change their minds?” Booster asked, half curious and half mocking. “Max kicked my ass—again —and then posted a verbal victory lap on Viewtube that has been seen over four hundred million times already. You expect any of the rest of the League to not be some of those views?”

“Tell them the truth, Michael,” Batman said, a little more testily. He turned his chair to square himself with Booster directly. “Say it’s time for them to step up the way your team has since Brightest Day. How could anyone possibly say no to that?”

Booster dragged his hands down his face. It was going to be a rough recruitment drive.

“You know I only joined that team because Lord literally mind-controlled me into it, right?” Helena Bertinelli, better known as Huntress, looked at Booster Gold over the coffee he had brought her in a vain attempt to try to win her over.^[1]

“That’s why you should join us in fighting him!” Booster flashed his million-dollar-grin at her.

She shook her head. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’ve already got a team. I don’t exactly have time for another right now, especially one where I’d have to deal with him.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d like to see you try to strangle him again.”^[2]

She smiled, almost fondly. “Don’t let Batman hear you joking about that.”

Booster frowned. “Joking. Sure.”

“Have you considered retiring?” Buddy Baker, part-time stuntman and full-time family man asked. It was clearly a leading question. Probably one that would lead to a negative answer.

“Not really,” Booster said, brushing the crumbs off his jacket as easily as he did the question. “Guess you’re not interested in leaving California even for the weekends.”

“You always say it’s for the weekends, but I miss all my kids’ soccer games all the same,” Buddy countered. “And I’m not trying to corner you, Booster, I’m saying, it might be easier for you to let things go if you’ve got other stuff to worry about. Like what’s outside of the suit.”

“Outside of the suit there’s still a lot of people that can get hurt by whatever Max’s next move is,” Booster said firmly. “Including kids at soccer games. I thought you, of all people, knew that.”

The words were out quicker than Booster’s sense could catch up and before he knew it, Buddy was glaring at him in a rather unfriendly fashion. There was a pain like a wounded animal behind Buddy’s gaze.

“Friendly advice,” Buddy said. “Don’t attempt to lecture me about the price of this job. Not anymore.”^[3]

“Oookay?” Booster asked, wondering if he should have checked the news. He paused but Buddy made no moves to fill the silence. So Booster got up to let himself out. “Right.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t get it,” Wally West, the Fastest Man Alive, Probably, He and Barry Allen Haven’t Exactly Settled That Yet, said. “It’s just—with the twins and Barry being back and everything—things are busy.”^[4]

“And the League,” Booster said

“And the League,” Wally agreed. “You know, it’s not a slight, Booster. I’m only on the reserve list, anyways.” 

“Isn’t it? You hear how the rest of them talked about us. Everyone always writing us off. Saying we were a joke. We had a Martian Manhunter, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Power Girl, Captain Marvel, and Black Canary on our team. We went toe-to-toe with Doomsday, and half of our team nearly died in the process. We were the only team that took into consideration that half of us had bills to pay because not everyone was a billionaire, and gave us a stipend.

“A stipend that came from Max,” Wally pointed out.

“And the U.N.! We were helping heal the world from Cold War tensions, dealing with international incidents, and nuclear war!” Booster’s voice was getting louder, and he knew it. “But everyone chooses to forget that part, don’t they? They’d rather think about the time that-that Ted and I pretended to get our bodies scrambled by the teleporter, rather than admit we built something.”

“I loved being on the JLI, Booster,” Wally said. “But… I’m not the kid I was when I was on that team.” He shrugged. “I moved on. And maybe if I didn’t have as much going on... but I’m kind of a stay-at-home dad right now. To twins. With superspeed.” 

“Got it,” Booster said, fighting to keep the scowl off his face. “I’ll see you around.”

He punched the wall, then he punched the lockers, then he punched the chair. 

“Are you through?” Batman said from the other side of the chair.

Booster nearly leaped out of his skin. “You’re still here?” 

“I am,” Batman said, turning the chair around. “I’ve been working.”

“Okay, well while you were working, I”ve learned that I can’t stand anyone I thought I knew,” Booster snapped back.

“That’s not true,” Batman responded. “You still like Guy Gardner. Which means your tolerance for sane, reasonable people must be higher than most.”

“Well,” Booster said, pointing at the list on the computer, “Maybe we should put Guy higher up than everyone else on this list. Because they all suck.”

“Can I call you ‘Ray’ in public?” Booster asked after using Ray for the fifteenth time since they rounded the school’s field. He got distracted, briefly, by the college players as they practiced on the tackle dummies.

“It’s my name, Booster,” Ray “The Ray” Terrill offered back, picking up some footballs to place in the bin. One escaped with some effort. “Can you grab that?”

“It’s also your other name. You might want to think that through,” Booster offered, bending over and grabbing the football in one hand. It fit like an old glove. He was quick to put it back where it belonged.

“Yeah, it’s like I was seventeen when I decided to join an internationally sanctioned team of superheroes or something,” Ray said pointedly. “Which, I was only for about three minutes. Really. I’ve been on almost every team for about three minutes.” He looked seriously at Booster. “It’s not my fight, Booster.” He paused. “Ever think of going by a name other than Booster?”

Booster frowned. “Nope.”

“I’m flattered, Booster, but the Birds of Prey are keeping me busy,” Dinah said.^[5]

“Is it true you’re in a band now? I heard you’re in a band.”

Dinah Lance, the Black Canary, who had been on the JLI even before Booster was, shook her head and smiled.

“Barbara and I are working on expanding operations. We’re recruiting. Miss Martian, Vixen, and that Rocket girl from Dakota. Not to mention all of our reserve contacts to keep in touch with like Question, Zatanna, Ice and Fire. Plus, Helena and myself, of course.” She took a sip from her drink.

“Reserves?” Booster repeated, tense. Bea and Tora hadn’t said anything to him about joining the Birds of Prey

“Well, Beatriz says the two of them need to keep themselves mostly free for… well, you. And the League.”

Part of Booster relaxed when she said that.

“Besides. After everything that’s happened lately... I really have too much on my plate.” 

Oh right, her ex was in jail, pending trial for murder. ^[6]

“I guess,” he said, grudgingly. 

“Look, I—I know we haven’t seen each other much since everything went down. But I just want to say… I’m sorry about Ted.”

Booster nodded briefly, his body immediately tense. “Yeah.”

He left pretty quickly after that.

“Batman didn’t tell you I was already on the Outsiders?^[7] I feel like Batman should’ve told you. So I guess that means he wouldn’t. Good ol’ nocturnal sociopath,” Rex said as good naturedly as someone who, well, looked like Rex Mason could say.

“What does Batman have to do with any of it?” Booster asked, poking around the expensive looking ornaments in the Stagg Estate. “This is about bringing the League back together.”

“Please,” Rex said sympathetically. “This has Batman written all over it.”

“It doesn’t have to, it could be my idea,” Booster said. He hardened his face before looking at Rex again. “Could you think of anyone more ready to go after Max than me?”

Rex frowned. “That’s Batman, alright,” he sighed. “I’m already on the Outsiders, Booster. If you guys really need Metamorpho for something, just tell Batman to call me over.”

Booster wasn’t even sure which part annoyed him when he walked out. He decided to go with all of it.

“I left the team at the beginning,”^[8] Doctor Kimiyo Hoshi said, not even looking up from her microscope. There was a lot of commotion that she was not paying attention to. Maybe it was just like that in S.T.A.R. Labs. So Booster ignored it, too.

“I know,” Booster admitted, hand to his chin as he awkwardly stood in costume behind her.

“I left when you and him joined,” Kimiyo reminded him. “That never settled right with me. And I am always right.”

Calling it a sting didn’t even begin to address it. “We could use your judgment along with your skills,” he offered instead. “It can only be a positive to have someone around who could see through max from the beginning.”

Turning around, Kimiyo was stone-faced. “I have survived being a hero this long by seeing bad ideas and avoiding them,” she said solemnly. “This will be a bad idea. And I encourage you to rethink it.”

Booster didn’t, but he did rethink who should be on the old JLI Christmas Card list.

Booster kicked the door on his way in and immediately leaped back on one foot because it turned out that of course Batman lined everything with lead.

“Goddammit!” Booster hissed, like his day hadn’t been long enough.

Batman didn’t have the decency to turn around. “Language.”

“Sorry,” Booster said. He stomped his stubbed foot down, still throbbing. “Actually, I’m not. Since when were you such a stickler for language? Mister I’m the Goddamn Batman—”

“I’m reinforcing good habits in you,” Batman said. “Like not giving up. Get back out there.”

“Those were fun times,” Kent Nelson, the seemingly eternal agent of the Lords of Order, said fondly. He looked to his wife and partner in sorcery, Inza, beside him. “They were an adventurous bunch. I’m certain you remember.”

“Certainly,” Inza said, leaning forward and pouring fresh tea into Booster’s cup. “Of course, they were also chaotic times. The Gray Man. Manga Khan.”

The Tower of Fate was upside down that day and trying to drink tea on the ceiling, Booster decided, was nausea inducing. He tried politely, but the moment his lips touched the cup, the tea obeyed gravity and began pouring out through the tower below them. Booster grimaced.

“The important thing,” He said, putting the teacup back on the table, “is that the League still stands for things. And the people who were a part of it still stand for things. Which means it’s their responsibility—our responsibility—to set things right.”

Kent and Inza seemed contemplative, considering. Booster raised his eyebrows curiously and leaned forward in his chair. 

Looking at Inza, Kent’s demeanor changed. “They were chaotic times, Inza, I believe you were right. Why, Nabu took human form himself. That business with the unfortunate mind control happened.”

Booster squirmed uncomfortably. He did as much as he could to not think about Queen Bee and her machinations. 

What it did to Ted.

“Not all chaotic, my love,” Inza countered, her own demeanor shifted to a more peaceful and pleasant one. “Why, the joys of taking the helm on myself are quite fond for me.”

Rubbing at his temples, Booster looked at the couple. “I’m afraid I’ve got a commitment. Is there any way I could come back soon and get an answer from you? After you’ve thought about it, of course.”

The two stared at each other meaningfully, clasped hands, and then looked back to Booster.

“The answer is no, Booster Gold. We are sorry,” Kent offered. “The new Doctor Fate^[9] requires training and support. We cannot so easily leave our great-nephew at this critical time in his power’s development.”

“You should come by anyway,” Inza added. “This is a place of healing. And you have many trials ahead of you.”

“Sure,” Booster grunted, heading back on unsteady ground from where he came. “One of them is trying to find someone for the team,” he muttered under his breath.

“Is this really your first time in Fawcett?” Mary Marvel asked, back in her brilliant red costume and its yellow bolt shining.

It had been a long time since she looked like herself again. Booster was happy for her, even if there was still something off.

“Well, it’s always been kept so clean and pristine without anybody outside of your bunch having to step in,” Booster argued. “A League could use that kind of energy.”

Mary tested her skirt’s length. “Booster Gold, I don’t think Fawcett is clean and safe because of me. I’m still so new at this. Fawcett has just been blessed with the Marvel family.”

Booster frowned, his brow crinkling in confusion. “You’ve always been good. You were a great addition to the League.

It was Mary’s turn to look confused. “The League? Like the Justice League? Me?”^[10]

Scratching at his head, Booster looked at her more than a little bewildered. Uncertain of what to say to that, Booster rubbed at his nose then glanced off. Fawcett City really was a beautiful place. A wholesome place. A very strange place.

“Where’s the Captain?” he asked.

“Rock of Eternity,” Mary answered. “He’s concerned about the Sins… concerned about Adam… concerned about the rest of us in the family.”

“Lots to be concerned about these days, kid,” Booster agreed. He held open his arms invitingly. “How about you guys let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?”

He let out a huff as she collided into him, with super speed, hugging him tight enough to bruise. Mary’s face wasn’t visible, instead buried into Booster’s chest.

“You’re the only adult that makes sense sometimes, you know that?” she asked.

Well, Booster supposed there was a first for everything.

“I must admit, after what’s happened the last time I was near Maxwell Lord, I can’t imagine it would end well for anyone if I were to be near him again,” Superman said, hovering just enough above to be eclipsing the sunlight.^[11]

There was one part of Booster which wanted to say fair enough , but that part has always been easily drowned out by other parts. Especially around Superman. “What? Don’t think you’ll be able to hold him off this time?”

It’s worth it for the grimace that cracks Superman’s stoicism. “Listen, I even came here as a favor—”

“Superman,” Lois Lane said pointedly from Booster’s side. She was holding her jacket close to her as the wind whipped at them. 

Booster was so used to heights he’d barely noticed how harsh the winds were at the top of the Daily Planet. He thought maybe Superman should offer his cape if he was so great of a guy—then he refocused. He was there for a reason.

“We need people,” Booster tried again. 

“I can’t be one of them,” Superman reiterated, slightly more genuine.

“Then why see me at all?” Booster asked in frustration. He looked back to Lois, since she offered the setup to begin with, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Lois said, so softly Booster wondered if he was supposed to be hearing it at all. “I am, too. It’s just… don’t you remember how he felt about them? How much he liked them?”

“Feels, ” Superman corrected, equally as low. “ Likes. And I do. But that’s not worth the risk. It’ll be more than just the two of us probably by the time he gets back. We need to consider that.”

“Okay,” Lois said, unconvinced, heartbroken. Her hand was precariously placed over her abdomen.^[12]

Booster glanced a few more times between them before cartoonishly walking backwards and out of their direct path. He truly was invading on something and, despite his fair bit of Superman trivia by that point in time policing, he had no idea what.

Sitting down with a thud, Booster sent the computer chair spinning.

“You should do this,” Booster said. “Who says no to Batman?”

“You’d be surprised,” Batman answered.

Booster squinted at him. “Why are you in the corner hiding in the shadows?”

“You looked like you needed the chair,” Batman answered without answering anything at all.

“I understand your reasoning, Michael,” Wonder Woman said. “Max Lord truly is one of the greatest threats we have ever faced.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever really beaten him,” Booster said.^[13]

“Did I? Or did I simply cause Brother Eye to unleash all of its power in an attempt to avenge him?” Diana shrugged. “I do not regret what I did. But it was not as clean of a victory as we might like.”

“He’ll be coming after you. He already has.”

“Yes.” Diana looked thoughtful. “And I will always be available should you need help. But… there are some responsibilities that must take precedence. There is something wrong with Themyscira and an illness is gripping my people.^[14] My family has stretched itself thin, and I’ve neglected my role as their support in lieu of my work for the world. I owe my family this, as you owe your family your full attention at this time.” She smiled. “As you said once, I was not truly one of you. But I am honored for your inclusion and your invitation.”

She touched his arm. “I have faith in you.” 

That was why Wonder Woman was his favorite.

“Yes,” was the first thing that came out of Guy Gardner’s mouth when Booster walked into the bar.

“What?”

“You’re putting our League back together, and yes. I’m in. I want to punch that son of a bitch in the face over and over again until he’s shitting teeth.” Guy slammed his beer onto the bar harder than necessary. “I should have been there with you.”

“You didn’t remember,” Booster said. He sat down at the bar.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been there, ” Guy snapped. “I mean, you guys had Atom there, but Guy Gardner, your glorious leader, wasn’t? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Are you trying to get me to say I missed you, Guy?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Guy scowled at him. “You guys are hopeless without me.”

“Ah, so you missed us. I’ve got it.”

Guy stared down at his bottle.

“It’s our League. And you’re not going anywhere without me.” He pointed at Booster. “Especially since you’re dragging Jaime around with you. Do you have any idea how much his mom would kill me if you guys let anything happen to him? It would not be pretty. She’s one tough lady.”

“”He’s a good kid,” Booster said, accepting the bottle of beer the bartender handed him.

“He is,” Guy agreed. “Ted would be proud.”

They toasted to that.

“Booster. It is good to see you again.”

“Hey, J’onn,” Booster said, forcing himself to smile.

J’onn’s nose twitched. “Is that—”

Booster’s grin became a little more real that time. “Of course.”

He handed J’onn the package of double-stuffed Chocos,^[15] which the Martian took with a genuine smile of his own.

“I am… sorry about how I reacted, recently,” J’onn said carefully.

“It was some sort of psychic thing,” Booster shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No. It is not,” J’onn opened the package and ate a cookie, thoughtfully. “Maxwell Lord is truly one of the most dangerous men we have ever encountered. And we made him that way. With our trust.”

Booster looked away.

“We were aware of his flaws, his desire for control. But… none of us saw his betrayal coming. And few have paid as high a price for it as you have.”

“You died, J’onn,” Booster pointed out. “That’s a pretty high price.” And he’d been coordinating an interplanetary war when Ted had tried to reach out to him. As far as excuses go, Booster had to admit J’onn’s were pretty high up there.

It was still hard, of course, knowing that Ted had been desperately reaching out, begging people to believe him. About Brother Eye, about OMAC, about the trail of mysteries that had led right to Max’s doorstep.

But J’onn wasn’t near the top of the list of people who Booster blamed for that.

“I’m sure you’re too busy,” Booster said. “I mean, you’ve got the real Justice League and everything. But Batman and I are putting the League together. Our League, I mean. To take down Max.”

“I am not too busy, Booster,” J’onn said quietly. He offered Booster a cookie. “I will be happy to return to the JLI.”

“How in the world did you find me?” Nathaniel Adam said, his containment suit crusted with tarnish.

If he hadn’t been made of pure nuclear fallout wrapped in a man-shaped wrapper, a few weeks in the Neolithic era probably would have made him look even worse for wear.

“I have my specialties,” Booster said. He took a moment to turn just enough to wave off Rip and ignore the way his boss-mentor-whatever was looking at him cross-armed and annoyed. When the familiar zip of Rip transporting out sounded, Booster approached his teammate. “You know, you really need to take more consideration for the time stream when you do your little explodey-time move. It leaves a real wreck of things that takes weeks of clean up. All that chronal energy pulled around in all directions.”

Booster pulled himself up on the rock Nate was sitting on and sat close to him, catching the same view of ancient earth that Nate had been staring at for hours or days or weeks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nate said, though there was a lot more relief in his voice than when he normally talked to Booster. He looked at Booster meaningfully. “So we won?”

Cringing, Booster pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Goddammit,” Nate sighed under his breath. “You should’ve just left me here.”

“Your name is cleared and Max is on the run,” Booster said. “You are absolutely not staying here. Nuclear explosions in the present? Pretty bad. Nuclear explosions in prehistory? Yeesh.”

Nate stared down to his knees, solemn and unconvinced.

Booster frowned, running a hand through his hair, then bumped his shoulder against Nate’s. “Hey, we’re not done yet,” he said. “I mean, unless you’re done. We’re still going after Max, but no one will think twice, I mean, after all he put you through—”

“The hell I’ll let you guys do any of this without me,” Nate argued back. He paused, then looked at Booster seriously. “Who’re we, this time?”

Sniffing, Booster leaned back. “Great question. I’m working on it.”

Booster walked in and opened his mouth, but what came out was a string of noises and nothing resembling words.

“Go to sleep, Booster,” Batman said with a strange sort of affection in his tone. “We can handle this tomorrow.”

Confused but appreciative, Booster leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and slid down to the floor.

“No, I meant go home. Or to the couch. Not…” Batman sighed. 

A few minutes later, Booster stirred just enough to notice there was a blanket on him.

“And you watched it, nyet ? The video? His—his stupid American face!” Gavril Ivanovich rants, cranking the bolt on the neck of his Rocket Red suit. It still had a lot of damage to it from their fight with OMAC-Prime.

“It’s hard to have not seen it, Gavril,” Booster said, still uncomfortable after all of the years seeing anyone other than Dmitri in the suit. It made sense—Dmitri was never the only one in it—but the feelings were still there.

“Sorry, I forget,” Gavril muttered, cranking away again, “you’re one of the Americans.” He looked up. “At least we beat it. At least we took away his toys.”

Booster kept thinking about it, about the choice to have him distract Max while the others fought the machine. It worked until it didn’t.

A gnawing part of him wondered if it was ego more than practicality that had gotten him in his position. 

“What is it we do next?” Gavril asked, shaking Booster from his thoughts.

With a breath of relief, Booster leaned back on his heels. “I’m glad you asked.”

“ — but I just wanted you all to hear it from me… Maxwell Lord. That I will be watching them. For the good of all of us. ”

Booster stared at the computer screen, feeling a twitch in his eyelid even as Karen Starr, CEO of Starrware Labs and full-time Supergirl look-alike, turned her computer screen back around.

“Can you believe that?” she asked, angry enough for the vein in her forehead to pulse.

“Yeah,” Booster said, feeling like he didn’t have much left to say about the video.

“I’ve probably seen it thirty times,” she informed him. “Analyzed it, did a speech pattern analysis on it.”

“Wow,” Booster said, still at a loss.

Karen frowned, setting her strong jaw as she leaned back in her seat. She looked at Booster. “I want back at him. For us. For Ted.”

“Good,” Booster said, finally feeling his convictions again. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh great, have you figured out where headquarters are going to be?” Tora said before he could even close the door behind him. “We’re almost done packing, but I don’t want to put away the dishes until we know where we’re going.”

He glanced around. “When did you two move in together?”

“When I saw how she was living, ” Beatriz da Costa, superheroine, spy, and occasional model said, her hands on her hips. “It was filthy, Booster.”

Tora looked guilty, as if it was her fault for being basically catatonic with depression and trauma after coming back from the dead. “I kind of lost my lease while we were running around,” she added.

“Well, Bruce is springing for rent, so we’ll probably be fine this time,” Bea said firmly, dumping an armful of green jackets of various cuts, shades, and fabrics into an open box. “At least he better be, given half the things I’ve heard he’s bankrolling these days.”

“Are you spying on him?” Booster asked

“I’ll stop spying on him when he stops spying on the superhero community as a whole,” Bea announced wryly. “Anyways, grab that hard drive from the counter, will you? It’s got the files I’ve got on Max from Checkmate, plus everything else I’ve managed to put together from my other contacts. Should give us a place to start.”

“I apologize for every prank I’ve ever pulled on you, including the time Ted and I straightened your hair in your sleep,” Booster said earnestly.

She tossed her green curls over her shoulder, smug. 

Then he remembered. “Oh, and by the way…”

“What is it?” Tora said, kneeling over a box full of pulpy spy thrillers that Bea loved to read.

Booster rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Guy’s on the team.”

“Oh, excellent!” Tora said, lighting up.

Bea had a strange look on her face, then she turned back to Booster.

“I’m rooming with Tora.”

“What?” Tora said.

“I know how this goes. I. Am. Rooming. With. You.”

“Guy and I are adults, you can’t—”

Booster decided that discretion was the better part of valor and beat a hasty retreat, texting Tora the address so that they know where to come when the two of them finish rehashing their own sexual tension via Guy Gardner. 

“So you think this Max Lord will come after Jaime again?” Bianca Reyes said, handing Booster a cup of coffee.

“He seemed pretty interested in him,” Booster said, nodding. “I’ve gotten Batman and some other people to increase your home security, so hopefully we’ll at least have a warning if he makes a move on this side of things.”

“Thanks, Booster,” Jaime Reyes himself said, his smile tense. Booster couldn’t exactly blame the kid. The last time the team had gone up against Max, Jaime had ended up tortured and nearly died at the man’s hands.

“If you want, Jaime, we’ll keep you in the loop about things, but I mostly just came by to tell you that your family is as safe as we can make them.”

“Hey, what?” Jaime said, straightening up and frowning. “Keep me in the loop? What, I’m off the team?”

Booster blinked. “Well, I mean, I figured you’d be busy with the Teen Titans. And after the last time…”

“Last time is exactly why I want to kick this guy’s—butt,” Jaime said, eyeing his parents quickly. they were politely ignoring his near-slip. “And like, the Titans are huge.” That was definitely true, from what Booster had heard. “They can spare me while I help you guys out.”

“One moment,” Bianca said, dangerously. “Two teams? That seems like it will be cutting into your time on college applications.”

“Not to mention your grades,” Alberto Reyes said, also looking disapproving.

“I can manage it! Besides, it’s the Justice League!”

Booster held up his hand when Jaime looked at him pleadingly. “I’m going to defer to your actual parents on this one, Jaime.” At Jaime’s look of betrayal, he gave in a little. “That said, we’ve got geniuses on the team. A lot of people would be able to help with tutoring, and I’m sure  we can get Batman to ask Bruce Wayne to say that this is an internship with Batman Inc., if he ends up needing that extra boost for college applications.”

The Reyes looked at each other. “Who all is on this team?” Alberto asked.

“Well, you’ve already met Guy Gardner, Fire, and Ice,” Booster said, counting them off his fingers. Plus Batman, Martian Manhunter, Power Girl, Captain Atom, and Rocket Red.”

“And you,” Bianca said, giving Booster a look that says she was remembering that Booster kind of kidnapped her son and dragged him across the country to Gotham during the Crisis.

“And me,” Booster said, guiltily, because the literal entire world was at stake, in his defense. 

He probably should have left a note, though.

Bianca and Alberto looked at each other.

“Alright,” Bianca relented. “But only so long as you keep your grades up. If they drop, you’ll have to leave one of the teams.”

Jaime punched the air and cheered before he hugged his parents tightly. Then he ran upstairs to gather some things so he could have spare clothes at the compound.

“I’ll look after him,” Booster told them.

Bianca gave him a smile that was almost fond. “You and those others… you really care for him, don’t you?”

“He’s a good kid,” Booster said.

“He worried a lot, you know. About Ted Kord. What he’d think of him.”

Booster found himself smiling, genuinely, for the first time in a while. “Oh, that’s easy. Ted would be so, so proud. Just like the rest of us.”

And just like that, there was a Blue Beetle on the JLI again.

Booster stuck his hands in his pockets after he put the flowers down.

“Well. We’re going after him.” He paused, looking around the graveyard. It was pretty empty, except for a burly guy in a leather jacket whose black hair was marked with a dramatic skunk stripe, and that guy looked too busy smoking a cigarette and leaning against a tree to pay any attention to Booster. “It’s not going to be the same, without you guys.”

Booster sighed. “I wish—I just wish you guys were here, you know? It’s going to be crazy and dangerous and—and there’s this kid, Sue, you’d love him. He’s friends with Traci. And he’s so young, and he’s going to be involved in all of our shit and I’m… I’m scared for him. I’m scared for all of them, but him especially.” He rubbed his arms, feeling a strange chill in the wind.

“Miss you both. Can’t believe we never got to laugh about the Supernova thing, Ralph. You know, you’re the only one who figured it out? I don’t think even Bats knows that one, and that guy knows pretty much everything. Showing him up even now, huh?” Booster grinned without humor.

“I’ll try to come back sooner,” he said. “Sorry it took so long. But well… things. Things are busy.” And he’d been spending less time in public cemeteries ever since he’d relocated Ted’s body after Blackest Night.

He adjusted the flowers, so they weren’t covering up the names.

RANDOLPH“RALPH” WILLIAM  DIBNY
SUSAN “SUE”DEARBORN  DIBNY

“I’ll be back,” he said, and then he turned around and left the graveyard.

Still leaning against the tree, Jason Todd snuffed out his cigarette under his boot. “Who the hell was that?”

“An old friend of ours,” the ghost of Sue Dibny said, arm in arm with her husband.

“Well, I think the ghost is clear now,” the ghost of Ralph Dibny said, beaming at her, and then at Jason. 

Jason Todd, formerly Robin, formerly the crime lord known as the Red Hood, shrugged. “If you say so,” he said, starting down the hill towards the graves. ^[16]

Looking down at his paper list and finalizing the checks and crosses, Booster strolled into the compound’s monitor room. “Okay,” he said, “I can’t believe how long this took but. There. I talked to absolutely everyone.”

When he looked up, he was expecting annoyed scowls or stony lack of expression. He was hoping for some acknowledgement or, maybe, an apology. He was not even sure what for, but he was sure he was owed one.

What he couldn’t expect was to see someone utterly different in front of him.

She stood in the center of the room, arms crossed and confident. She was wearing a black costume with a full mask. A yellow bat was on her chest. He liked the shimmer of her cape but thought it could strangle her if she stepped on it. Which she could because the cape was draping the floor.

“Uh,” Booster said intelligently before glancing off then back to her. “This will seem like a weird question, but is this the right universe? Because… I’ve totally done that one before.”

“Booster Gold,” she said, like she had been practicing it.

He blinked at her. “Yeah?”

“I am Black Bat,” she informed him. “I’m here for Batman.”

Booster tilted his head. “Wait, I remember you… Batgirl?”

“No,” she said hesitantly before walking over to the computer and pressing a few buttons. The screen changed before Booster’s eyes to reveal a large bat, the same as on the new Batman’s chest. That became a globe. Bats began popping up across the countries. “Batman wants this. For you.”

“I knew it,” Booster said, walking forward. “He’s been training me to be Batman all along.”

She stiffened and looked at him. “No. Me.”

Whistling through his teeth, Booster put his hands on his hips. “Well, you’ve got his sense of humor down for sure. So good on you there.”

“We work together now,” she informed him. 

Booster looked down his list on paper and penciled in Black Bat? He then looked to the screen, grimacing, before trailing his pencil up to the top at Batman. With a heavy sketch, he marked through the check.

Chapter Text

He was the greatest wide receiver that the University of Michigan failed to aid in financial planning. He was the greatest recruit that the Green Lantern Corps nearly lost to circumstance.

And then, just as he had been when their League first formed, he was the greatest leader that any Justice League had ever unofficially sanctioned.

He was Guy Gardner. 

As he threw his duffle bag onto the kitchen counter where other League members were gathered, they only took mild offense. And that was because they knew he was only making his appearance known. 

Years had gone by since their group was together. And some of the members were different than before. That meant thMat they needed to learn what the others knew.

Guy Gardner was in charge this time. 

And it was his number one goal to make sure the man who tainted his League’s name—Maxwell Lord—paid for what he had done. 

They were not Maxwell Lord’s Super Buddies. 

They were…

JUSTICE LEAGUE INTERNATIONAL.

There was something comforting about wearing proper clothing again. Cargo pants and black shirts might have been practical for field work, but nothing was quite as empowering as a well fitted suit.

The past few months had been productive, for sure, but it had also been very hands-on in a way that put himself directly in the public eye. Now that his shield was gone, it was time to return to the role he truly excelled at.

Maxwell Lord looked at the young woman who was going to be working as his assistant. Not a Knight, not a Bishop, just an assistant for the time being. She was not even a Pawn in anything but the most literal sense. 

She was tall and blonde, with a good looking face, and she looked good in the catsuit uniform. Her target range scores were decent, but her true specialty was code breaking. He didn’t particularly have much use for that skill of hers, but when he got bored of her he could always send her back to that department. 

It was going to be difficult, having to rebuild from the ground up. The most competent people had to be purged, the smartest ones had fled, and the ones left were in shambles because all of Checkmate was essentially gutted. 

All he was left with were a handful of moderately useful agents and a wealth of information and databases. Plus, of course, himself. 

He had built himself up from far less than this. 

“I’ve got those files you asked for, Mister Lord,” she said. The stack of them was quite large, but that was okay, he had never been afraid of a little work. It would take some time to figure out the appropriate candidates, but he was confident he would have a full board soon enough. Sooner than Bruce Wayne could launch an effective counterattack, at least. 

“Thank you, Agent B3,” he said, waving her away. 

He had a pretty good idea of the team that Wayne was going to put together. His team never did get the appreciation they deserved, and far too many of his former employees had tried to distance themselves from the team and himself over the years. He had guesses, but he would have to wait and see who stuck around. 

He shook his head and went back to his real work. 

The dossiers for the Checkmate candidates weren’t going to read themselves, after all. 

He picked up the first one. 

“Zambesi, hmm?^[1] Well, this sounds promising.”

“Guy!” Bea hissed while Tora pulled her purse off the counter that was quickly being covered by Jaime’s overturned soda. 

“Was that necessary?” Nate added, picking up the duffle bag which Guy had slung onto the table haphazardly to begin the cataclysm of events. 

“Just keeping everyone on their toes since, apparently, no one else is going to keep you lot in shape,” Guy said, strolling along. He took no precaution for the others’ space as he planted himself on a stool and spun it around to face the rest of the team. “What? This is it?” 

Jaime was looking mournfully into his plastic cup. Nate was finding a spot for Guy’s things. Bea was jutting out her hip, fists by her side shaking with a greenish lick of fame occasionally coming off of them. 

Tora, sweet Tora, though, was there and looking ever so slightly bemused. 

And that, that right there, was enough to make any amount of obnoxious well worth it on Guy’s books. 

“I believe Power Girl is caught up at the moment, at a meeting for her company,”^[2] Tora explained. “Gavril—”

“Who?” Guy said, not liking the idea that some wild card was in their midst on day one.

“Rocket Red,” Bea answered coldly. “He’s been with us since Max came back on the scene. He’s good. Does Dmitri’s old unit proud.”

“I’ll decide that,” Guy replied, waving off the recommendation like he was swatting a fly. “Who else?”

“J’onn and Booster,” Nate answered, having apparently remembered whose stuff he was taking care of and promptly dropping it to the floor. “They’re upstairs with the new Batman-lite.”

“What? Who the fuck is that?” Guy asked. He paused, glancing at Jaime. “Hey, kid, ignore what I’m saying. Or, at least, don’t tell your mom.”

“I usually do,” Jaime answered, giving up and going to the kitchen’s soda fountain for more. 

Guy got to his feet. “Yo, Jaime, show some respect and clean up your mess here. Bats might be footing the bill but we’re still a Justice League. Can’t have sticky counters.”

“Seriously?” Jaime whined.

“Hey, asshole, where are you going? This is your mess!” Bea snapped. 

“Checking out who this new Bats is and reminding J’onn and Booster to not have important meetings without their glorious leader!” Guy yelled over his shoulder.

The capital city of Zambesi was an interesting mix of industries painted against the African savannahs. The architecture was disrupted around its roads where out of place equipment worked tirelessly, and broad Mandarin writing stood out against the mix of Bantu languages. 

Max couldn’t help but look out the window and catch the site of it all — humanity working, achieving, rebuilding at its finest. The sort of industriousness that has been set back for years. 

“Think of how much further along your city would be had General Maksai’s rule been allowed to continue its trajectory,”^[3] Max sighed. “I hear he was a close friend to many of the industries that now make so much of your economy again.”

“Yes! Yes this is exactly it,” the current president and general said, walking up to join Max at the window. “The villainous, traitorous so-called superhero Vixen murdered him! Disrupt our country’s progress, and then receive a home in the Justice League of the United States, Mister Lord! Disgraceful. Unspeakable. And this is why, despite my many American business friends, I will not permit them in this country. Not our economy. Not when their country’s superhero team supports that sinful woman!”

Putting on his best smile, Max turned to face the man directly. He noted the polished uniform as well as the four guards similarly dressed with AK47’s in hand. None of that would be strictly necessary, but it was a rather impressive show of power for a man less than six months into his coup government. 

“Vixen was never a member of any team I associated with, I assure you, President Kunda,” Max said sympathetically. 

“This I know,” Kunda said, stepping back from the window and toward his desk. He poured a glass of wine. “I had other business arrangements that have been more recently affected by international superheroes.” He glanced toward Max meaningfully. “I had business with an organization^[4] which could have given me anything off the markets of the rest of the world. To protect us from superheroes. To give us control through their weaknesses. Even the greatest ones. And Vixen and her Justice League destroyed this opportunity for Zambesi as well.”

“That’s terrible,” Max said, stepping up for a glass while taking note in his mind. He needed to know what this organization is. It sounded remotely useful for his own interests. 

“This is why I like your video, Mister Lord,” the warlord continued. “You will be watching the superheroes. That is precisely what Zambesi needs, someone keeping an eye and stopping these out of control superheroes with no regards for our borders and our countries.”

“With a union of similar interests, we can do that,” Max assured him. “Of course, it will require men capable of that task.”

“Kwesi’s men,” Kunda said with a shrug. “They are available now that he is dead by Vixen’s hands. Many of them also need away from the country as they are… unpopular with the villages they have worked around before Vixen’s attack.”

“Wonderful,” Max said brightly.

“And, of course, my hero killer should be useful,” the president-general said casually, topping off Max’s glass.

Max could not keep back the hungry look in his eyes. “Hero killer?” he repeated back.

Kunda drank from his glass then waved over his shoulder toward his men. They moved aside from the door to the hall, one opening it. 

A woman unlike any other Max had seen before walks through the doors, tall enough to duck through its doorway. She wore a traditional wooden mask with hauntingly blank eyes and mouth. Her hair was like a straw lion’s mane. She wore bright fabric bunched and tied with rope on most of her body, ornaments of gold and bronze mixed with teeth and scales and feathers all across. She wore metal claws over her hands carried carefully away from her body.. 

Max raised his brows at the woman. Even when he had access to all of the League’s files on villains and rogues he had never seen the likes of her before.

“You are the hero killer?” he asked her skeptically. 

“I kill false heroes,” she answered, mask unmoving. “I am their Tabu.”^[5]

Smirking, Max offered his hand to shake. “Welcome aboard.”

The Martian Manhunter’s presence was intimidating, but the young Black Bat did a good job of continuing her operations as if nothing was different. Booster couldn’t tell if it was because of her experience dealing with Batman or if Batman’s clan were innately less easily intimidated by judgmental Martians.

“Batwing is a…contact,” Black Bat explained, gesturing to the computer screen where Africa on the map began to glow. “Said unmarked plane, uh, grounded this morning.”

Booster scratched at his head. “Was it grounded for a particular reason?” he asked, attempting his level best to act like the attentive student he had never been. 

“No,” Black Bat answered, brushing off the fairly competent question like it was an annoyance.

Looking back at the screen, Booster searched for the information he obviously missed.

She meant landed.

The shock of the echoing voice in his head was nearly enough to make Booster leap out of his skin. He looked around, eyes settling on J’onn as the obvious epiphany fell upon him. The Martian’s red eyes glowed a gentle yellow before dulling back to their normal hue. 

“Have you spoken to Batwing since this morning?” J’onn asked, redirecting the momentum of the conversation forward. 

“I don’t…” Black Bat stopped, teetering slightly before turning around to face both of the men. She looked more controlled and determined as she did so. “No.”

“So are we waiting for your guy or are we concerned about him?” Booster pressed, not certain what he had been called up there for otherwise. He probably still needed to greet everyone, get them comfortable, and debrief them on what’s happened so far. 

It was not like catching J’onn up to speed, he was a telepath. The others might have wanted explanations. 

Hell, Booster might want explanations. 

“May need more…eyeses on the scene,” Black Bat agreed. “With me.”

Booster squinted at her, uncertain. Obviously Batman trusted her, he wouldn't put the kind of target on her back if he didn’t. And Booster was certain she was a former Batgirl, which his twin would fangirl about. But he hadn’t gotten all the pieces just yet. 

“If the coordinates were correct and this possible Maxwell Lord sighting comes to fruition, he will be in Zambesi,” J’onn said clearly. “Before anyone is to go there then we must evaluate its strategic significance to Max.”

“Sure,” Booster said. He folded his arms expectantly and looked at the other two. 

Martian Manhunter and Black Bat stared back at him.

“What?” Booster asked in confusion.

“Of anyone we have access to in the current League, you have the most personal experience and understanding of Lord’s motivations,” J’onn informed Booster, like he was a child. “It is your insight that will be most helpful in this instance.”

Balking, Booster fell back a step. “You asked me to come up here because I’m a Max expert?” his voice cracked.

Black Bat tilted her head, a sympathetic look on her face that had not been there before. “Sorry.” She then clarified, “You’re… offended by it.”

“How old are you?” Booster demanded of her.

“Enough,” she assured him.

“Okay,” he cleared his throat, then added, “No fucking shit I’m offended.”

“Booster,” J’onn said wearily, pinching at the bridge of his eyes. “It is not a slight upon your character.”

“It sure as hell feels like one!” Booster snapped back. “How am I supposed to react? ‘Oh, thank you, J’onn, why yes, I do declare I am known as that fascist murderer’s former bootlicker!’”

Black Bat stepped toward the large computer screen and flung her hand against the screen, onto the file of Batwing. “No time for this!” she snapped in a gravelly snarl that would do Batman proud. “Got a soldier … a good soldier… helping us. In trouble maybe. For this.” She gestured to the compound as a whole. 

Guilt-tripping must have been a required Bat skill, Booster decided.

Taking a breath, Booster let go of his defense slightly and refocused on J’onn. “Honestly, after we took out OMAC-Prime, Max is starting at square one. He can basically go in any direction and it makes it hard to pin down which one he’ll choose.”

“Is there some method he’ll prefer, you believe?” J’onn asked curiously.

“He likes talking to people, using politics,” Booster said. He ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the strands out of the way of his visor. “But you know that, J’onn. You know all of this.”

“Yet I am the one of us who has most underestimated him,” J’onn said grimly, his hands firmly on his hips. He exhaled sharply. “Your input is helpful. Please continue.”

“Continue where?” Booster asked, waving to the screen. “Why Zambesi? I don’t know. Like, is there a reason other people would be interested in it? Maybe if I knew more about it. Like is there anything exciting going on that Max could be involved in?”

J’onn took his turn to squint. “The general country’s unrest?”

“Oh, is there unrest?” Booster asked blindly.

“For many years now, since Vixen ended the government which began with the political coup of her father,” J’onn said, looking over Booster critically. “Since then there have been civil wars involving many factions, particularly Intergang wanted criminal despots using the militias as cover for drugs and metahuman oriented weaponry. The Justice League dealt with it again only recently.”

Booster’s eyebrows raised for his hairline. “Holy shit. Vixen—like Justice League Vixen —overthrew a government?” J’onn looked unamused, so Booster leaned toward Black Bat in search of support. “In my defense, the twenty-fifth century educational system is definitely not that detailed about wars before World War IV.”

“You have been living in the twenty-first century for all of these events,” J’onn reminded him stoically. 

Booster sighed and pinched his nose in defeat. “What else do you guys want from me here?” he asked.

Black Bat tilted her head to the side. “Team’s next move.”

Still processing that information, Booster wasn’t sure what to really say when the doors to the monitor room burst open with a giant green glowing boot on the other side. Black Bat looked ready to attack, bat-shaped throwing knives already out and at the ready as she faced the door. 

J’onn and Booster, however, were already staring expectantly.

“Jesus Christ,” Booster said, dragging his hands down his face.

“You’re asking the wrong hombre that question, Bat-ghoul!” Guy declared in his smarmy Guy fashion, a crooked grin disrupting his hounded face. “Or didn’t these two lamebrains let you know that this operation is officially sanctioned by me? Guy Gardner, Green Lantern of Sector 2814.”

“Oh,” Black Bat said quickly, putting her throwing knives away. “Got this. Batman says to—” she cracked her knuckles and rapidly stepped forward.

“WAIT!” Booster yelled out, jumping between them. Both Guy and Black Bat seemed confused. “I just… soldier in trouble right? Let’s do One-Punch Batman later.”^[6]

The two glared at each other for a moment, and then offered a handshake.

While the demands were fairly unorthodox, Max supposed that he would not trust an ally in this type of environment who was not willing to push for their own ambitions. 

Nothing could have surprised the dictatorial leader more—after he had asked for protection from Justice League affairs, a nearly thirty million dollar beginning stipend for what men stayed behind protecting President Kunda, and a photographed handshake with the United States president to solidify public image in the Zambesi presses—than Max’s exuberant “Yes, of course!”

His first coordinated success behind him, Max accepted the guarded escort back to the private airstrip. The driver took them through the streets of the capital, calling on all the blustering public to move out of the way as they inched along. 

There was an interesting mix of people—mostly Zambesi residents in brightly clad clothes ranging from western styled tops to highly socially restricted traditional garb to a few with barely even shirts on their backs; a decent number of Chinese construction and contracting types between building sites; and the always present overly sun blocked white tourists. Max finds it fascinating but also invigorating—reminding himself that these are people, that they are humans. 

After all, Zambesi had made possessing a metagenetic trait punishable by death after Vixen’s act of treason. 

He glanced toward the supremely tall woman in the Doei mask sat beside him, her mask no longer cut with the simple circular shapes but with wide set ears and an agape mouth with rounded teeth carved into it. 

“How many of those do you keep on you at any one time?” he asked, eyebrow raised curiously. He looked around her minimalist outfit and the basest of accessories. “And I would guess that you are definitely not going to tell me where they’re hidden.”

Her face turned slowly toward him, as if the unmoving eyes carved into the mask were truly the ones she saw out of. She did not answer him.

“Lovely,” Max sighed, leaning against his side of the car’s door. He glanced up to the armed officer in the front passenger seat. “You. Kid.”

The officer startled slightly before glancing back over his shoulder. “Yessir?” he slurred together clumsily.

“What’s your name?” Max asked, squinting in an attempt to make out the patch over the boy’s chest. “D...Z…”

“Zavimbe, Sir,” the officer said reluctantly, staring forward again. 

“Hm,” Max tapped on his chin in thought. “And what’s your take on the living statue we have with us here?”

“I do not make it a habit to speak out of turn about a lady,” he offered somewhat lamely. He still stared ahead, almost unblinking.

Max watched the back of the young man’s head, his frown setting. The car still had not moved and there were a few Chinese workers standing off the side of the road staring into the government car with interest. 

Clapping his hands together, Max put on a broad smile. “I have a great idea!” he said. He pulled the lever of the car door and swung it open, making a large excitement for the surrounding crowd.

“Sir!” the soldiers, driver and Zavimbe, yelled in surprise. 

Walking over to Zavimbe’s door, Max knocked on the window and motioned for Zavimbe to come out. The young man looked bewildered, but followed as he was told. 

“We’ll switch spots,” Max said, clapping his hands on the man’s broad shoulders and all but pushing him along toward where Max had once sat. The haunting masked eyes of Tabu settled upon Zavimbe. “I’m sure it means nothing to you, but this lovely lady has earned the interesting moniker of hero killer. Maybe you and I will one day see why, hm?”

Tabu’s head subtly shifted, her mask’s shadows grew long and large over the pained expression of the mask. Her hands shifted, coming back up from her sides with the long, metal claws suddenly attached.

Among the crowd gathered around the car, two seemingly Chinese workers hung back and mostly away from the line of sight from the vehicle.

Wearing her bright construction vest and hard hat had almost made Cassandra Cain not seem obscenely short compared to the other workers. Almost. At the very least, none had noticed her in the commotion. But she also was having difficulties seeing around the crowds. 

She hid her left hand behind her, up her sleeve and near her available arsenal of devices from Batman. 

“What’s going on?” Cass asked the man beside her.

Despite his normal appearances, Martian Manhunter was not at all noticeable among the crowd. His shapeshifting skills had become rather useful for their oversight mission. 

“It is difficult to say,” J’onn noted with a hum. “It is too risky to reach out for a scan of the minds around us while Max Lord is around. His levels of telepathy may not be as honed as my own talents, but they make him sensitive to other psychic powers. I could be revealing our presence and endanger your operative.”

It still sounded so strange, hearing her operatives. But Cassandra didn’t have the finesse to argue the point. 

Instead she just lamely offered an “Okay” in response. 

Cassandra moved to her tiptoes and stretched with an arch to look over the others’ heads. When she did so, however, she got little in the way of visuals. 

The only thing which was clear was the sounds of sweeping metal and a unison of screams from the crowd as everyone began to race away. Cassandra already had her batarangs at the ready when J’onn went from standing on his feet to halfway into the air, disguise melting away into his greenish Martian form. 

“Our cover is blown!” he announced.

Through the crowds, David Zavimbe—Batwing—was skidding back on the heels of his boots, the AK47 in his grasp sliced cleanly in half by a tall woman pulling herself out of the vehicle with metallic claw extensions to her arms and hands. Her face, a wooden mask with a hideous snarl, was facing down David with immense concentration. 

Cassandra pulled her oversized overalls off and slipped on her full face mask before sending three batarangs flying in the direction of the woman. 

With grace, the woman ducked out of the way of each one, her wooden face bobbing synchronously before turning its gaze on J’onn and Cass. 

When the three batarangs hit the sides of the car, Maxwell Lord — looking spiffy in his three piece suit even in the Zambesi heat — turned and looked at them. He smirked, jumping into the front seat of the vehicle and hitting the hood.

“Drive,” Max ordered, sounding amused. 

The streets were in a riot and the car sped off, threatening to hit civilians all the same. 

That did not seem to concern the woman who was standing before the three heroes. Her hands drew up, close to her chest. She was silent, and then she attacked.

Guy grimaced with each unnecessary click of Booster’s camera phone. As per usual, the golden boy was overdoing his schtick and being a little bit too obvious as he took a picture of buildings around Zambesi’s capital. 

Unlike Guy, whose open Hawaiian shirt wasn’t overdoing anything. Least of all stereotypes. 

“This is so stupid,” Guy announced to the world. 

“It’s playing the part,” Booster argued, standing up and swiping through his amateurish pictures. “Maybe that’s your problem, Guy, you haven’t gotten into the bit.”

Curling his nose, Guy looked at Booster. “The what ? ”

Booster glanced back at him and flipped his wrist in the air. “The—the bit. The part? The role? The gag?” He paused thoughtfully. With a quick shake of his head, Booster finally put his phone away. “Never mind. It was never really your scene to begin with.”

Scowling, Guy followed Booster’s aimless stroll around the corner for the third time since they got there. “No, please, continue to explain every detail of your master plan here,” Guy scoffed. “Undercover, we’re going to check on an agent who is already undercover, who is tailing Max who is—wait for it—undercover.”

A funny look grew on Booster’s face as he gazed into the near distance. “Quadruple undercover with some change.”

“It’s idiotic,” Guy snapped. “We should just pop in, beat the living shit out of Max before he finishes up whatever he’s doing, and while he’s unconscious, have PeeGee lobotomize him with heat vision.”

Booster glared back at him. “That’s the most rational plan in your book?” he asked critically. “No international incidents to be had here, no countries known for murdering metahumans in the streets being prompted to more discord from having their sovereignty impeded on by no-name superheroes.”

Guy crossed his arms. “Cleanest, simplest version of the plan. And it’s nothing that hasn’t been done already.”

Fidgeting, Booster’s shoulders dipped. “Okay, maybe as a Plan B. Or, actually, more like a Plan D, but still.”

“Stop acting like you’re the final say in this!” Guy grouched angrily. “You’re not calling the shots here, Gold! I am! And I’m about to—” Guy hesitated, his brain backfiring slightly as he caught up with the implications of the day. “Oh holy shit.” He turned and stared widely at Booster.

In response, Booster blinked in obvious confusion. “What? What is it?”

“Are… No, it can’t be,” Guy all but gasped. “Booster, are you the fucking leader of the team?”^[7]

“Uh,” Booster grunted noncommittally. 

“The actual hell?” Guy got out just before screaming and commotion began to overtake the streets that they were supposed to be monitoring. 

“Okay, guess it’s showtime,” Booster said, already in the air, his fist with his flight ring enclosed. “Ready to get extrajudicially executed just like you’ve been wanting to do to Max?”

“I was born ready,” Guy said, suiting up with his ring. He glanced at Booster suspiciously. “Killing metahumans actually something they do here?”

“Ever since Vixen killed the president ten years ago,” Booster answered quickly.

“She fucking what? You’re talking about Justice League Vixen?” Guy sputtered.

“Yeah,” Booster flew forward. “A leader should probably know these things.”

They raced forward over the crowds, ignoring the equally horrified screams pointed directly at them, when a black sedan raced forward, flags on its hood flapping wildly. It made no attempts to stop for the crying out pedestrians as it barreled forward. 

Reacting fast, Guy used his wring to make an ice cream scoop, quickly grabbing up the bystanders in the direct path. He was still setting them aside when he heard Booster yelling. 

“Fuck! Guy! The car! It’s him!” 

Then, despite his ring, Guy saw all red. 

“Motherfucker,” Guy snarled, zipping toward the car and making a balled green fist to bring down on the hood. 

The black metal of the car rippled and shuddered before sinking into the engine. It crushed in toward the road and sent the back of the car peeling up into the air off its wheels. The driver hit the airbag, but Guy couldn’t make out where Max was in the vehicle. 

Landing on the ground nearest the vehicle, Guy let it slam down onto its chassis, and ripped the door open to look for Max. 

“Behind you,” a familiar voice said in his ear. 

Without hesitation, Guy turned on his heel and brought his fist right into contact with the speaker’s jaw. Max fell to the ground, flat on his ass, holding up a gloved hand as he held his bleeding nose and mouth. He was still wearing his black shirt and cargos as he pushed back against the ground. 

“Stop, wait,” Max said, still all smirks. “Don’t you want to know what I have to say?”

“I literally can’t think of anything I’m less interested in,” Guy admitted before rearing back to hit again. 

That time, though, he was stopped by two seemingly tiny hands clasping around his wrist. 

Guy looked back and saw Black Bat holding onto him with a blackened, expressionless face. “No!” she snarled.

“You Bat-types are all the same, you know that?” Guy growled, throwing her off with a push of his ring. “Always judging! Always pushing your moral compass on the rest of us when no one asked you. Fuck you!” 

Black Bat took a step only to be blown back by a swat of Guy’s ring again. She landed but looked momentarily perplexed before getting into a boxing stance. “Make it… fair,” she challenged.

Glaring, Guy was quick to pull off his ring. “Booster, get your ass over here and hold—”

The very mention of Booster brought Guy’s attention to the fact that he had not seen Booster since chasing after the black car. He wondered, for a frightful moment, if something had happened, and looked around only to see Booster just behind him, sitting on the ground holding onto a bleeding mouth. In the exact position that Max was only a head’s turn ago. 

“What—” Guy began only to once again see red. “That son of a bitch—” When he turned around a second time, his heart stopped. Instead of the black sedan that Guy had attacked, there was a dusty red truck, damaged beyond repair. People gathered, helping out the disoriented driver who looked fearfully in their direction. 

Guy immediately felt sick as he realized what had happened. “He got me,” Guy muttered. “He actually got me.”

J’onn landed nearby, holding under the armpits of a man in military dress. He faintly resembled the pictures Black Bat shared with them before they came to Zambesi—a little worse for wear, sweaty and bloody. 

“What happened?” J’onn demanded more than he asked. 

Opening his mouth, Guy was prepared for his usual defensiveness, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked at the crowds and chaos. When he met J’onn’s gaze again, it was even less forgiving than before.

“Max,” Booster answered for Guy, getting on his feet with some help from Black Bat. “We need out of here, J’onn. It’s about to turn more sour.”

With a huff, J’onn pulled out his JLA transmitter and, as quickly as they came, they were gone from Zambesi again.

J’onn thought carefully on the assessment of their first partial mission. 

Sources placed highly were burned. Press were devouring a political blunder. More discourse and metahuman distrust was erupting in central Africa. And claims were solidified from Maxwell Lord’s appeal to the world at large. 

Superheroes needed someone to watch over them. He was going to be the one watching. 

Watching so that events like Zambesi didn’t happen again. 

“President Kunda will be even harder to remove internally now that he has ingratiated himself with the people by turning them against a common enemy,” Batwing said, fully suited in his massive and powerful Batwing suit as he stood before the Justice League International. “And I predict even more people will join his militias, consolidating former rivalries in order to join this cause.”

“So,” Beatriz grunted, putting a hand to her forehead, “we handed him a literal army.”

“From the Zambesi perspective,” Batwing continued. 

Beside Bea, looking particularly concerned for the corner where Guy was sulking, Tora asked, “Did any positives come from this?” 

“No,” Booster said quickly, not looking particularly inspired himself as he paced.

“That is not true,” J’onn sighed, nearing the center of the room and drawing the attention back to him. “We are a step closer to understanding Lord’s movements. And we understand where his weaknesses are. Zambesi is not a high priority ally for someone of Lord’s connections and previous powers. To resort to it, he is hurting in his former areas of strengths. He is starting from the bottom, as Booster suggested before this mission.”

Booster stopped his pacing long enough to raise a brow at J’onn but he didn't accept the compliment. 

“Okay,” Bea said. “What can we do next?”

“Uh, not invade other countries for a while,” Jaime piped up. “Pretty sure my dad’s going to have a lecture about that when I get home. Kind of close to home.”

The others were silent, somewhat mortified by the turn of events. 

All save for the usually reserved Black Bat. “We saved a friend,” she announced. The others looked at her. Booster especially seemed a bit surprised, only added to when she nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“We learn from this,” J’onn pressed the others. “From our accomplishments and from our failures. And, above all, we proceed from this with even more caution than we had before.”

The others nodded in agreement but the emotions J’onn could feel from around the room were far from a consensus. 

J’onn had known these men and women for nearly half of their lives by that point. He understood them intuitively. And while he believed in their potential and in their merits, they were also wildly untamable. 

They were also more easily discouraged than any other team J’onn had ever worked with. And in his years on Earth, he had worked with dozens. 

He hoped, just this once, with the stakes so high, they could push through their follies and use all of their merits to the best of their abilities. 

Just this once.

Maxwell Lord descended from the plane, grinning as he examined the Moscow skyline.

There were lots of things that he missed about the 80s, but how much simpler it was to travel to Russia in something that he really had to enjoy.

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he stepped toward the waiting car. It was amazing how many people were more than happy to roll out the carpet for Maxwell Lord and Checkmate, in Russia and around the world. Back in the U.S., too – he had more than a few Senators happy to sell him their local superheroes down the river. And that was not even getting into local politics.

The cold wind set his teeth on edge, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He knew that cameras were everywhere, and it was such a better visual to be calm and confident, his thick green overcoat was his only concession to the Russian weather.

“Mister Lord,” Agent B3 said as he entered the car. She was seated in the back with him, having reluctantly changed out of her Checkmate suit and armor in favor of a discreet skirt suit, playing the role of secretary that she refused to believe she had been relegated to. “I have that dossier on the Bats seen in Zambesi that you wanted.”

“Do we have names?”

“Code names only,” she said, fidgeting nervously under his gaze. “Mostly from news reports in local areas.”

Max’s gaze sharpened. Reports of Batmen from all corners of the globe had been increasing for the last few months—Max didn’t know what Bruce was playing at, throwing his money around like that, going so brazen and flaunting his connection with Batman in public. Sure, it gave him some level of cover, but it also brought him under much closer scrutiny.

He couldn’t deny that it was infuriating, though. Bruce and his brats were already irritating, and now they were multiplying. 

“Most of them are difficult to keep records of digitally,” B3 explained. “They tend to be corrupted on any device with an external connection.”

It was probably Barbara Gordon. Another little touch of Ted Kord’s legacy haunting him^[8]—or at least Ted Kord’s money, which had been bankrolling Gordon and her merry little girl gang since the beginning. 

Max lit a cigar in thought.

There was also Red Robin, who had corrupted the Ünternet on his own.^[9] Vicki Vale was convinced that Tim Drake was behind the cowl, at least before a very messy and very public assassination attempt put the teenager in crutches. He had also been rescued by Red Robin.^[10]

Max wasn’t so easily fooled as a reporter, however. He knew all about the various tricks that superheroes could pull to preserve their identities—he helped stage a few over the years.

It was not a guarantee, of course—the Bats are trading names and costumes faster than he could blink. There were at least two Batmen in Gotham City alone, and he didn’t have a clear identity on the other one even though it was clearly not Bruce Wayne. 

“The two have been identified as the Batman of the Republic of the Congo and the Bat of Hong Kong,” B3 explained. “Although, the first is more of an operative for all of central Africa, he is mostly seen in the Congo.^[11] There is not a lot of evidence about his motives or specialties other than making life difficult both for militia groups and the local authorities in equal parts. With the limited resources on information gathering, his status as a meta is hard to discern. Most information is secondhand accounts at this point. We’re uncertain how he was able to go undercover and get so close to your security detail in Zambesi.” She paused to shift gears before continuing. “We only have a partial match on the woman, but the analysts think the best odds are the operative in Hong Kong, Black Bat^[12].”

“Black Bat?” he repeated. “Honestly, they need to work on those names. They were doing so well when they had a bird thing going. Now it’s all darkness and flying rats.”

“Um, yes sir. Anyways, Black Bat seemed to be a Hong Kong native—she was operating in the area for a while as an anonymous vigilante before joining Batman Inc., around the time that Red Robin was spotted in the area, so we believe that he recruited her. She’s also been spotted in mainland China and Gotham City, though. It was in Gotham that we believe the switch was made one of the few operatives to have been spotted on multiple continents.”

Tapping the butt of his cigar, Max squinted at her. “We’re not sure, though?”

“No, sir. We’ve only got a partial photo, and we have no record of Black Bat working with any team previously, which would make this move out of our expectations.”

“So we’re guessing.”

B3 paused in apprehension. “Um, yes sir. The analysts believe it’s possible, though.”

“Hmm,” Max hummed. He lowered the window to let the smoke out, and pretended he didn’t hear B3’s soft sigh of relief. “She’s been seen in Gotham, you say? Before this new Batman she supposedly became.”’

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.” He reached out the window to tap the ash off his cigar. “Get me a list, will you? I want all visitors to Wayne Enterprises HQ. Not employees, unless they’re from out of town.”

“Sir?” 

“Wayne’s funding them. She’ll need equipment. Stands to reason that she needs to visit R&D.” Max rolled the window back up. “If not… well. Agent B3, I’ll need a list of new candidates for Project Owl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please,” Max said, smiling. “When we’re alone… Call me Max.”

Casually, he swiped away the slight trickle of blood from his nose.

Chapter Text

He was the greatest of the current generation of Soviet Superheroes. He was the last true Communist left in the capitalist, authoritarian place that his beloved nation had become. He was... 

GAVRIL IVANOVICH, THE ROCKET RED! 

He cheerfully sat down at the table amongst his new colleagues, all of whom he had nothing but the highest esteem for. After all, how can he not be excited to be amongst the ranks of FIRE: The Lady Wreathed in Flames , ICE: The Queen of Winter , BOOSTER GOLD: The Hero of the Future, BATMAN: The Dark Knight, J’ONN J’ONZZ: The Martian Manhunter, POWER GIRL: The Woman of Steel... 

Oh, and Guy Gardner was also here! 

Truly, it was a group that any true-hearted Communist should have been proud to serve with!

And the fact that he was, in fact, barred from re-entering his home country on the grounds of terrorism was not at all relevant! 

At the moment, the team was convalescing after their rocky first outing as a team, and attempting to discuss what their next move should be.

Listening to Guy Gardner attempt to unbraid Batman was a fascinating experience. Particularly since Batman did not seem to be paying the Green Lantern any heed at all, instead continuing his conversation with Booster and J’onn as if the man was nothing more than an irritating fly. 

To be working alongside the infamous Green Lantern promised to be a fascinating experience for Gavril. The man had been so thoroughly banned from all Eastern Europe for most of Gavril’s lifetime that it felt as if the man had been eclipsed by his legend. The stories seemed impossible—containing nuclear blasts with his ring, invading countries single-handedly, leveling city blocks, all while keeping up a vocabulary that had him permanently banned from public broadcast networks—that it seemed to be at odds with the man himself, who was just an inch shorter than Gavril, but seemed... smaller, somehow, next to Booster Gold, the Martian Manhunter, and Batman. They all seemed to tower over him.   

Fire, Ice, Power Girl, and Captain Atom seemed content to ignore the show, so Gavril believed he should probably follow their lead. However, he found himself still fascinated; much like Jaime, who seemed to be torn between horror and laughter. 

The Justice League International was a strange place for him to be in. On the one hand, he felt as if he knew them all quite well. He knew Dmitri well, and the man had always spoken highly of his years on the JLI. He had spoken with such fondness for all of them, and then, in turn, when Gavril had been given the chance to work with them during their days hunting Maxwell Lord, he thought that he had gained some understanding of them. 

They were strange, that was certain, but it was more than that. 

There was a camaraderie between all of them. Even Guy Gardner seemed to have slotted into things well, and he hadn’t even been with them—he hadn’t escaped Maxwell Lord’s psychic field that removed himself from the memories of the world’s population, nor had he found himself cured of this amnesia with the aid of technology. 

Guy Gardner should, by all means, have been the outsider, not Gavril. It was Gavril who had been right by their side for nearly the entire ordeal. 

But instead, the Green Lantern was right at home, while Gavril found himself shrinking away from the weight of history in the room. 

Perhaps it was only natural that he felt so out of sorts. Most of them have known each other for nearly two decades. Jaime, who was still only a child and had to have been even more of one when the team had first formed, was proud to call half of the team his mentors. The boy seemed to have endless stories about adventures he had found himself in. 

All Gavril had was his armor, a connection that felt almost tenuous, compared to the burden of history.

His armor, and a kiss.^[1]

He glanced sideways at Beatriz, who was completely absorbed in something that Tora was saying.

… perhaps, just his armor.

“You’re wanting me to, what? Apologize to a dictator? Is that where you’re at Bats?”

Guy’s voice droned on in a particular speed and tempo that made it easier to treat as white noise.  It was the same way Batman had dealt with the annoyances of the Riddler or Penguin after they were captured. A lot of bluster, not much meant to chew over.

Booster was new to the kind of focus Guy was giving him. It was one thing to ignore or joke about Guy’s rants when he was not on the receiving end, another when it was at you.

Batman needed to give Booster pointers for later.

“No one’s saying anything like that, Guy, hold your horses,” Booster tried, annoyance hedging every word.

J’onn looked at Batman momentarily before intercepting. “Guy Gardner, I believe I told you that your performance in Zambesi was already assessed and there was no need to continue to relitigate it.”

Guy’s sharp canines showed in his snarl. “If that’s true, then why is he here?” he demanded, pointing directly in Batman’s face.

Holding back a sigh, Batman shook his head. It was completely predictable that appointing a surrogate would cause such unrest. The problem was only compounded by the fact that he had made a point of not explaining himself to anyone else.

“That isn’t why I’m here, Gardner,” Batman said, his tone gravelly and hard. Maybe harder than he meant. “I needed to be briefed on the situation.” He settled a meaningful look on Booster. “And I also needed another conversation with you, Booster.”

A flash of anxiety crossed Booster’s face before being quickly masked with a more cartoonish and put upon expression. He bodily sighed.

“Am I going to have to make more recruitment calls?” Booster whined. “Was the first round not embarrassing enough?”

“Now, Booster,” Batman ordered, turning to guide them toward the little used conference room.

At least, Batman assumed it was little used. No matter the year or decade it was still the JLI, after all.

There was a joking unison of “oohs” from a few of the other members that earned a swatting from Booster before he followed Batman right along and closed the door behind them.

“What’s up, Batty-o?” Booster yawned as he entered.

“Is the Zambesi incident as bad as it looks on paper?” Batman demanded.

Booster looked at him incredulously. “Was that you going easy on us out there?” he asked. His eyes widened slightly. “Wait, what are you going to act like if I say it’s worse?”

“This isn’t a reflection on the team,” Batman assured him.

“Oh,” Booster breathed with a sigh of relief. Then, a step or two later than he probably should have, Booster stiffened and looked at Batman. “Wait. What’s that mean? Who is any of this a reflection on?”

Batman didn’t answer, merely tightening his frown.

Booster straightened to his full height and stared evenly at Batman. “If this is about Black Bat, she was fine in the field. Had the right priorities. Had good instincts. Was even able to yoink Guy out of Max’s hold when I couldn’t. And she was going to punch him for you!”

Despite himself, Batman felt a tug at the corner of his mouth.

If Booster caught it, he didn’t let on. “Seriously, is that what this is about? That’s my bad, I stopped her early. If you need to be appeased, though, I’ll hold Guy down with my force field so she has a shot across the bow at him!”

“This is not about punching Gardner either,” Batman said clearly.

Booster’s head tilted. “Is it not-not about him?” he pressed.

“Michael,” Batman said firmly, putting an end to the routine. “I need to know how she operated outside of her usual jurisdiction.”

“Pretty sure vigilantes don’t have jurisdictions,” Booster countered as he let his shoulders slide forward again, his hands on his hips. “But yeah, she was great. Perfectly bat-like.” He paused in thought before glancing toward Batman, a glint in his visor hiding the intent of his eyes. “So. The next Batman, huh?”

“It is an option,” Batman said honestly.^[2]

“Hell of an option to promise somebody,” Booster scoffed. “Though, again, not sure what it has to do with her working with us. Making sure she acts like you would have on an old JLI mission? If she’s not, berate her and show her the tapes in the locker room before next practice, Coach?”

“Making sure she does better than I would have,” Batman argued pointedly. “I made my share of mistakes as well.”

“Yeah but, like, it’s weird how your comparisons are always, like, the number one thing you bring up with these kinds of things,” Booster argued. 

“Are you defending my protege after working with her for less than one mission?” Batman asked, bemused.

“That’s me, the eternal defender of the underdog,” Booster shrugged. His eyes hardened. “Are you going to give her a hard time for Guy and me fucking up the phalanx formation or are you cool with her?”

Feeling his turn to be defensive, Batman narrowed his eyes. “There is no need to be concerned when it comes to me and my children, Booster. Keep that in mind.”

“Whatever you say, Boss,” Booster replied shortly.

Sighing, Batman headed for the door. “You still don’t understand, Booster,” Batman said, “I’m talking to you because you’re the boss.”

He did his best to not turn back, but as he opened the door, Batman couldn’t help but smirk at the expression he left on Booster’s face.

“My friends,” Gavril announced, hanging up the phone. Then, he had to pause. Was friends too strong of a word? Truly, he felt as if he barely knew them, particularly with Batman, Guy Gardner, and the Martian Manhunter in the mix.

Nonetheless, he had to persevere. “I have a announcement of much importance! I have received word from dear friend of mine, Ivan, and he tells me that our Maxwell Lord has been spotted in Moscow. He will have meetings with many important people, mostly spies and such.”

“Moscow?” Booster said. The man looked concerned.  “What does he want in Moscow?”

“Well, Ivan worries that Max seeks to gains control of the Rocket Red program. That he is meeting with many bureaucrats and administrators.”

“Gain control,” Beatriz corrected his grammar. “Wrong verb tense.”

“My apologies,” he said. “The idea of Maxwell Lord in control of the rest of my comrades… after he had so callously had them killed once already… it is unbearable. Like most other things that man does.”

“What should we do?” Ice asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “He’s already got one army… he’s two steps ahead of us, constantly!” 

She turned to Batman, expectantly.

Batman didn’t flinch. “Booster?”

For a man as tall as Booster Gold, the deflation was considerable. “I–” he glanced around the room, and then straightened up. “Well, Tora’s still a U.N. Ambassador, right?”

Everyone turned to stare at her. 

“Oh. Um. Yes. I guess?” Ice said, fidgeting.

“Well, being direct didn’t really work last time. So, if Tora can use her Diplomacy stuff to, like… meet some of those bureaucrats that Gavril was talking about, we can tell them what happened when Max took control of the Rockets when we were fighting. Show them how he’s bad for their country. Maybe bring up Dmitri.”

The air goes out of the room at the mention of the name.

“Dmitri died because of Max. And Dmitri was one of the biggest heroes that eastern Europe ever had,” Booster said, as if he was thinking out loud.

“That is true,” Gavril said, jumping in. “There is a large statue for him and everything.”

“Dmitri’s family lives in Moscow, don’t they?” Ice asked, frowning. 

“Yes, they do,” Booster said, with a shrug. “Well Belina and Tascha do, Mischa is in London for school.” 

They all looked at him in surprise. 

 “I check in on them.” He looked away, shifting. “I… I told him I would.”

The silence reigned again, and then Ice threw herself bodily at Booster, nearly knocking him down in the process.

“You’re a good friend, Booster Gold,” she muttered. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Gavril looked away, unsure of what to say or feel about any of it. He hadn’t known about Dmitri’s son going to university. He should have. Even if he had not been the one to make such a deathbed oath, it was what he owed to an old comrade. He swore to check up upon Belina once he had leave next.” 

Booster and Ice separated.

“So we’re going to be trading on Dmitri’s death?” Guy said, making a face. “That’s…”

“I don’t like it either,” Booster said. “But we can’t let Max get control of the Rockets.”

They all looked at each other in agreement on that one.

“Does he have any Checkmate agents with him?” Beatriz said. “Most of my contacts in there have dried up–Max went on some sort of purge after he officially took control. I still haven’t heard from the Black Queen.”^[3]

“She’s safe,” Batman said. “Another Batman^[4] managed to get her out, along with a few others, before Max had made too much progress. He wasn’t able to heed most of your warnings about Max, but he did manage to process enough of it in order to assure the safety of some key allies.”

Guy looked particularly annoyed. “Another Batman?”

Beatriz closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she muttered. “But anyways. Max can’t be controlling everyone in Checkmate. He doesn’t have the power.”

“We thought he didn’t have the power to wipe himself from the entire planet’s memories ,” Guy countered sharply. “I’d say we probably should just assume that if he can flap his mouth, he can do whatever he wants. Which is why they’re going to have to wire his jaw shut by the time I’m done with him!”

“No, Guy,” Booster said, flatly.

Guy froze up and turned back toward Booster. “What?”

Booster’s frown tightened. “You’re not on this one.”

“WHAT?” Guy was immediately in Booster’s face. 

“Neither am I!” Booster said, crossing his arms. “You and I screwed up in Zambesi. We’re currently trending on Twitter under the SuperFails hashtag. We’re going to have to take a back seat. Until this blows over.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Guy demanded. “That asshole is–”

“I know,” Booster shouted. He took a deep breath. “Believe me, I know. But Ice, Fire, and Gavril have this one. Power Girl and Blue Beetle are on standby.”

“Anyways,” Beatriz said. “He only could wipe himself from everyone’s memories because he had some sort of… power, boosting, thing. And he nearly exsanguinated himself doing it.”

“You weren’t there, Guy,” Tora said, wrapping her arms around herself. “There was… there was so much blood.”

“Thought we’d lost Booster, for a second,” Captain Atom agreed. “We thought it was his.”

“Well, to be fair, he had just been beaten up by a middle aged business tycoon,” Beatriz said, but her heart wasn’t in the taunt. 

None of them could really make light of the danger that was Maxwell Lord.

“Talk to Checkmate if you can,” Booster told Beatriz. “But be careful, and don’t use your powers if you can help it. That goes for you, too, Tora. We can’t know that what we’re looking at is real, not with him around. We can’t even assume that we’re actually fighting non-lethally. Max knows exactly how we fight, how to screw with our heads. We… we can’t risk it. We can’t risk anything. Not until we figure out how to know if what we’re fighting is real or not.”

“What are you saying?” Guy demanded. “We just let him walk all over us?”

“He’s got all the advantages,” Booster said. “We… we need to try to take some of those away.” He looked around the room. “And we’re one of his advantages.

The room was smoke filled long before Max and B3 entered it. He took it as a good sign, a sign of dingy secrets thickly hidden behind the classiness of the wall to wall bookshelves and stark soviet architecture surrounding them.

Relatively young money attempting to buy itself the prestige of age and reputation. He knew how to work with that.

Guarded on both sides by burly men in tailored suits, a young woman sat at a chestnut desk, her body decked in authentic furs. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that Max instinctively hated, but at least she had the cheekbones for it. And even the fair skin and two inch nails were hardly distractions from her most striking feature – a left eye sealed in cobalt blue metal. It gleaned at Max as he crossed the room and sat where he was expected.

B3 was reluctant to leave his side, but hung back, hands appropriately folded at her waist as she stood by the door. 

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Miss Kosov,”^[5] he said to the Russian promptly. “I wanted to assure you that I have no intention of wasting your time. I’m sure your family, ah, business will need you to attend to it rather promptly.” 

The young leader of the Odessa crime family did not straighten up or seem impressed by Max. In fact, judging by her sneer, the terrible way things shook out for her in Gotham—sending her straight back to Moscow—had left some significant opinions of all Americans on her.

Max loved his country, but he was also well-read. He knew the type of people he would have to work with for the betterment of all humanity, following in the footsteps of the CIA and NSA before him.

“On with it then,” Alexandra Kosov said, shifting only slightly. “I am, as you said, busy.”

Never one to play coy for long, Max smiled and crossed a leg confidently over his knee. “Very well! Since your family business has come back into the good graces of the scene here in Moscow, there has been a significant move of many native Russian assets into your employ. I am interested in helping to back your continued success here in the motherlands for access to the high tier talent at your disposal.”

Kosovo looked at him suspiciously. “And should I refuse you, Maxwell Lord?”

“Then I go home,” Max said simply. He waited an appropriate beat before tilting his head gently to the side. “Of course, I would be very disappointed and sad to have lost a brilliant opportunity for the both of us.”

Alexandra Kosov rose to her feet and turned from the desk, looking to the bookcase behind her. “I attended Gotham University while in America. You know this.”

Subconsciously, Max glanced at B3 and then back to the mobster before him. “But, of course.”

“Do you consider me an educated woman?” she asked, grabbing a book from the shelf and turning back to face him.

“I have no reason to think you’re not one,” Max countered.

“Then this I ask you,” she said, putting the book in both her hands as she stared at Max head-on. “What is an educated woman to think when a man of your reputation comes to Moscow’s fourth nicest community to ask a favor of a disgraced daughter when so close there is the Kremlin and its officials?” She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Please be brief.”

Max tightened his smile, but resisted the urge to push the conversation along a better avenue. He needed to think of the big picture, form trusted relationships.

“It’s two-fold, if you’ll allow me the time,” he said, waiting for approval to move ahead.

After a moment, Alexandra nodded to do so.

“The Kremlin would be highly reluctant to work with me these days. I am not working with the usual government clearance. Supporting me without them is just a touch too transparent even for the usual games,” Max explained truthfully. “Secondly, the particular assets of yours I am interested in would raise less eyebrows if they came through you. You are a convenient go-between.”

She watched Max carefully before putting the book on her desk. “I know the assets you speak of,” she admitted at last.

“I knew you would,” he chuckled to himself. “So what would it cost me to, say, have Anatoli Knyazev, Isabelle Cheranova, and Marina Maru make contact with my organization?”

Flipping open the book, she checked the index before flipping a few dozen pages at a time. She slowed, then pointed her finger to a ledger hidden among the words. “Fifteen million.”

“Alright, done,” Max answered cheerfully.

“For KGBeast,” she finished. “Shall I continue?”

If Max had ever carried a wallet before, he was certain it would have felt like it was burning. “Certainly,” he said all the same.

Pulling the same trick a second time, Alexandra stopped on a page and read, “One point five million for the spy Echo.”^[6]

“Wonderful,” Max continued, his cheery voice breaking slightly.

Finally after the third time she pulled in the trick, Alexandra looked to Max and said, “Doctor Poison is another ten million.”

“Twenty-six and a half million dollars,” Max breathed sharply through his nose, making sure with himself that his instincts screaming to push the conversation toward his favor hadn’t gotten the better of him. When no blood trickled, he forced a smile and sat forward to offer a handshake. “Tell me how you want this wired to you, Miss Kosov.”

“Certainly,” she smirked back, offering her hand limply. “Perhaps you can have America treat me better the next time I am in need of a business trip.”

Max’s eyes darkened. “I can certainly treat you better should you come work with me again,” he pushed, a small allowable trickle held back by holding his mouth just right.

Tora stood beside Gavril in his military officer uniform and cap. She felt somewhat relieved, strangely, to have a sort of match with him, her own creamy blue dress not clashing so terribly.

Her fingers tested the length of her jacket anxiously before she commented, “I was worried about being underdressed for this.”

Gavril looked at her, eyebrows close together. “How so?”

Before Tora could answer, Beatriz finally caught up with them, her heels clicking ferociously against the tile floors of the Kremlin. “I made sure that our meeting was still happening!” she declared, waving her arms and raising her black suit’s jacket just enough to show the brilliant green silk blouse beneath and some skin. Her matching pinstripe black-and-green pants bellowed out around the beginnings of her heels.

As always, Beatriz da Costa looked as though she was taking over the world one catwalk at a time.

“Thank you!” Tora said genuinely, pulling at her necklace. “I do hope this is okay. I have not even spoken to the prime minister about invoking this privilege…”

“Your family home is a historical monument and a tourist trap,” Bea said with a flip of her wrist. “They’ll find it in their hearts to forgive you, I’m sure.”

Tora smiled softly at the suggestion and nodded once. She still felt so strange when looking at her family and its vast and complicated history. It was so difficult to own it. Even more difficult for her to wield it effectively.

Bea’s attention did not stay with Tora for long, however, instead turning quickly on Gavril. “Should your hat be that far forward?” she asked wryly.

“Why should it not?” he asked, confused.

“I don’t know, won’t you get in trouble with the military if it’s out of place or something?” she asked, less with interest and more going along with her own thoughts. “Maybe you should’ve kept the Rocket Red suit on. That’d probably have gotten us a meeting even quicker.”

Gavril frowned. “You think so?” he did not seem entirely convinced, but he rocked forward on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, maybe, I mean, a soldier alone won’t stand out too much around here, will it?” she continued.

“Bea,” Tora spoke out, more than a little confused herself.

“I shall change it then,” Gavril resolved himself, continuing the momentum he rocked forward with and heading down the hall.

Tora watched after him for a time, then turned and looked at Bea, upset. “Why are you doing that?”

Blinking with surprise, Bea crossed her arms. “Doing what?”

“Picking at him,” Tora answered, holding her purse close. “It is very obvious.”

“I am not.. We all pick at each other, Tora. You know that. Name one time I haven’t picked on someone on a mission or job like this,” Bea scoffed.

“Not like this,” Tora murmured. She thought over Bea’s behavior since the start of the mission, since before they even left the JLI compound. It had been a very specific pattern, and it had felt different from any time before. Tora turned back on Bea, scrutinizing her. “Are you mad at Gavril for something?”

“I’m not mad at all!” Bea declared, rather angrily Tora thought.

“Are you mad at me?” Tora asked, shifting uncomfortably and over examining their interactions for the past day or so. “You sometimes pick on others when you’re actually mad at me.”

“That has never happened,” Bea snapped. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at Gavril. Tora, I’m not mad at anyone except for Max. That’s it.”

Looking down to her feet, Tora took a breath. She knew how to play the game. 

After all, Beatriz was Tora’s absolute best friend. 

“If you were mad,” Tora asked hypothetically, “why would you be?”

Bea clicked her tongue against her teeth and glanced away. “Maybe I just want to make things clear. About where people are. Where we stand. All of us. As friends.”

“Oh, Bea,” Tora sighed.

“Fire! Ice!” Gavril’s voice came booming through a loudspeaker on his suit. He is racing forward, fully suited in a way that certainly felt like it should have taken him more time. “I have contact from ally Leonid Kovar!^[7] A enemy—”

“An,” Bea corrected automatically.

Tora gave her a fierce look.

“—has been spotted preparing to leave country! Stopping her is high priority!” Gavril finished.

“But, our meeting,” Bea attempted to argue.

“Red Star needs help,” Tora said, placing her hands on Bea’s forearm comfortingly. “And if the government needs more convincing about us versus Max, this may do it!”

Smiling, Bea nodded to Tora. “Sure, okay,” she answered before looking back at Gavril. “What is this enemy of the state?”

“Dangerous woman,” Gavril announced. “Doctor Marina Maru. She is known. Doctor Poison.”

Tora and Bea flinched in unison. A villain known for giving Wonder Woman a hard time.^[8]

“Okay,” Bea whistled between her teeth. “This… could be a little tough.”

B3 was looking with great concern at a dossier of Checkmate’s newest acquisitions. Her brows came together as her stare intensified, causing little wrinkles across her forehead.

Max relaxed in the limousine seat, tilting his glass of champagne as he watched her.

He didn’t need the study, he had years of working within the superhero community to back up his instincts when it came to dealing with the characters they were meeting at the runway. But it would be nice to call on B3 to remind him of how much he already knew. 

“Watch it, Agent,” he said somewhat bemused.

Concerned, B3 raised her head quickly to meet Max’s gaze, some strands of her tightly pulled back hair flying loose against her face. “Sir?”

“Focusing on a screen that close will hurt your vision, you’ll need glasses before you know it,” he informed her.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, uh, thank you.” She didn’t sound all that grateful. “I just wanted to be sure about our information before moving forward.”

“Well, we are moving forward,” Max reminded her, reaching into the limo’s cooler to produce a second glass. “We need to celebrate our victories as we get them or else we’ll lose our own heads about it all.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m on the job,” she reminded him. She didn’t seem to be insinuating anything by it, but Max could still hear it. 

After all, he was on the job as well.

“B3, you are positively too rigid,” he laughed, pouring her a glass and then offering it to her unsolicited. “It’s champagne , and you must loosen up some before we reach our new company.”

Looking at the glass like it was a test, B3 tightened her brown and lowered her tablet. After a long moment, her left twitched and she reached for the glass timidly.

“There you go,” Max said, leaving the glass in her hands. The moment his hand was free, he put the champagne bottle back and wiped at his nose with a handkerchief so quickly it was almost unnoticeable. Still, his eyes kept their focus on B3, making certain she not only sipped but took a long drink of her glass.

The limousine began to slightly turn—left, then right—and Max became aware of the slowing of the vehicle. He sat up, looking out the windows to see the private jet they arrived on already out and its stairs lowered.

Three other vehicles were similarly waiting, equal distances away from the limousine: an older model of truck, a small Asian-make car, and a nondescript black four door sedan.

“Prompt,” Max mused, reaching for the door handle and already out the door before B3 had found somewhere to place her half empty glass. “Come on now, B3, can’t keep our new colleagues waiting.”

“S—sorry, sir,” B3 responded, visibly shaken as she glanced at the glass. She then continued out of the vehicle.

The truck’s owner was already out and throwing three large duffle bags from the trunk bed over his shoulder before Max was anywhere close. It was an even more impressive feat considering the stump which ended the man’s arm just below his left elbow.

Max stepped near him, holding out a welcoming hand and a large smile. “Mister Knyazev,” he said warmly, “I must say, I am an admirer of your work.”

“Da,” the KGBeast returned, his intense glare only deepened by the dark shadows cast by his brutish and thick eyebrows. “This is why you pay my price.”

“A technicality more than worth your services,” Max said, finally putting his hand in his pocket where the Russian air could not continue to nip at it. “You will find your specifications have been met both on my air carrier and in your living quarters back in Switzerland.”

“Then I shall do my work,” KGBeast assured him before shouldering forward toward the plane.

Max couldn’t help the momentary scowl that crossed his face as he was passed by KGBeast. He wiped it off quickly when he saw that B3 was studying his expression. He sniffed the air around the truck and let out a sigh.

“B3, see to it that Anatoli Knyazev doesn’t empty our liquor cabinets before the jet takes off,” he ordered her. When he detected even a moment’s hesitation from her, he snapped his fingers. “Now.”

Without any further defiance, B3 took off after the KGBeast.

Taking a moment to breathe, Max considered finding Doctor Maru next. However, his natural psychic instinct directed an unseen approach to him first. 

Searching his mind quickly, Max realized who was standing in front of him. “Isabelle Cheranova, I assume,” he said evenly.

In an instant, the flicker of bluish light gave way to the form of a woman in a tight gray catsuit. She was standing in front of Max, her face overshadowed by a large, toothy grin.

“I have been waiting to have an opportunity to show my skills again,” she said. “The world has not heard the last of Echo.” Her smile dropped momentarily, giving way to a disgruntled expression. “Will I have an opportunity to show myself against the Batman?”

Max smirked. “We have similar concerns when it comes to that particular nighttime menace,” he informed her. “It is good to have you, Echo.”

As he spoke, Max walked his way back and away from the strangely fixated spy. He barely took his eyes off of her and turned away before he ran into the last of the new assets.

Marina Maru stood nearly two heads shorter than Max himself. At first glance, her stature was that of a reserved and folded woman, her hair tightly kept in a bun on the back of her head. But her face was off putting in ways that took a moment to catch up with the mind. Below her left eye began a hollowing out of her cheek and chin, masked only by a porcelain covering which falsely filled the space. 

It took much of Max’s self-control to not give her his full reaction to her appearance.

“Ah, Colonel Maru,” Max laughed uneasily. “It is good to make your acquaintance at long last.”

“Certainly,” her voice said, scratchy and low in unnatural tones. “Are we prepared to leave quickly?”

“Of course,’ he answered, pulling at his tie. “Though, we have plenty of time.”

Her eyes glinted darkly before she walked past him. “Do we, Mister Lord?”

Max glared back after her. Then he looked for whatever complications she was referring to.

Gavril surveyed the scene with a grim eye. 

He had heard, of course, of Dr. Maru. A dangerous woman, by all accounts, but she was no fighter, preferring to use her wit, her poisons, and her connections to play her deadly games.  

She was standing in front of the private plane, already heading up the stairs towards it. Gavril could see no one else nearby, and he landed firmly in the snow. 

“Doctor Maru!” He called. “In the name of the Rocket Red Squadron, I call on you to halt!”

She turned to face him, and he felt the hairs on his neck rise at the cool, dangerous expression she wore, made all the stranger by her mask. 

“Unlikely,” she said, and her arm arched forward. 

“Grenade!” Ice yelled, her hands rising to capture the device in ice, only for a shimmer to appear, slamming into her from one side. 

“We’ve got a bogey!” Beatriz shouted out with the assurance of a trained soldier, fire burning to life in her palms, but not in time to do anything about the grenade, which exploded at Gavril’s feet, sending billows of a thick, acrid smelling yellow smoke into the air. 

Gavril lunged forward, trying to intercept the creature who was attacking Ice, but before he could do so, he saw a dangerously familiar silhouette emerging from the plane. 

“Fire! Contact the League!” He called. “We are dealing with more than Doctor Maru! It is Knyazev!” 

“It is good to see you too, Ivanovich,” the KGBeast snarled. “I have looked forward to this for some time!” 

“Gavril!” Beatriz yelled, but anything further she had to say was lost as Knyazev launched forward and collided with Gavril at full speed. 

It was a surprise, but Gavril was not unfamiliar with combat. Widening his stance, even as he was being shoved back across the pavement of the runway, he was able to slow down the tackle enough to grapple with the bulking man.

Outside of his classic black and red uniform, the infamous KGBeast was still a mountainous man. His muscles rippled and bulged with every defined movement, and his teeth grit out, exposed by his curling lips.

“Big suit!” Knyazev snarled, his natural hand finding purchase on the underside of Gavril’s jetpack. The hook of his prosthetic ground into the side of Gavril’s suit, indenting and puncturing along the way. “Bet it holds little man inside!”

Before Gavril could properly adjust his own grip, he could feel the lurch of his suit’s back, yanking and pulling him backward with the Beast’s direction. Then he was caught, his suit being pulled forward by the hook. The struggle was immense but also horrifyingly short before he heard the tearing of metal and circuits behind him.

HIs jetpack was being torn from his body.

“That is Property of the State!” Gavril snapped before smacking the palm of his left hand onto Knyazev’s chest. 

After rerouting his suit’s energy into his hand cannon, Gavril blasted KGBeast for all he was worth, not even bothering to question whether or not the method was lethal. He was dealing with more machine than man at that point regardless.

With a grunt, KGBeast flew back at the concussive force, landing in the snow just outside the landing strip. His breath collected in hot steam as he gathered his bearings and leapt up to his feet. 

Gavril, catching his own breath still, felt the tiniest prickle down his spine. The realization of things turning ugly quickly. 

“Any ways we can talk about this, comrade?” Gavril offered, somewhat helplessly.

The mercenary exhaled sharply through his wide nose, large blasts of hot steam sent out from them. Then he began to stomp toward Gavril with a wicked grin. 

Letting out a low moan, Gavril got back into a fighting stance. 

The first punch came out of nowhere, and it all only went downhill from there.

Whatever it was that Maru had released into the air, it seemed that it was somehow interfering with Bea’s ability to contact the League. 

Which was bad, because if the KGBeast was present, then things were worse than they expected, and they would probably need backup. 

“Agent da Costa,” a voice said. “Always a pleasure.”

Years of instinct, learned first as a spy before they ever were called for in the name of heroics, cause Bea to throw herself to the ground before the shot was fired. Amateur mistake, speaking before shooting. 

She called her flames forward, clearing up some of the smoke, and her eyes narrowed as she spotted a woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties standing there, in an indescribable skirt suit, holding what looked like a distinctly professional gun. 

In fact, it was a very familiar make and model. 

“Checkmate,” she snarled, getting back up to her feet slowly. 

The woman didn’t even flinch. 

“Tora! Gavril! Max is here!” Bea yells. 

“The Black King is far from here, Agent da Costa,” the woman said, trying to keep her gun on her. She wasn’t a great shot, or particularly confident, but that didn’t make her any less dangerous.  

Beatriz’s eyes narrowed. “I know you,” she said slowly. The woman’s face was partially obscured by the smoke, but the more that her fire burned, the more it cleared, and the more she could see. 

“I doubt it,” the woman said, and then she charged forward. 

The woman was’t a combatant, especially not in close quarters. She had no idea how to fight someone who was literally on fire. Oh, she was probably better than most other people, in that she was trained and knew how to fall and throw a punch, but in terms of Checkmate agents, she shouldn’t be near the field. 

“You’re a codebreaker!” Beatriz said, realization dawning as she grabbed the woman’s arm. Her hands burned right through the fabric of the woman’s suit jacket, and the woman stumbled backwards with a howl of pain. Beatriz let her go, mindful of Booster’s warning. She had to be careful. “One of the... one of the squares.” 

“Impressive,” the woman said, teeth gritting as she clutched her arm. “I didn’t think traitor Knights like you paid attention to those of us below you. You certainly killed enough of us on your rampage through the Castle.”^[9] 

“I didn’t—” Beatriz said hotly, before the woman lunged at her again. Her gun was abandoned on the ground, and she stood no chance, so Bea grabbed her by the arm and slammed her into the snow with ease. 

Why was she out here? Where was Maru? 

All around her, she could hear gunshots and fists and rockets, the strange but familiar hiss of Tora’s ice, the rush of the wind.  

She needed to focus, she needed to move fast. Tora—her team needed her. She couldn’t afford to waste time on inexperienced agents who threw their lot in with Max. 

Inhaling, she carefully started burning away the oxygen closest to the agent. The woman struggled in her grasp, gasping for air, before eventually going slack in her grasp, unconscious. 

After checking the agent’s pulse, Beatriz got to her feet, letting her fire flare up, consuming the last traces of the gas and clearing the air. 

It was time to finish this.

Tora stumbled under the weight of another body crashing into her, just as the gas began to flare up. 

The smell of it was atrocious, but it didn't seem to be immediately harmful, so Tora forced herself to focus instead of the invisible combatant trying to tackle her. 

As the plumes of smoke brushed past Tora, she could faintly make out the gleam of something a few feet in front of her. The gasses bent and shaped awkwardly around the form of something seemingly not there.

“I do not know you,” Tora said, planting her feet firmly and directing her shoulders toward the figure, “But you have made a mistake. This is official Justice League business and you are interfering.”

“Good,” the figure said in a feminine voice, moving out of the plumes of smoke and disappearing into the open air. “That was the idea.”

Considering the direction of the figure’s movement, Tora was quick to find where the figure should be and swayed her shoulders. The movement, simple as it seemed, was enough to direct a gust of freezing northern air into the general direction of her invisible foe. 

There was a grunt of surprise and the sound of skidding feet as a result, but there was a lack of immediate return fire. No meta tricks.

Satisfied, Tora turned her attention toward Gavril and his fight with the KGBeast. “Hold on, Rocket Red!” she called out, pointing her finger tips toward the ground and growing an ice sled beneath her. 

She hardly had time to push herself forward with another wintery gust before she felt a terrible tickling sensation in the front of her mind. 

“What?” Tora uttered, reaching to the side of her forehead with the heel of her palm when a wave of nausea overcame her. It was such a sudden and unnatural sense of vertigo that Tora nearly lost her footing.

“It’s low grade and artificial,” the feminine voice from before said, so close it may even be against Tora’s ear, “But it’s still amazing what telepathy can do to an unsuspecting person.”

Tora kept from falling over only by grinding her feet into the ice. She felt like she was hanging in the air without gravity, and that was before the atrocious smack of a foot landing across her face. 

That time, Tora couldn’t stop from hitting the floor. 

“It helps when your opponents are feeble minded, too,” the invisible foe mocked from above Tora.

Grinding her teeth, Tora felt something within her pry itself free.^[10] Her eyes milked over with surging and terrifying instinct as she held onto her bruised cheek and looked over her shoulder to where her opponent should be standing.

There was an uncomfortable shift in the air and the sound of stepping back. “Uh oh,” the woman said.

“She attempted to remain nice,” the Other warned her combatant, the winter winds pulling her to her feet, her head hanging low below her shoulders as her icy bones got into working order. “She attempted to provide the benefit of doubt.”

The winds congregated around her, whipping up hail and snow around herself and her opponent. Within seconds, the temperature was below freezing, then dipped lower. 

An electric spark flittered out and with a few struggling glitches, the invisible woman became visible against her will—a common sized, though slim, figure in a gray catsuit and goggles. She looked horrified and uncertain as she glanced from her visible arms to the Goddess again and again.

“You like your toys?” The Goddess snapped at the woman. “They’re not useful to you today.” She lowered her shoulders, the winds coming to a calm but present force. “And you will stay there.”

“I’d rather not,” the spy countered.

Biting back on her molars, she glared at the woman before swinging her arm from shoulder to hip. The arc of ice released in the motion fires out, coating the woman from her hips to her feet in a sheet of ice. 

The woman struggled, then looked at Tora. “You really don’t like people messing with your mind, do you?” she grinned, seeming to snatch some small victory in the face of defeat.

The Goddess scowled at her. “You do not like staying quiet, do you? Hush before I freeze you higher up, where your heart will feel the chill.”

After a testing of her encasement, the formerly invisible woman said nothing. Which she took as her own sort of victory.

“‘Feel the chill’?” Bea repeated with a snort. 

The Goddess turned and looked at Tora's friend, glowing in brilliant green. And then, as quickly as she arrived, she retreated now that it was safe. “Bea! Are you alright?”

“It was nothing,” Bea said with a roll of her shoulders. “How’re you, though?”

“I will be fine,” Tora countered, waving to her own opponent. “If you are fine, though, why are we not helping Gavril?”

“You don’t think he’ll be fine, the big lug?” Bea asked, smarmy and confident.

They were still staring at each other when Rocket Red went flying across the asphalt behind Beatriz. 

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Tora sighed.

“I know, JLI classic rules. I should be better about this by now,” Bea groaned before flipping back through the air and taking off toward KGBeast and Rocket Red’s direction.

Tora felt a slight, happy contentment at their strange situation before producing her ice bridge to follow after.

“Damn it,” Max growled into his communicator. “Maru, retreat, we need to leave—”

“In a moment, Mister Lord,” she said. There’s a strange hiss on the other side of the line, and Max freezes. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Ice can be melted, Mister Lord. I shall be able to free Echo momentarily, and we should be able to recover your agent, and then be on the plane within two minutes.” 

“If you and Echo are free, you can—”

“No,” Maru said, irritatingly calm. “You were correct in your initial analysis of the situation. I am not a combatant, I am a scientist. Echo works best when she has the element of surprise, and your agent is incapacitated. We are clearly outnumbered. All we can do at this point is minimize our losses.” 

The hissing sound stopped—a propane torch of some sort. “Echo. Follow me. Grab Agent B3 as you go.” 

Max growled, as he realized that Maru was right. KGBeast was lost to him. 

His League was always full of surprises, he had to admit. 

Maru and Echo appeared in the cabin, dragging with them an unconscious B3. The sleeve of her suit jacket was burned clean through, and the skin beneath it was singed as well. Not as badly as it could have been—Beatriz was careful. No doubt she was under the impression that B3 was under his direct control, and was under the misguided belief that she could “save” her. 

She didn’t know that B3 had volunteered to leap into combat, determined to do her duty to protect him, even though she was not remotely prepared to face off against a metahuman of Beatriz’s caliber. 

He would need to bring Tabu along next time, even though the woman wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. It was nice to see B3’s loyalty laid bare, but there was no need for an encore. 

The pilot took off without having to be told, and Maru settled into the seat across from him, doing his best to be implacable. 

“Your Justice League truly is a fascinating group, Mister Lord,” Maru said, sitting across from him without waiting for an invitation. “I do hope you don’t plan to let them interfere too much in my research.” 

“I assure you, Doctor Maru,” he said, offering her his best, salesman smile. “That’s the last thing we both want.”

“Good,” she said with a curt nod. “Then I’m sure this arrangement shall work very well for the both of us.”

She stood up and went to the other side of the plane, where she settled down with a laptop and an intimidatingly multi-colored spreadsheet. 

A setback indeed, Max thought, looking out the window at the retreating Russian landscape. KGBeast will be sorely missed. 

But at the same time... it had offered him an interesting perspective into his other employees. 

He would overcome this. 

He’d make do.

KGBeast was not a simple opponent, in any sense of the word. 

Gavril had barely been left room to hit back, his arms being busy with blocking the oncoming strikes from the Beast. 

Each hit, even with bare skin, let the KGBeast dent in the Rocket Red suit further. He was bloody knuckled, but the KGBeast’s snarling smile and wild eyes were evidence enough that he wasn’t letting up.

Rerouting his thrusters, Gavril thought fast and jumped up over a kick from his opponent. With the thrusters fuming heat and exhaust from underneath his boots, Gavril turned them upright enough to sear against the Beast’s skin.

He didn’t have lift for long though. While Knyazev let out a roar and turned from the heat, Gavril felt the sputter of his broken jetpack behind him short circuiting from the viciousness of being torn open before.

Faltering, Gavril tried to land before his suit’s levitating capabilities gave out but he missed by a margin. 

And KGBeast had already recovered.

“Enough tricks!” Anatoli Knyazev bellowed, grabbing onto the ankle of Gavril’s boot with his monstrous right hand. 

Putting an Olympic shot put thrower to shame, KGBeast rotated in place, pulling the entirety of Gavril’s body with him. After three complete rotations, Beast slung Gavril across the airfield with an amused roar. 

Cursing under his breath, Gavril considered his options — his jetpack about to blow, his thrusters were cut from power, his suit was jagged and damaged. It wasn’t looking particularly good. 

Then, with a grunt, he felt two arms hook under his own and pull him up into the air away from his downward arc. He didn’t have to look up with the heat warming against the back of his suit, but he did so anyway to look at the brilliant green flames licking behind himself and his savior.

“Good catch, many thanks,” he offered his teammate.

“Hey, what’s a Justice League for if not mildly mitigating situations they may have somewhat escalated?” Beatriz offered cheekily. She glanced down to him, some mild concern leaking through the haze of flame surrounding her. “Are you okay for battle? Ice and I can handle this guy without you.”

Gavril scowled at her. “I have held my own. There is no need for this.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I know that,” she said quickly, her frown growing. “I… I don’t know why I’m doing that, Rocket Red. I trust you.”

Unable to resist, Gavril smiled behind his faceless helmet. There was something warm and comforting to that.

“I have major system failures,” he explained. “But I can punch. And that’s what I wants to do!”

Grinning, Bea took them down toward the ground where KGBeast was squared off with Ice. “Then let’s get some punching done!”

Ice, true to her name, sealed away the whole of their enemy in a sheet of ice, her eyes glowing a fierce white. She seemed content for a moment until the Beast cracked through the ice and roared at them like a triumphant bear. 

“You believe I fear cold!?” Beast snarled as Ice hit the ground. 

“Well, if you can’t take the hint and cool down,” Fire decided, dropping Gavril and then bursting into a brilliant green flare.

Her energy sweltered, building toward her palms before she jettisoned a fireball right for the KGBeast.

Thinking quickly on his feet, the Beast dived forward and escaped the flames, but in his tuck and roll, he aimed his prosthetic hand at them. 

It took Gavril a moment to fully comprehend the threat, but he was in motion before the warning escaped his throat. “Fire! Gun!” 

Beast’s arm fired a round, but Gavril’s bulletproof armor stopped it long before it reached his teammate. He then raced forward. 

They grappled again, the fight back to where it started, but Gavril’s momentum was carrying them this time. With the weight of his suit, he tipped them to land on the Beast’s back. 

A chuckle was all that alerted Gavril to the fact that there is the tip of the prosthetic’s gun pointed at his side exposed from the hook. 

“Rocket!” Ice gasped. 

Just when Gavril was certain nothing could stop the Beast from pulling the trigger, there was a low rumble and a shake in the tarmac. 

All four of them—Leaguers and mercenary—looked up just in time to realize that the jet was taking off. And, most confounding of all, the three other “bogies”, as Beatriz had put it, were nowhere to be seen. 

“That… American bastard!” Anatoli howled, looking after the jet. “I will destroy him—”

“Some other time,” Gavril interrupted, rearing his fist back before connecting it with the Beast’s jaw with all the force he could muster. 

Once he was sure that KGBeast was unconscious, Gavril shakily got to his feet, the weight of his suit making him waver without the support of its electric joints. He nearly stumbled back, but two pairs of hands caught his shoulders.

“Easy there, partner,” Beatriz said warmly. 

“Are you okay in there?” Ice wondered out loud. 

“Yes,” Gavril huffed, achingly reaching up and disconnecting his helmet for some fresh Russian air on his face. He was sweating far more than he cared to admit. “Suit very heavy without, ah, electricity.”

“Oh, my! You have no power?” Bea gasped.

“Knew you needed those muscles for more than show,” Beatriz joked, elbowing his side. She then surveyed the scene, a touch of seriousness across her face. “Well, we missed our meeting with the Kremlin and we failed to help catch Russia’s most wanted super criminal. Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Hm,” Gavril hummed before nodding to Anatoli Knyazev below them. “Settle for number two?”

The girls grinned at him and nodded and, perhaps for the first time, Gavril really felt that he had earned his spot standing among them. There’s a chance he was not forever doomed to being an outsider to the team after all.

Chapter Text

Her name was Beatriz da Costa. 

She was the daughter of a War Criminal,^[1] who she betrayed in the name of duty. 

She was a model, a true celebrity of the 80s and 90s, seen on the glossy covers of magazines all over the world, and later on many a teenage boy’s computer screen, clothed only in flames. 

She was a spy for her country, where she did things that many might look down upon her for. 

She was a Knight for the international organization Checkmate, where she served the Black King Taleb Beni Khalid, who was brutally murdered just a few weeks ago by Maxwell Lord, after framing her for a mental breakdown and manipulating her into attacking the Checkmate Castle, isolating her from her colleagues and friends. 

Her life had not always been easy, and she had gone through many teams, allegiances, and identities over the years. 

But first, and foremost, she was Fire: the Emerald Flame and a member of Justice League International!

Burgeoned by their recent victory in Russia, the League was now convening to figure out what it was that Max wanted with these mercenaries and criminals... and what his plans might be. 

Beatriz raised her eyebrow as she leaned back in the conference chair. There was a little green flame etched into the back of it. She didn’t know if it was a Booster decision or a Bats decision to have their seats basically assigned by virtue of branding. If it was a thoughtful thing, it was Booster. If it was intentional seating to diffuse tensions, it was Batman. 

Guy was at least five seats away from her, between Bats himself and Nate. He had his feet on the table even though Batman had swatted them off once already. If Fire was any closer she’d just sock him.

Who was she kidding? It was definitely Batman who chose the seats.

Batman put down the paper files and looked expectantly at them all. Only Nate had his papers raised up, but they were upside down. None of them had been reading along. Probably because the information was already on the giant screen behind Batman.

“I am familiar with Echo,” Bats concluded.

“Oh, good,” Tora said beside Beatriz, shuffling in her seat. “I was worried she was new and landed a hit on me.”

“She wasn’t that remarkable when I encountered her,” Batman said firmly.

Tora shifted again. “Oh.”

“Well, your masculinity is preserved,” Bea rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, sometimes Batman says villains aren’t tough and they give me a hard time,” Jaime offered comfortingly. “Maybe no one’s tough compared to Batman.”

“We should do a ranked list,” Guy concluded.

Booster grew an inquisitive look at that suggestion. He crossed his hands in front of his face. “Where does Condiment King compare?”

A noisy rumble erupted. 

“This is carrying us further away from our topic,” J’onn sighed tiredly.

“What does Max need with a spy, a super-soldier mercenary, and an evil toxicologist?” Nate asked, finally correcting the direction his files are pointing.

Despite herself, Beatriz glanced toward Booster. She was slightly offended to find him looking right back at her.

Booster’s brows knitted together and he shrugged his shoulders, 

Fire shook her head with enough fervor to bounce her curls around her shoulders before she pointed at him quietly.

He tapped a finger on the files in front of him.

She tapped on her temple.

They continued a stare off before J’onn cleared his throat and drew their attention to the fact that the entirety of the team was staring at them in confusion. 

“Booster, Fire, do you have something to contribute?” J’onn asked calmly.

In unison they answered. “Yes,” Booster said as Beatriz argued “No.”

“Jesus Christ, just say something so we can move on,” Guy groaned impatiently.

Shutting her mouth, Fire crossed her left leg over her right and sat back in her chair with arms folded. She looked at Booster and waited for him to get to digging them out of the hole he provided.

Booster ran a hand down his face and sighed before pushing his files out in front of him. “Okay, I think we’re leaning in way too much on the evil mastermind thing right now and… not looking at this like it’s… Well, like it’s Max.”

The others stared at him. 

“He’s an evil bastard,” Booster emphasized. “But, we’re trying to think of these different people he’s gathering as working together for a single plan, some grand purpose like he was aiming for alone. And that’s not… very Max. He likes to designate duties. He likes to have… a team. Maybe there’s not some big plan because he wants something bigger. He wants multiple plans. And these,” he taps on the folder, “Are JLI two-point-oh. But the only kind of people who will work with him with his baggage. Ones for hire.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Gavril picked up his folder and actually opens it for the first time. 

“Which of us is the Dr. Poison?” He asked curiously.

“It’s not one-to-one,” Booster backtracked slightly. 

“It’s at least an idea,” Batman said decisively. “I don’t know if it fits, and I don’t know how much it will help us act proactively, but it’s at least something.” He paused then seemed distinctly uncomfortable. “Thank you, Booster.”

In shock, the team looked at Batman

“He can say that?” Tora whispers to Beatriz, who was wondering it herself.

Booster looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Uh… you’re welcome? Is that how this goes?”

“Moving on,” Batman continued, mowing over Booster’s words to the future hero’s visible relief. Unfortunately for Beatriz, that brought Batman’s gaze to her. “What was your contribution to that… vaudeville act?”

Blinking in surprise, Beatriz glanced at the pictures in her copy of the files then back to Batman. 

“Honestly?” she said slowly. “I was just pointing out Max tries to not hire under a seven.”

Tora sank in her chair in embarrassment for Bea.

“A seven?” J’onn questioned. “Echo is rated as a three by Intergang.”

“Intergang has a list!?” Booster coughed in surprise. 

“Of criminal terrorists, yes.” J’onn’s eyes hardened. “This is not the type of list being discussed, is it?”

“She’s talking about a hotness scale,” Guy explained, waggling his eyebrows with a wicked grin. “Really? You ranked Dr. Poison over a seven?”

“Don’t underestimate mysterious women with accents,” Bea argued.

A rumble overtook the team again, but this time Batman and J’onn didn't stop it, sinking their heads into their hands instead.

“Ah, Agent B3,” Max said, standing over his assistant, who was getting her arm looked after in the infirmary. 

“Sir,” she says, looking between him and the nurse bandaging her arm nervously. 

“You did an excellent job, B3,” he said. “Considering how little field training you have.” 

“I’m sorry sir,” she said, ducking her head. “Fire recognized me immediately, and she and the Justice League might have been able to deduce your presence because of that. I’ll put in a request for a different type of firearm immediately, and can draw up a list of agents with more field experience to replace me.” 

“Replace you?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why, B3, are you looking to leave?” 

She blinked, confused. “Of course not, sir. But I assumed—” 

“What, that I’d be letting you go for a simple mistake?” He smiled. “You proved your loyalty, B3. But you do have a point. I believe I’ll take that list for field operations. I’ll mostly be here at the Castle though, so that won’t be too much of a problem.” 

“Do you have any specifications in mind, Mr. Lord?” B3 asked. 

She was getting better at her game face. It was cute, the way she hid behind it, that she thought that she could hide anything from him. All it would take was the right pressure, the right words, and she would tell him anything. For all of her pride and stoicism, her mind was weak and malleable. She wouldn’t even resist; she would buckle immediately beneath any pressure he placed on her, and all of her thoughts would rush out of her like a waterfall. 

It was why he liked her, beyond her being easy on the eyes. She was predictable. Easy to control. Eager to please and out of her depth, a dangerous combination that could have easily gotten her killed in Russia, and she knew it. 

He knew it too, which is why he was willing to give this concession. It’d be a pity to lose such a useful, if insignificant, tool so early on in the game. 

“Oh, this time let’s go with a male assistant,” he said. “And don’t limit yourself to the pool of unranked agents. Feel free to look through the pawns as well.” 

“Of course, sir,” she nodded her head. She hadn’t had time to really pull herself together after the fight; her blonde hair was coming undone from its neat bun, and she had ash smudged on her face. 

It would be a fun thing to do later; to get her to let her hair down. To get her to unravel herself. 

A project for the long-term, though. In the meantime, it was time to go deal with other things.

“I’m going to Counter-Intelligence,” he said. “Take the rest of the day to recuperate. I expect you to be back at your desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir,” she said, managing a salute with her off-arm. 

Max stopped by his office to look at his chessboard, all set out. 

He sighed and put aside the rook that was supposed to have been KGBeast, and then, after a pause, picked up the Black Queen. 

He hasn’t been looking to incorporate another leader on his side so soon. He’d thought about Tabu, down the line, perhaps, because of her unshakable loyalty and abilities... 

But Doctor Maru... 

Well. 

That was a thought for later. 

First, he needed someone to play White King, and figure out how he was going to keep his team distracted from his next move long enough for him to set things in motion.

Guy didn’t have much time to dedicate to social media. The name social media made his nose curl — who came up with that anyway? 

The Internet was shockingly easy to come by in the universe, especially with a willpower ring providing access at all times, but Guy couldn’t imagine anything he did being things that could fill a tweeter timeline without being kicked off the platform. 

Not to mention, a new one seemed to come up every five minutes. How could he be expected to follow the trends when he’s well out of his twenties?

It wasn’t like Booster, who seemed to have an innate knowledge of these things.

Coming back through the various corners of the JLI compound, Guy, as always, seemed to find him exactly where he wasn’t wanted  to be. 

Booster sat in a computer chair, hunched over his fancy new touch-screen phone, scrolling through something. The light glows against his face and shoulders as his nose looks like it's inches from him.

Guy stood in silent observance for a moment before asking, “Have you thought about glasses?”

Offended, Booster whirled around in his chair and held a hand to his chest. “Me? Why would I need glasses?”

“Hide your dumb face for one,” Guy countered, crossing the space and snatching Booster’s phone from him. “What’re you looking at?”

“Hey, Guy, ever considered just asking for stuff?” Booster asked sourly. 

“Nope,” Guy returned easily, flicking his thumb against the screen and getting progressively more annoyed as nothing happened. “Your stupid phone is broken.”

“You’re wearing gloves, you luddite,” Booster countered, grabbing the phone back. “And I’m looking at the SuperFails tag on tweeter.”

“Tweeter,” Guy rolled his eyes. “And why? Did Supes get a wedgie or something?”

“No, dumbass, it’s still about us in Zambesi,” Booster huffed. “I’m keeping track of it. You know. What the people are saying about us.”

Sizing Booster up, Guy decided it’s not worth his time to offer a knuckle sandwich in return for the name calling. Maybe another time. Truth be told, he was a little sore from Zambesi and he was willing to bet Booster was, too. 

“I did a full survey around us, there were maybe five people with their phones out when that was happening,” Guy said, frowning. “How the hell is it still trending?”

Booster gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t think people can make gifs if there’s one video? That’s what the internet’s good for. And the shorter it is and more easily compressed the action is, the more mileage it’ll get. I’ve seen the exact same frames of you sucker punching me a thousand times in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Heh,” Guy couldn’t help but grin. “Bet that hurts more than the punch.”

For a moment, Booster hesitated. But then his head raised up and he seemed to be in thought before nodding to himself. “No, actually, this is good. Shit, I bet Rip’s almost got a smile on his face. Maybe. If he does, I’m sure the girls will have it on video.”

Guy looked at Booster in utter confusion. “What? What’re you talking about?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Booster waved Guy off with an easy flip of his wrist. “I’m not worried about my image. I’m worried about how it makes the JLI look. We look like total assholes.”

Tilting his head, Guy waited. “And?”

“And what?” Booster repeated.

“How’s that different from normal?” Guy demanded. “We always are made out to be the assholes over stupid shit. And you know why that is? It’s because when they dig into the substance, when they look at things that actually matter, people realize we’re the best motherfucking team that has ever been called a Justice League. And those tightwads in the space tower acting all high and mighty or braiding each other’s hair  in the capitol with their Halls of Justice can’t stand that they’re shown up by the real best Justice League that’s ever existed.”

Booster looked Guy in the face, lowering his phone and seemed genuinely awestruck. “Holy Batman, Guy. That’s… Yeah. That feels… right. It feels true.”

Smugly, Guy pressed his thumb to his chest. “Of course it does, Booster-o’s! I’m only speaking hard truths. The world hates it, but they ain’t got nothing on us.”

Smirking, Booster looked ready to agree when his phone dinged. They both looked down to the alert as Booster refreshed his tweeter.

“What’s that?” Guy deigned to ask as Booster clicks on a link.

“Oh,” Booster said softly, actually looking concerned. “This isn’t about Zambesi.”

“What’s it about?” Guy asks.

“Uh,” Booster stumbles over his words. “I don’t know. But it says something about, well, you… and it says it’s a callout post. And it’s linking me to rumblr.”

Guy squints. “What’s rumblr?”

CALLOUT POST FOR GUY GARDNER

Like, so I’m glad you guys are having a laugh about that whole #ZambesiGate with Guy Gardner decking Booster Gold and all but like...

You realize the guy’s totally a war criminal, right?^[2]

He’s given multiple explicit interviews where he was waaaay up Reagan’s ass 

Casual homophobia in these interviews (Also, just pointing out, he punched Booster Gold, who pretty much everyone knows is gay, just look at him and Blue Beetle, plus there’s this interview with Lady Godiva where she pretty much confirms it.)

The guy’s invaded multiple sovereign countries over the years, with Zambesi being just the latest in illegal operations on foreign soil. 

Just watch this interview where he talks to Lois Lane! TW for sexual harassment. 

Listen to this interview where Hal Jordan talks about Guy Gardner’s behavior as a Green Lantern: remember, Guy Gardner’s a space cop. 

They’re broken up right now but way back when Ice and Guy Gardner used to be a superhero IT couple and there were a lot of weird rumors about him kidnapping, harassing, and even abusing her. I don’t have a lot of documentation about it, because even though literally every major superhero has said he’s a dick at one point or another, he always gets invited back onto teams, so he obviously has blackmail on somebody. (Probably Batman: I can’t imagine anyone could have anything on Superman.)

In short: fuck Guy Gardner, the U.N. should kick him off the team, tbh.

“This is bullshit!” Guy sputtered, staring up at the image on the screen.

“Technically, you have done most of those things,” Nate pointed out. 

“Okay, first of all, it was the 90s, you had a mullet, you can’t judge me. And we all invaded those countries.” 

“You were kind of ridiculous about Reagan,” Bea said, wiggling her hand back and forth. 

“So was the Flash! Hawkman still is! I’m pretty sure Hal still votes Republican! I was young and stupid, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” 

“No, but we’re enjoying it anyway,” Booster shrugged. 

“What concerns me are the abuse accusations,” J’onn said grimly.

Guy flinched. “I mean, but those are bullshit. No one actually believes those.”

“They aren’t substantiated,” Tora said softly. “It’s the only point on the list where this user doesn’t have an interview or an image or—anything. They’re just quoting rumors.” 

“I think you did try and kidnap her like once,” Karen said, frowning. “But I’m pretty sure it was brainwashing.” 

“I thought it was the rat that reset his personality.”^[3]

There was a long pause.

“I thought that was a concussion?” Booster asked. 

“The rat caused the concussion,” Bea tapped the table, but her expression wasn’t sure. 

“What?” Jaime asked, which... fair. 

“It’s—” They all looked at each other, at a loss how to explain it. 

“Guy went through some things in the 90s and early 2000s,” Booster said. “It’s complicated. And we’ve mostly blocked it out.” 

“It’s for the best,” Tora agreed generously, before a mischievous smile lit up her face. “The only thing Guy did during that era that was worth remembering—”

“Don’t you dare—” Guy said, whirling on her with an expression of pure betrayal. 

“Was get punched—” Booster spoke up, eyes glinting. 

“I will fight you, Gold—” 

“Out by Batman,” Tora finished, propping her cheek up against her hand. “One punch, Ted said.”  

“One punch?” Jaime said, slightly in awe.

“It was,” Batman said, because deep down, the man’s a dick. 

“Black Canary never got over missing it,” Karen shook her head sadly. “Wish I’d been there.” 

“Wow,” Jaime stared at Batman. 

“Listen, like I said, it was the aughts—” 

“Ah, but did you never tell Jaime about the time you finally got your revenge?” J’onn, of all people, was the one to speak up, and Guy blanched. 

“Uh, wait—”

“Nope!” Booster yelped, putting his hands over Jaime’s ears. “We are not discussing the state of Guy’s ass in front of Jaime.” 

“I’m seventeen! And didn’t you just tell me what happened?” Jaime said, batting away Booster’s hands. 

“I hate all of you except Jaime,” Guy declares, throwing an arm over Jaime’s shoulder. “Kid, I think you and I need to go on a solo adventure, ignore these losers—” 

Booster’s phone started to ring. 

Frowning, Booster glanced at it. “It’s not—Oracle?” He answered, frowning as he put her on speaker. “Since when do you call me?” 

“Booster, why exactly is Lady Godiva dedicating a chapter in her tell-all-book to you? What did you do to her?” 

Booster blinked. “What, Lady Godiva? The uh—she had the hair thing, right?” He frowned. “Uh, did I meet her?” He looked at his friends, who all shrugged. 

“Well. The chapter where she talks about you just leaked. And it’s... trending.” 

“So?” Booster said. “I’m trending like once a week. Skeets has won prizes from America’s Funniest Home Videos featuring me face planting into concrete.” 

“This is—you know what, I’ll send it to you and you can read it.” She paused. “Uh, and I think. I think the whole team might want to take a look at this. She says some... things.” 

She hung up, and a moment later, Booster got a ping telling him he had an email. 

“It never rains but it pours, does it?” Tora sighed.

[Transcript excerpt:

You’re a Girl That Could Go Far: Godiva’s Superheroic Tales

Chapter 8]

Had I known that my years doing team grunt work with the Global Guardians would be reflected on as my highpoint, I most likely would have never left greater London.

The heroes who made the ranks of the Global Guardians were never the heroes that were talked about in headlines or even press releases. We were an association of heroes that kept non-American and Russian interests at the forefront of our concerns, which was a noble enough goal. It was completely derailed, however, when the United Nations chose to inexplicably cut a bulk of our funding in order to take advantage of the new Justice League International initiative. 

In the heights of my heroism, funding didn’t matter, though. I was more than content to push an agenda of world peace and negotiations with my colleagues rather than the substantially higher stipend other organizations were offering for glorified mascots. 

I am certain there were other reasons for the likes of Green Flame and Icemaiden to leave the Global Guardians for the JLI^[4] — where spiffier costumes and names quickly greeted them — but I was never privy to those details and it is not my place to speculate now years later. 

As little sanction as the Guardians were given in the aftermath of the JLI formation, one thing I was never without in my years as a hero was access to others. 

There is little said about it these days, but mixers between fully sanctioned teams were the norm during the 90s and 2000s, and everyone from a certain Blue Boy Scout to a salacious Golden-skinned Alien Bombshell could be found at them. 

It was a different time, when even the most powerful among us shed the capes to be a little more human. 

We were young and hopeful, and most of us had lofty ambitions about making the world a better place. Some of us fell prey to baser instincts you would anticipate acting on when you were hormonal and had the powers to do what you wanted. 

Perhaps that is where most of the reputation for the Justice League International fully formed. What amounted to a fraternity house of college-age superheroes with all the powers and access of super-soldiers waiting on the UN to sanction actions in countries that typically didn’t want them around. It was a recipe for disaster, and it attracted the personalities one would expect from that. 

As I hope I’ve made clear, I have never been a member of this organization, but I was close to people who were. Or, rather, I was close to people before they were, and had intimate secrets shared with me in the tumultuous time that came with their membership. 

Being in a time before social media and general social awareness, it should not be surprising that like most teams involving superheroes, the JLI was considered a proven boys club before anything else. From the beginning there were women who were admirable and powerful in their own right—no one can question the strength and prowess of former JSA and JLA chairwoman Black Canary, or the intelligence and motivations of STAR Labs chief scientist Doctor Light—but it’s also worth noting that these competent women never lasted long on the roster. And their continuous rotation through the years did not start until JLI leadership was placed firmly in the hands of Maxwell Lord.

Obviously, it would be improper of me to speak on things I have no personal experience in. But hobnobbing with heroes was practically a full time engagement as a Guardian in these spaces. And it was known that Lord had firm opinions about women, their worth, and their looks. 

I find it interesting, that of the multiple strong and powerful women on the radar of this era, the JLI poached the two teammates from the Global Guardians that it did. Two accomplished runway models in their free time, one who follows relationships and scandal, and one who has long been assumed to have fallen under the spell of the other. 

And if the rumors about Maxwell Lord’s treatment of women were just that, I find it hard to believe that the JLI would have kept a rogue and dangerous agent like their obnoxious Green Lantern. 

It is an open secret in the superhero community that Guy Gardner is an unworkable and dangerous card to have on any team outside of the stringent militaristic Green Lantern Corps, and yet there hardly goes an iteration of the Justice League International without him. Perhaps the types of women they keep will allow that sort of behavior to slide where women like Black Canary, Doctor Light, and the multitudes of others will not. 

The only form of military structure provided in the JLI is what is provided by Captain Atom. A nuclear warhead, unsanctioned, in the United Nation’s own personal superhero team. The moment he came on the scene was the death of the peaceful optimism held by the Global Guardians, though I suppose it is through no fault of his own. We can’t help what we are made of, only what we do with it.

And Captain Atom has a history of explosive choices to judge him for. Not the least of which being his own sordid affair and marriage to a woman known for being an explosives expert and international terrorist. 

The most peculiar of relationships I witnessed came from two of the other men always connected to the team. 

If you have ever needed to sell a pack of gum or a bad idea, it’s fair to say you have considered a used car salesman. In the superhero community, you think of Booster Gold. 

Booster Gold is one of the more charming men I have met in the capes and tights community — a comment that actually means something when you have Dark Knights speaking in gravelly voices and Kings of Underwater Kingdoms proclaiming every possible syllable. So I will say again, Booster Gold is charismatic and tantalizing to be in a room with.  

It’s once you’re alone in a room with him that provides the interesting part, however.

There is a touch of shallowness that comes with being a model. I speak as a former spokesperson myself, it isn’t inherently a negative thing. You can be gifted with good looks and the vapidness to keep them up, which Booster certainly is. 

But as interested as I or many others have been in exploring that, in private Booster is more reserved. About his past (our futures, I must remind you), about his own name, even his true ambitions — he can be very closed lips. 

A man of mystery, of course, is something I’ve always had difficulty resisting. 

I am far from the first person to observe this, but perhaps the first to publish it: if you ever wanted to see Booster Gold at his most truthful self, you needed to be around Blue Beetle. The second one. 

Some of you may remember, from ages ago, there was buzz about myself and Booster Gold in the presses. Some manufactured, some of it slightly exaggerated. But all of it was purposeful. There was a need for some heat to be taken off of the trail of a true story in the JLI, and I am the sort of friend that can be turned to in those instances.

As heated as the kiss and embrace printed on the front of the Interrogator may have been in 2000, and as much as I obviously felt the blush in my cheeks during it, I can’t forget the disappointment and heartbreak when I heard Booster’s first words on the other side of the club door. 

“I think they got that, don’t you?”

Oh, the devastation in my poor heart. 

But I understood more later. At one of those infamous mixers, I approached Gold but not quick enough to distract him from an approach of his own on the dance floor. 

Blue Beetle was a sight at any party — or any event, in all honesty. The truest superhero prankster that had ever existed. And the two of them — Blue and Gold — were fairly inseparable. The moment Gold was in arms reach of him, he hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him in to whisper in his ear. The two were not out of each other’s touch the rest of the night.

I never asked, because it was not something you did ask in the day, but I do find it important to note these things. In the years since Beetle’s untimely death, it has been known that Booster Gold is not the same person. 

It endears me to the old friends I knew, and makes me more compassionate than most whenever there is news of the newest scheme backfiring on the mystery man aging out of all of his comfortable roles in the public eye.

“That’s it, I’m going to kill her,” Bea announced loudly, taking one look at Tora’s face.

She paused, and then looked at Booster, who seemed to be completely unbothered about his own section. “How are you so calm about this?” She demanded. 

He blinked. “About what? It’s trash, sure, but unless she brings in some bigger names than us, this thing’s barely going to be a ripple. She’s trying to resurrect a career, and I mean, it’s really shitty of her, but I don’t think many people are going to believe her badmouthing—”

“What she said!” Bea said. “About you—and—and Ted!” 

Booster’s face went closed so quickly it was as if he slammed a door in her face. “It doesn’t matter, Bea. We can’t respond to this, it just gives it credibility.” 

“He is correct, Beatriz,” J’onn said. “She is baiting you in the press. If you respond, you’ll give credence to her rumors.” 

“She’s been careful,” Batman said, somehow looking angrier than before. “Very little of her accusations can be directly contradicted, and the few instances where we could push back, it would be our word against hers.” 

“I should have set her stupid hair on fire years ago!” Bea snarled, getting to her feet and pacing. 

“Calm down, Fire,” Nate said dismissively. “And besides, it’s not like half of these things aren’t true. You did do pin-up photography on sleezy internet sites.” 

Guy got to his feet and moved to the other side of the room, away from Nate. “Yeah, you shouldn’t have said that,” he called over his shoulder as he beat his retreat. 

“I’m not going to fry him,” Bea said through gritted teeth. “I guess I should expect nothing more from a sanctimonious, uptight—” 

“Whoa, hang on, it’s okay,” Booster grabbed her arm. “Listen. It’s a bunch of garbage, and we’re all on edge. But we took down one of the biggest criminals in Russia, which won us a ton of points with their government. And—” He was clearly struggling to find more things to be positive about. “And we’ve got two more associates of Max’s to keep an eye out for. I say we send Guy out to do some good will work: rescuing puppies or using his ring to clean up a city’s water supply or something, and then social media will calm down, Godiva’s book will flop, and we can focus on what matters.” 

Bea tried to pull away so go after Nate again, and Booster sighed. “And Batman? Do you have a—sexual harassment training course or something that Nate can take? Because Nate. That was inappropriate.” 

Nate looked offended. “You’re taking her side!” 

“You were out of line and you know it,” Booster said. “Guy knew it. Even Godiva probably knew it, because even she didn’t come out and say it, and she used her hair to grope me!” 

“So you did know her,” Tora said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I didn’t remember her name, but yeah,” Booster muttered. “It’s hard to forget prehensile hair trying to get in on the action.” 

“Gross,” Bea said, slowly forcing herself to settle down. 

“I’ll find a course,” Batman said, looking oddly... pleased? 

... oh God. 

Bruce wanted Booster to be running this team. 

This was his plan all along, the bastard.

“See, back in the day—”

“Guy, I was there back in the day,”  Nate reminded him testily, picking up the bulk of supplies off the freighter. “You don’t have to talk about them like this is new information.”

“Back in the day,” Guy continued, his amusement basically radiating off of him as his ring created a construct to carry the remaining food supplies, “I know Bea would have turned you into a melted candy wrapper. Do you know how many of my near-death experiences were her fiery Latin temper?”

Stopping mid-flight, Atom stared at the Green Lantern aghast. “You say stuff like this and Batman is making me take sensitivity training.”

“There’s nothing to be sensitive about, Bea would be glad to talk about maiming me,” Guy concluded with a roll of his shoulders. “It’s the sorta relationship we built up from back in the day.”

“I was there, I know it isn’t, she’d kill you today for a corn chip,” Nate mused. He wished that Fire was here to do just that, because helping Guy perform good will missions fit up there with his own personal hell. “You do know that you’re supposed to refer to her by codenames in the field, right?”

“Which one?” Gardner joked, lowering the packages of food down to the awaiting refugee camp and waving and the children who came running up. 

Atom frowned, looking down as he landed with the foods and noticing the visible scatter of the children. His inhuman appearance lent itself to awkward interactions, he knew that, but he had to believe after the details in Godiva’s book if there is more to the reaction than that. 

“My militarism has approached jingoism in the past,” he admitted reluctantly. “And I suppose there was a difference in… tone between the descriptions of me and the descriptions of Bett— my ex—that is probably an example of sexism. If it weren’t from a book by another woman.”

“Are you shitting me?” Guy snorted. “No one can dish out about women like other women!” 

After a moment of thought, Atom glanced to Guy. “Is that sexism?”

Guy rolled his eyes so hard that he nearly took a step back in the air. “God, is the US Military so behind on this? I feel like the Corps had me trained about this forty times last year.”

That caused Atom to balk. “You’ve had to go through sensitivity training forty times?”

“If you had been around back in the day—”

“Gardner, I’m going to irradiate you.”

“—you’d know I’ve gotten much better,” Guy concluded. He then grew a darkened expression and looked at his ring. A screen projected and pulled up a copy of the transcript in question. His angry wrinkles multiply across his forehead. “The shit I can’t stand by is the stuff it says about Tora. No fucking way anyone can get away with saying stuff like that. Not about her.”

Atom couldn’t help but look at Guy sympathetically. “You and Fire both seem fixated on that point. But Ice seemed fine. She may have taken it even better than Booster.”

“Bullshit,” Guy growled back, looking at the captain. “She’s putting on a good face. She’s being slutshamed for, what? Being associated with us? Because I’m a bad boy and Boost and Ted were circling each other like idiots for years?”

“I think it was because she’s associated with Fire, actually,” Atom pointed out, flying in close enough to scroll Guy’s screen to the exact spot. “See? It only speaks ill of her in reference to Fire.”

Guy’s face curled and he smacked away Atom’s hand and shoulder. “Alright, Cap, back off. We don’t need to be the next Blue and Gold speculation.”

Atom promptly separated, faster than he meant to. Then he thought the fact over. He glanced at Gardner who also had a contemplative and somewhat reluctant look on his face. 

“Were they?” Atom asked.

Automatically, Guy prickled and glanced at Atom almost accusingly. “Were who?” 

“You know,” Atom urged.

“Which ones?” Guy demanded again.

“Just,” Atom vaguely gestured, not sure if the exact duo fully matters. Should it change the answer that much? Why had he not thought about either one before?

“How the hell should I know?” Guy shrugged.

“Well, you were there. Back in the day.”

“Goddammit.”

OKAY I wasn’t going to say anything, but with the new JLI on the books again and on people's minds with #SuperFails and #GuyGardnerIsProblematic... I’ve gotta say my piece. THREAD. (1/

I used to live in Gotham and like, I don’t think a lot of people understand just how DANGEROUS it used to be. Like, it’s bad now. But it was REALLY bad (2/

Back when I was living there. And that’s when the first Robin showed up. And like, look up photos, he was a KID. Not like, Teen Titans or Young Justice (3/

But an actual CHILD, and Batman was there with him the whole time, letting him flash his bare legs, getting SHOT AT? (4/

He used to get kidnapped ALL THE TIME, and still, the next day, he’d be out interacting with ALL SORTS OF PEOPLE (5/

Like, the kid was ALWAYS seen in the red light district, who KNOWS what kind of shit he got exposed to. (6/

And thEN, just as the kid was starting to look like an adult, he DISAPPEARS. And then we have a new Robin, who’s ALSO super young (7/

WHO LOOKS VIRTUALLY IDENTICAL. Look at these photos. It’s creepy as fuck. And we still don’t have ANY confirmation of what happened (8/

To the first Robin; there’s lots of rumors, sure, but given the mortality rate of superheroes, the odds aren’t good. (9/

And the second kid is like. JUST AS ENDANGERED as the first one. Still isn’t wearing pants, like, who even lets a child go out like that (10/

And still! Getting shot at! And then, as pretty much anyone on the East Coast knows, the Joker kills him. We have a flat out answer (11/

The kid was murdered, by one of the most horrific and dangerous serial killers in human history. (12/

(If you’re a Joker fan gtfo, I don’t have time for you guys, anyways.) and like, you’d THINK Batman would have learned his lesson, right? (13/

But NO. That’s when we start getting MULTIPLE sidekicks, all obviously kids. There’s the new Robin, there’s Spoiler, and depending (14/

On who you ask, there’s the new Batgirl? But some people think she’s an adult so not sure there. But we KNOW that Spoiler was a kid... (15/

Because we know EXACTLY who she is. Stephanie Brown, 16 years old when she was brutally tortured and murdered, AFTER she was made Robin (16/

Like yes, there’s people who claim that it was faked, and there’s another girl with that name walking around, but I don’t buy it. It’s some sort of (17/

Thing to stop us from looking at Batman too closely, or blaming him for that mess of a gang war that happened during that whole mess. (18/

Meanwhile there’s this new Robin kid, and he goes missing for a while too, and then a NEW Robin shows up with a NEW costume (19/

AND THEN THE WHOLE SHIT GOES ON FIRE IN GOTHAM, and there’s a NEW, LITERAL CHILD Robin, and he’s CLEARLY traumatized and abused (20/

Lots of superheroes have sidekicks, but Batman’s the most prolific, and his sidekicks ALWAYS start younger than everyone else (21/

AND his kids don’t have superpowers, so they’re just out there getting shot at, and we’ve got AT LEAST TWO who have died because of this. (22/

Like, we give Batman a lot of leeway because “he’s Batman” but this man has blatantly been engaging in CHILD ENDANGERMENT (23/

FOR YEARS, and that’s not even getting into his violent vigilantism, his violation of civil liberties, or his HORRIFIC, ABUSIVE attitude towards his teammates in the Justice League (24/

And to make matters worse, we still don’t KNOW how he finds his Robins. Stephanie Brown was a vigilante beforehand, but the others? (25/

WE DON’T KNOW. Some people think they’re his biological kids, but I kind of doubt that. He doesn’t have the TIME to train (26/

A bunch of kids like the Robins. So where do they come from? WELL. Batman, despite being the “world’s greatest detective (27

Has always been POINTEDLY SILENT and never done ANYTHING about Gotham’s worst-kept secret The Court of Owls. (28/

FOR PEOPLE OUTSIDE OF GOTHAM; The Court is like. The illuminati, but with kidnapped kids and super soldiers. (29/

Given the way that ALL ROBINS LOOK ALIKE, and we NEVER SAW THE SECOND BATGIRL’S FACE... (30/

Talons, the Court’s super-soldiers, are known to be a) pale b) very well trained and c) able to recover from almost ANY injury (31/

It’s NOT ridiculous to suggest that Batman has a deal going with the Court of Owls, where he leaves them alone in exchange (32/

For kidnapped kids to serve as his Robins. (33/

But even WITHOUT that shady aspect of Batman, it’s really clear that Batman has been engaging in child endangerment for YEARS (34/

And now that he’s gone global, we’re about to see him stepping up the endangerment, and also the civil liberties violations. (35/

TLDR: There shouldn’t be a Robin, Batman sucks, #JusticeLeagueInternational #BatmanRetire #CancelBatman (36/36)

“Wow,” Karen said, arms crossed as she broke the silence.

All of them were looking up at the giant screen, watching as Booster’s handy robotic sidekick Skeets scrolled through and projected the various relevant callout threads and trending outcries of the public.

Tora rubbed at her shoulder awkwardly, looking up at Batman’s stoic face as he also looked at the screen on the wall. 

She felt so bad for him, for the torrid of emotions he must have been feeling, but she also wasn’t sure if her assumptions were correct. Sometimes, Batman’s mask covered more than just his face.

“All of this is ridiculous,” Bea declared, steam hissing off of her shoulders. 

“What is untrue and exaggerated shall pass,” J’onn announced calmly to them all.

There was an uneasiness in the air as they all fell silent. It was hard to argue pure facts and logic with the Martian Manhunter of all heroes. No one was bold enough to try in the room currently, save for one.

“I hate the internet,” Batman declared thinly.

Despite herself, Tora giggled with barely enough time to cover her mouth when she began to do so. It was just such an outrageous moment that could only happen with them, she believed.

A prickling sensation overcame Tora and she looked over to meet Beatriz’s gaze as the other woman had apparently been staring at her for a decent length of time. 

Confused, Tora tilted her head and blinked at Bea’s concentrated stare.

Bea then looked off and marched out of the door of the conference room, not getting the attention of anyone else as they stared at the internet’s raging sea of commentary. She didn’t slam the door, which was a good sign usually, but Tora followed with caution all the same.

“Bea,” Tora said hurriedly, taking long strides to keep up with her friend. “Didn’t you hear what they said in there? We did so good in Russia! Booster was bragging about it.”

“And you don’t care about what that witch is saying about you?” Bea nearly exploded to get out of her system. She stomped her foot down as she came to an abrupt stop and glared at Tora. “You’re not upset about what is being said about us?”

Tora frowned, slowing to a stop on her own. “Of course I care,” Tora said softly. “Those were hurtful things being said, how could I not care?”

“But you can be quiet and take it because you know the big bad Brazilian will flip her lid and make it all go away,” Bea snapped coldly. “Same as she always does.”

Tora was shocked, but hardened her look. Before Beatriz could back away, Tora grabbed Bea by the wrists and held them in place. “What is making you say such awful things?” Tora asked.

“The fact that you never say them,” Bea ground out, almost painfully. “The fact that you will let them fester and hurt rather than deal with them. So I have to. Or else they never get talked about.”

Closing her eyes, Tora took a deep breath. Patience, calm. 

“I have always held inside of me things I thought were ugly and cruel,” Tora admitted. “It makes it hard to see if they really are that way or not.” She opened her eyes and looked into the brilliant green flames dancing in Bea’s gaze. “Old magic and inner dragons gave me a bad habit, Beatriz, but I am not scared to give you the truth. Or just be me.”

Bea looked desperate as she flipped her wrists over and held Tora’s hands back. “Then, please, say something that makes me feel like I’m not a terrible person for wanting to fly off to London right now and set Godiva’s extensions on fire.”

Taking a moment, Tora gathered herself, drawing circles into Beatriz’s wrist with her thumbs as she waited. 

Then, Tora released a breath and said, “She’s kind of a bitch.”

Staring at Tora in disbelief, Bea’s mouth opened and shut several times. Gasping like a fish. Then, finally, she threw her head back and let out a high pitched laugh. It was so honest, and healthy, that it even got a laugh out of Tora.

“You looked like you were getting your teeth pulled,” Bea declared, pulling one hand free so she could wipe at her eyes. “Oh good lord, Tora.”

“I am very mad at her,” Tora pressed earnestly. “We weren’t teammates with her for long, and I don’t know if we were close, but I thought that meant more.”

“Apparently not,” Bea scoffed. 

“But,” Tora began.

Bea sighed, lowering her head in anticipation.

“Maybe there is more than we know,” Tora reminded her. “Godiva has not been a hero for a long time. Maybe she thinks this will help her.”

“As if,” Bea shook her head.

“Do you remember why she’s not been a hero for a long time?” Tora continued, once again rubbing little circles into Bea’s skin. “She was attacked, a-assaulted. Her power was taken from her, all that hair pulled out of her head and sold to the highest bidder. After all the years she spent helping people. That was no way to be treated.”

“The way she’s treating us is no way to be treated,” Bea countered, but the heat was finally leaving her voice.

“No,” Tora said. “I am so angry at how she is treating you, even if she’s hurting deep down herself.”

Bea looked up, a peculiar look on her face. “Treating me?” Bea asked. “She’s not saying anything that hasn’t been said about me before.”

“I know,” Tora said softly. “I’m angry about all of them, too.”

They looked at each other for a long, happy moment. A mutual moment. Then Beatriz dipped forward, pressing their torsos together with her head falling just beneath Tora’s chin. 

Smiling softly, Tora wrapped her arms around Bea’s shoulders and breathed her in. If she could, she would hold Beatriz there forever and protect her from the scowls and judgments raging toward all of them that day. Even if she didn’t have to, Tora wanted to.

The others, too, of course. She supposed.

“Here are the dossiers on the agents you asked for, sir,” Agent B3 said. They were still in print—Max’s first move at Checkmate was to order them to go back to paper as much as possible. Barbara Gordon was too much of a risk to keep anything online. Old school was, in many ways, better. It meant they had to physically infiltrate a place in order to get their hands on anything, and once they were there... well. 

It was a lot easier to take care of things, that way. 

“Anything else?” Max said, opening the first folder and immediately rejecting the agent in question—too short.

“Guy Gardner and Captain Atom are currently bringing food and medicine to a refugee camp. No sign of the rest of the League, Intelligence thinks they’re hunkering down.” 

“Why?” Max said, pausing over the dossier of a handsome, blond agent. 

“Um, well, the Justice League was trending on Tweeter, sir.” 

“... why?”

She looked very uncomfortable. “Ah, Cancel Batman was trending. Sir. So was Cancel Guy Gardner. And Super Fails again; someone dug out one of those Greatest Hits compilations of Booster Gold crashing into billboards and set it to Staying Alive.” 

Max stared at her. 

“What the fuck is cancelling?” 

“Oh, um. It means that... people are, angry? At them? Uh, they’ve found a bunch of Guy Gardner’s old interviews from the late 90s and early 2000s, and are taking clips from them to prove that he doesn’t treat women well.” 

Max raised his eyes, fascinated. He missed so much by dying. Damn Wonder Woman. “And Batman?” 

“They’re accusing him of child endangerment. And possibly... being part of the Illuminati?” She shuffled through her files. “And then some superhero named Lady Godiva is publishing a tell-all book, and she leaked a chapter to the press where she... ah, well, she strongly implies that Fire and Ice slept their way into the Justice League, that Booster Gold was in love with Blue Beetle, and reminded everyone that Captain Atom married Plastique.” 

Max tilted his chair back, thinking. 

“Nothing on Martian Manhunter? Or Power Girl?”

“No, sir.” She bit her lip. “To be honest, sir, no one really knows Martian Manhunter well enough to speculate about him in this way. Every superhero knows that he’s the key to getting onto basically any superhero team, not even Godiva is going to even imply anything about him.” 

“And Power Girl?” Max said, raising his eyebrow. 

“A Kryptonian, sir. Unless you’re Lex Luthor, it’s not fashionable to dislike Kryptonians,” she said promptly. “Superman standing next to you and calling you his cousin is pretty much the best PR that anyone can ask for. He’s shielded a lot of superheroes from fallout in the past.” 

“That he has,” Max mused, taking a cigar out of his pocket and rolling it between his fingers. “Get me my old friend at—oh, what did Lex rename the network, I forget.^[5] It used to be some animal. Get me Charlie there. He owes me a few favors.”

“Sir?” 

“I think I know what’s going to keep them distracted while I get my visa to Khandaq^[6] in order,” Max said, grinning. 

Really, the internet was an amazing place.

Jack Ryder had his hair slicked back and his tie perfectly straight as he sat on the television set of nearly every American over the age of forty-five. His teeth were perfectly white point pointy and dangerous. 

He had the most watched cable television network in the country, by far, and his fierce demeanor and devil may care approach to certain journalistic ethics had gotten him to that point. 

Love him, or hate him, Jack Ryder made the news everyday nearly as much as he broke it.

On the chyron below him, the lead to the upcoming story came up just as Ryder’s producer began whispering feverishly in his ear. 

It wasn’t in Ryder’s prepared notes, he’d have to vamp a bit to get his teeth sunk into the hook. So he raised two fingers to the camera and leaned his earpiece toward the camera as his free hand tapped on it. It was an overdone cliché, but his audience ate it up.

“Hold on just a moment, folks, we have breaking news here,” he informed the public. His sharply manicured eyebrows raised dramatically as he grew a wolfish grin. 

“Well, well,” he chuckled, sitting back up in his seat. “We’ve discussed many times on this program before the overwhelming concern of no accountability with our caped crusaders. We’ve also touched on how that has translated to our culture as a country at large. Now even migrants seem to be fully comfortable with their status as illegal in a country that once touted itself as a country adherent to law and order. 

“As frightening as these concepts have been on their own to many of you in my audience, the truth is we have finally entered a stage in our politics where certain leaders, like the brave Senator Rohan from Texas, has taken these issues not only head-on, but in conjunction.” Ryder smiled and tilted his head toward his good side. “I am receiving information from very well placed sources in Washington that a congressional investigation will be used for the good of the country for once. 

“In a press junket at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow, Senator Rohan will explain his plans to open a hearing on the question of legal status for alien migrants hiding behind dual identities here in America. The most prominent, of course, being that of the ominous Martian Manhunter and questionable Power Girl, whose wild claims range from other worldly origins to dimensional dysphoria.”

Ryder brought his hands close to his chest and looked sympathetically to the audience at home. “I will, of course, be following this story as it develops and making sure to ask the real hard questions that you at home care about most. We can’t continue our trek to making this country stand for what it once did in its golden years, if we don’t defend it from those who come here uninvited and with possible hostile intentions.

“That’s all the time we have for tonight, I’m afraid. We’ll cover more stories on the show tomorrow. God bless America. And remember. Think of the children.”

They all looked at each other. 

“Yeah, okay, now we might have to do something,” Booster said, sounding faintly strangled as he stared at the screen. “Because this. This is Max.”

“You think?” Karen snapped. If she had an ounce less self-control, her eyes probably would be glowing, and either Booster wouldn’t have a head, or they would be down a TV monitor. 

“I am... not sure I am understanding?” Gavril said, frowning. “You and J’onn have lived here for many years. What do they hope to gain?” 

Jaime spoke up. “Well, a lot of people get mad about paperwork, when it comes to immigration. Although, to be fair, they usually don’t care when...” He stops, looking guiltily at J’onn. “When they’re white?” 

Karen muttered darkly. “There isn’t exactly an immigration office for Krypton, how the fuck am I supposed to arrive legally?” 

“It’s... well, it’s honestly pretty arbitrary, Gavril,” Booster said with a shrug. “There’s kind of been... I don’t know, a kind of unspoken agreement, for superheroes? We don’t exactly have formal diplomatic relationships or embassies or treaties with most planets, so it’s been kind of a... legal gray area for a while. No one’s really been willing to push it, because, well. Everyone knows that if you start pushing out the aliens...”

“You push out Superman,” Batman was frowning more than usual. “And most politicians, even if they don’t trust him, don’t exactly want him to end up taking advantage of numerous very public citizenship offers from other countries.” 

“They want him here, where they can keep an eye on him.” 

“Well, then, can’t Superman speak out?” 

Karen grew pale. “That—he’s busy. It might be... he can’t get involved. Not in this.”^[7]

“Busy?” Gavril said, incredulous. “He’s Superman.” 

“Trust her on this one,” Booster said, firmly, even as his own eyes widened in realization. 

“Well, what about ah, Superboy? Or Supergirl?” 

Karen shakes her head. “Have you met Kon? He’s a great kid, but he’s not exactly got a head for politics.” 

“He’s also, what, eighteen? And then things might get turned into a conversation about cloning, and we don’t need that sort of conversation happening too.” 

“Kara?” Bea says, “She’s... twenty-something, right?” 

“I don’t want to drag her into this,” Karen says, blankly. “She’s still adjusting to Earth, she might legally be an adult, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to deal with... politics.”^[8]

“Michael. Karen. J’onn. A word,” Batman announced, fury coiled tightly through his voice. 

The four of them were pulled into a side room, and Booster held up a hand, while he pressed buttons on his suit. “White noise generator,” he said, when Karen shook her head quickly, as if trying to shake something off. “Just—just in case.”  

“He knows,” Karen said, blank with terror. “He knows about Lois, he knows about the baby—” 

Booster ran his hands through his hair. “She’s what, three months along by now?” 

Karen blinked, and focused on him. “Wait, you know?” 

Booster gave her a helpless look. “I, uh. It’s a long story?” 

“Enough,” Bruce said sharply. “We need to warn Clark that Max knows. We can’t risk anyone looking too closely at what’s happening: it’s going to be hard enough to cover his paternity leave without anyone having more of the puzzle pieces.” 

“He planned this, the bastard,” Karen snarled. “He knows Kal can’t come out and defend us right now, because he needs to make sure no one’s looking at his timeline and figuring out about Smallville, which means—”

“We are going to be on our own,” J’onn said, grimly. “This is going to take time to get sorted—I expect you and I will be subpoenaed, Karen.” 

“Not on your own,” Booster was thoughtful. “Superman might not be able to help, but you guys aren’t the only aliens who will probably be freaked out by this. I’d imagine Hawkman, headline speaker at the Republican National Convention, might have some words to say about him and Hawkwoman being declared illegal aliens.” He nodded, getting more confident as he went. “And the Titans will probably rally around Starfire; she gets great press. If we can get her to show up with a crown on her head and to tell the exiled royalty story, they’ll eat it up with a spoon.” He caught J’onn’s look. “What? Americans love royalty, it’s just how it is.” He shrugged. “It’s not a lot, but it’s definitely something.” 

“I don’t even know how to contact Starfire,” Karen pointed out. 

“That’s the easy part,” Bruce said. “I’ll ask Dick.” 

“What, are they back together?” Karen asked, curious despite herself. 

Bruce gave her a look and moved on right past the prurient gossip. “J’onn, you should contact Carter. He’s under the impression you’re non-partisan, he’ll take it better from you than from anyone else.”

“Why is Max doing this?” Karen rubbed her forehead. “It’s—the internet stuff, that’s mostly harmless to us, even if it will hurt other people, but what—”

“He’s distracting us,” Bruce growled. “But it’s a distraction we can’t afford to ignore.” 

“But that raises the question, what’s his other move?” Booster said, eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not sure,” J’onn said, grim. “But we must be prepared to move.”

Chapter Text

She had two names: Ice. Tora Olafsdotter.

Throughout the ages, actually, she’s had more than the two. Ice Maiden. Ice Queen. Goddess. Princess. 

She was a model hero. When she wasn’t being either a model period or a hero period, that is. 

Should one examine her history, her actions, her relationships, they would come to the conclusion that her history was multiple choice. That even Tora herself was uncertain of who or what she is. 

The one place where her past had not mattered, where her actions—heroic or model—were taken for what they were, had been with the team where she made her own name: the Justice League International. 

These days, with a new charter, however, even the JLI seemed to be full of questions about past accomplishments being put into question. 

With questions of integrity brought about every day, perhaps it was well past time for Tora Olafsdotter to figure out just who she was!

She looked curiously at the bag, then picked up a second and compared the two. To the untrained eye, they may both be tan crossbody bags with simple line cuts, but Tora knew that they could make all the difference to a designer line looking for the new face of their seasonal line.

Her tongue poked out slightly from her lips as she drew her brows in tightly in concentration. 

All of that concentration went directly out of the window when she noticed someone walking past her door and that person was unmistakably reflecting the light from the hall.

Dropping her bags, Tora ran to her door and slid into the hallway. “Booster!” she called frantically.

Surprised, Booster turned around and looked Tora’s way. “What? What?” He asked, clearly concerned.

Running over on her bare feet, Tora grabbed onto his wrist and jerked him toward her in the hallway. “Tell me what the team is doing right now!” she pleaded.

Booster squinted, his blue eyes so clear with his goggles pushed up messily into his hair. “I don’t know what you mean. What are we doing? We’re, uh, what does Batman call it, data analysis? Something.”

“That’s what Batman and J’onn are doing,” Tora huffed, still holding tightly onto Booster’s wrist. “What’s the rest of the team doing?”

“I don’t know, Tora. Karen is working with Jaime on rehearsing questions from the congressional hearing. Bea is meeting with some former contacts,” Booster listed off before growing stiff. “Why? You mean me? What am I doing? I’m not sitting around or anything! I’ve got stuff!”

“No, I’m not trying to cause problems,” Tora sighed, releasing Booster’s hand at last and throwing her own head back with a groan. “I was hoping one of those things were something I can help with.”

Looking mildly concerned, Booster stepped closer. “Why? What’s up? I thought Bea said you had something to do today.” 

Tora chewed on her lip and timidly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I do. Beatriz still had our old agent’s phone number and they were able to get me a shoot for some demo reels.”

A softness came to Booster’s face at the news and he smiled at her earnestly. “Wow, Tora, that’s great!”

“The last time I modeled for anything was a literal lifetime ago,” Tora argued gently. “My instincts are all wrong for it. I might make a fool of myself, and then Beatriz will look like she has bad judgment for going out on a limb for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Booster scoffed, clapping a firm and warm hand onto Tora’s shoulder. “Listen, there’s no going out on a limb for a gorgeous supermodel who has been proven in the past. And that’s before even factoring in that it’s you we’re talking about here.”

Huffing slightly, Tora lowered her gaze. She couldn’t meet Booster’s face when he was complimenting her. He was too genuine, and it felt like it would burn right through her icy self.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Besides,” Booster fortunately continued without provocation, “If you’re uncomfortable modeling, then you don’t have to. It’s not the only job out there. Anybody would be lucky to have you working with them on anything. And I mean that. You bring such a spirit to any team you’re a part of.”

“Thank you,” she finally said meekly. “But, Booster, you must know it’s hard to do things other than modeling and commercials.”

“I occasionally get a job outside of those,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “You wouldn’t believe the things I do at my other job.”

Curious, Tora raised her chin and her eyebrow at her old friend. “Oh? What other job?”

Clamming up, Booster stiffened and took a step back from her. He coughed into his fist. “Well, you see—” 

He didn’t get far, his wristband lighting up with an unusual tune playing. It took a moment for Tora to catch on that it’s an electronic version of Back to the Future which made her cover her mouth and giggle.

“Oh, wonderful timing, Rip,” Booster muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing a few buttons to get the song to stop. “Tora, I’ve gotta take this in, uh, the conference room. And, seriously, if you want to do something other than modeling, I’m sure Nate or Gavril would love to help you make a resume!” He was already speed walking down the hall as he looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Is Guy still around?” Tora asked innocently.

“Yes. NO! If Bea asks, I said no! Don’t ask Guy for help! Okay, bye!” he yelled before taking a turn and vanishing from sight.

Rip Hunter’s secret time lab in Arizona wasn’t exactly the coziest place in the world, but it was definitely one of Booster’s favorites. 

“Michael!” Michelle, his twin sister, greeted him. The sight of her still could take away his breath at times. Years—nearly a whole decade—of thinking she was dead,^[1] of mourning her, of missing her didn’t fade away, not even after these few precious years since Rip had saved her, had brought her back to him.^[2] 

He wrapped her in an embrace, the kind he once might have been too ashamed to do, but now, his sister was one of the only people in the world who truly understood him, who knew every facet of his life, and he would never stop being grateful that he had this, has his family, in this small, tiny corner of the southwestern United States. 

“Mikey!” Rani yelled, practically giddy. He squashed down a familiar rush of guilt; he tried to spend as much time here as he can, but dealing with the fallout of Zambesi had taken up more hours than he’d wanted, and he’d ended up sleeping at Headquarters, rather than in his own room here, where Rani could easily find him when she had nightmares. 

Rani was eight years old, and one of the bravest people Booster knew. The sole survivor of a massacre far in the future,^[3] she had plenty to have nightmares about, plenty of reasons to never want to leave the safety of the Time Lab ever again. But she was stubborn and sweet in ways that Booster never could predict. Whether it was drawing butterflies on the chalkboards that Rip used to speculate about events in the time stream, or stealing a time machine to go back in time in a misguided attempt to serve as verbal birth control on Maxwell Lord’s mother, Rani had never allowed her fear to stop her from doing anything. 

“Rani!” Booster called, dropping Michelle, who laughed as he snagged Rani out of her leap and twirled her around. 

“It is good to see you, Rani,” Skeets said, always polite, if sounding a little miffed at being ignored. 

Michelle laughed, and pressed a kiss against Skeet’s chassis. “You call, Skeets. But someone else doesn’t.”

“I do try to remind him,” Skeets fussed, but there was an unmistakable undertone of pleasure in his electronic voice. Years with Booster and multiple upgrades, had transformed Skeets into one of the most, well, human robots in existence, as far as Booster’s concerned. 

“Sorry,” Booster said, finally setting Rani down. “Things got busy—”

“You were trending!” Rani said. “Boppy helped me make gifs to put on Rumblr!” 

“Did they have my face on them?” Booster asked, resigned. 

For the safety of the time stream, Booster’s reputation needed to remain a punchline. He accomplished nothing, according to every history book, and this meant that no one knew to target him or his family. He did a lot of the work himself, hiring goons with loose lips to commit robberies that he could stop in a sick parody of what Max himself had done years ago and self-destructing live on television before faking his own death. 

But every now and then, it helped to make sure that the world never stopped to remember whenever he did something competent, like help Superman and Hal Jordan fish Batman out of the time stream or become the leader of a version of the Justice League. 

Being a meme always helped, even if it might bruise his ego in the short term.

“Uh-huh!” Rani said. “Making funny faces!” 

Booster paused. “Wait, do you have a Rumblr? I’m pretty sure you’re too young to have one of those.”

“Don’t worry, Booster,” Rip Hunter, the Time Master himself, called from his blackboard. “I posted them to an account run by a colleague of mine.” 

“Mysterious,” Booster said, walking over to Rip. 

The Time Master’s blackboard was always a mishmash of equations, half-finished sentences which Booster has no context for, and names. Always, always, names. Planets and people, countries and dimensions, some familiar, others complete strangers. 

This time, the words EARTH 2 were written in huge, chalk letters, circled many times over. Arrows led to it, carrying with them a complicated looking equation, the words “DAILY STAR”, “LOIS LANE IS THE KEY,” and “WASH YOUR HANDS.”

“I feel like this isn’t the first time that Lois has been the key,” Booster said, putting his hands on his hips. 

“What can I say, she’s important,” Rip shrugged. 

“And pregnant,” Booster pointed out. 

Rip’s mouth twists down into a frown. “Jonathan Lane Kent,” he said. “I suppose we are about due.”

“Well, Lois isn’t due for a few months yet,” Booster joked, unable to help himself. 

Rip’s sigh was long-suffering. “Anyways. Earth-Two is one of the most important in the multiverse.”

Booster tilted his head to one side. “That’s the one where Karen’s from, right? The one that got—that Superman. The older one.” 

“That’s right,” Rip nodded, but he was frowning. “It’s weird that we’re getting a temporal anomaly from there; it’s one of the most stable worlds that I know of.”

“Well, they just lost their Superman, right?”^[4] Booster pointed out. “That usually throws things out of whack for a while.”

“Isn’t that years ago, now?” Michelle asked. 

Rip considered Booster’s point, then shook his head. “I can’t imagine so; Michelle’s right, they move at the same pace as we do, time-wise.”

“Then why do we need to get involved? Don’t they have their own Booster Gold and Rip Hunter to fix things?”

Rip sighed. “No. That world is... things are different, there. There’s no speed force, for starters, which always makes time travel more difficult. As far as I can tell, for some reason, I was never born on Earth-Two, and so I never invented proper time travel in a capsule. So you—”

“Never went back in time,” Booster finished, wincing. “Damn. Alright, guess it’s up to us then.”

“We’ve finished the calculations for the dimensional travel,” Michelle said, pointing to a series of chalk scribbles, half in Rip’s handwriting, half in Rani’s. “You should be good to go.”

“Great,” Booster gave a thumbs up. “So, unidentified anomaly, no word on what’s causing it?”

“Just another Wednesday,” Rip agreed wryly. “Michelle, you want to go too?”

“I’m good here,” Michelle said, looking pointedly at Rani, who looked an inch away from asking if she could come too, even though she was strictly banned from the timestream except in emergencies until she’s forty, after the whole “Bubble Girl” incident. 

(Booster fully expects he’d crack by the time she was twelve, but for now, he was holding firm, and so was Rip.) 

“Well then,” Booster said, moving towards the teleport pad. “I do always look good in vintage.”

Much more comfortable now that her form fitting outfit had been exchanged for a large, wooly sweatshirt over a simple pair of jeans, Tora stood outside of the familiar door. From the scaffold, she could see out into the hanger and how it led into the living accommodations for the League. Bruce had surely spared no expense on them, but the true sign of preplanning was in placing Gavril, Guy, and Nate’s bedrooms closely attached to the open space. 

The three members most likely in need of a blowout wall for their rooms. Very crafty, Batman. 

She wasn’t wearing shoes but instead red socks to match her sweatshirt. Tora looked at her toes, curling them inward and twisting back out with a distinct lack of confidence. Her fingers twisted over the edge of her clipboard as she held it against her thighs. 

Then, after glancing at the lantern etched into the door one last time, she predictably got cold feet.

Tora slid a door over and knocked on the door beside Guy Gardner’s—one with a familiar atomic insignia instead.

It took a few long moments of Tora second guessing herself before the door at last slid open and a very surprised looking Nate arrived at the door. His metallic sheen seemed almost too intense for a few blinding moments.

“Tora?” he asked in confusion. 

“Nathaniel,” she answered back with a timid smile and a hand in her hair. “I am, um, putting together a job resume. Would, um, it’s okay if you don’t want to. But if—if you wanted to, you could help me put it together? I’ve, um, never had one before.”

The captain stared at her at a loss for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at something unseen in his room. “Ah, well. My room is… not completely safe for people with a low tolerance for nuclear fallout.”

“Oh,” was all Tora could manage to get out.

“But, if you don’t mind doing it in the commissary, I can meet you there in a few minutes,” he offered instead.

“Oh. Oh! Yes, that would be lovely!” Tora clapped her hands together in delight. “I appreciate this, Nate, thank you.”

“Sure, it’s no problem,” Nate said, a gentle expression folding out in his sharpened inhuman features. “Just give me a minute.”

He shut his door and Tora pushed her free hand into her jumper pocket, the other holding her clipboard and papers to her side. She felt accomplished as she turned on her heels and headed from the scaffolding to the stairs leading down into the living areas of their strange base. She hummed an old lullaby along her way with a skip in her step. 

The commissary was like an old fashioned diner met the S.S. Enterprise, with its booths and counter fashioned in sleek chrome and easily cleaned solid tiles. It reminded Tora of predictions of the future from her childhood, like the Jetsons or Lost in Space.

Fortunately, for its aesthetic strangeness, either Batman or Booster had known how to properly stock the kitchen with amenities that the various members of the JLI cared about. 

If she still had intentions of a photo shoot later, Tora may have reprimanded herself for her weaknesses. Things as they were, however, she gravitated toward the smoothie machine and happily made a tangerine concoction before grabbing a Toblerone. 

She sat at a booth with her clipboard, her snack, and her smoothie, feeling like she was turning over a fresh new leaf by the time Nate walked in with his stiff shoulders and stern face. He was also wearing a pair of tiny looking reading glasses on his metal face that wobbled as he moved, threatening to fall out with every movement.

He was also carrying a laptop with a strange fruit on it. 

“What’s that for?” Tora asked curiously, snapping off a piece of her candy.

“Ah, so I see we’re at that stage of job searching,” Nate declared before sitting across from Tora. He pulled open the laptop and looked down his nose at the device. “Almost all job applications are online now.”

Tora blinked before glancing down at her clipboard and paper. “Oh. I got a template from online. I didn’t realize I needed to also fill it out online.” It made sense in a way. So much sense that heat began to rise to her face in embarrassment. “How long has it been this way?”

She didn’t bother mentioning the unspoken before or after I died.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure,” Nate admitted. He looks over his laptop at her. “I haven’t really needed to bother trying myself before. We’re long past my days of being able to peel the suit off or paint over it with human features.”

It was beginning to feel like dragging Nate into her sorry excuse of a midlife crisis was a poor idea from the start. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Nate replied with a shrug. “What websites are you thinking of trying?”

“Hm,” Tora hummed back, putting her chin in her hands and leaning against the table. “What ones are there?”

“I guess it depends on the type of job you’re looking for,” he said, adjusting his glasses to prevent them from sliding off his nose. “Fortunately with the teleporters here you’re not necessarily limited by location. But if you’d like to be close to base, I suppose you’d have to look around Perth.” He hesitated. “If you have a work visa, of course.”

“I do,” she said sheepishly. before tilting back against her booth seat. “Um, for America.”

“Okay,” Nate tilted his head. “So if you want an American job, we’ll have to stick to what’s cleared by your visa. How specific is it?”

Tora turned her head, burying her eyes into the heels of her hands. “Modeling and acting.”

“Do you want to do that?” Nate asked, sounding hopeful.

“No,” she moaned.

“Okay,” he said, a little more uneasily. “Well, the widest range of jobs you can be cleared for will be the EU then. That’s still a lot of places.”

“I have connections in London,” Tora looked up from her hands. She could feel the spark of hope it sends surging through her. 

“Well that’s a start,” Nate offered, putting a hand over hers and patting her skin with his cold metallic hand. “You’ll be just fine. I think it was a great thing that you want to branch out and do more outside of just the League. We’ll just need to go over your employment history. Do you have any references?”

Tora felt her stomach plunge. She felt tears coming down her cheeks. She pulled her hands away to roughly rub at them. “You don’t understand!” she cried. “I don’t have any history! I don’t want to branch out, Nate! I have to! On paper, I’ve… I’ve wasted one life already, and here I’ve got a second one… and—and it might be too late for me to do anything with it either!”

The captain looked genuinely shocked by the emotional outburst and was glancing around them as if seeking out help.

There wasn’t any help, and as Tora buried her face into the table’s surface and sobbed, she hardly took notice of the increasingly brutal winter winds that erupted as a result.

“Uh, here,” Nate offered before, to Tora’s shock, a piece of Toblerone was shoved into her mouth. 

She blinked in confusion and sat back up, snow and debris no longer blowing around her as she looked at Nate.

When Booster got to the point that Rip would let him take point on missions, he had to sit through what felt like a million talks and warnings about things to look out for. It was emotionally draining to consider just how much responsibility was resting squarely on his shoulders. 

One of the things Rip neglected to give him a talk about, however, was the dangers of finally getting comfortable with his role.

“Okay,” Booster said, stepping through the opening of the transporter and into the space opened up to him in Earth-Two. He looked over his shoulder expectantly as Skeets hovered on through as well. “So, let’s check on the Trinity’s status first and then we can feel out from there.”

“The Trinity, sir?” Skeets prodped.

Listing off on his fingers, Booster enlightened the robot, “Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman. Whenever we’re dealing with these multiverses, I can usually sort them based on big changes to those three. Things kind of cascade based on their statuses.”

“An astute observation, sir, but isn’t Earth-Two remarkable for its similarities to our own universe?”

“Give or take a few generations, yeah,” Booster rolled his shoulders with a shrug. “Here, the Three are World War Two heroes who kept operating through to the eighties, when their children took over the mantles and started the original Infinity Inc.”

“Similar to the original Justice Society of America in our own timeline,” Skeets dipped in the air like an acknowledging nod. “As you said, this is where Power Girl originally comes from.^[5] Could it be that her disappearance from this universe could be the source of disruption?”

Booster considered it for a moment, but he could feel a faint pit of concern. “No, surely not. She’s built an important place in our universe, and it’s been years since the original Crisis where she got shuffled in with us. If that was a source of instability, it wouldn’t cause his recent problem.”

He hoped not, at least. Karen had been in the JLI since its first roster expansion, had a part to play in three major Crises, and would legitimately break Booster in half for suggesting she needed to leave her company and the life she made for herself for the sake of the multiverse. 

On a personal note, Booster was terrible at missions that involved bad outcomes for his few real friends. On a business note, Booster couldn’t imagine the headache of threading a needle requiring the removal of Power Girl in one universe for the benefit of another. He’d have to find a way to double up people in every Crisis to cover for Karen, and he wasn’t even sure he could conceptualize that. 

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there,” Booster decided with a heavy sigh. He looked around the space they were occupying and realized that, in Rip’s eternally terrible sense of humor, they were in a superhero museum display. “Okay, asshole, I get it,” he grumbled, looking down at his plain clothes and realizing that, with the addition of the cap Rip had handed him on the way, he was a dead ringer for an 1980s night watchman. “Skeets, can you light up the way as I walk around my post here and get a feel for what’s the superhero history now?”

“Absolutely,” Skeets answered, his frontal display lighting up and projecting a flashlight beam ahead of him.

“Awesome,” Booster said, cracking his knuckles before walking along with Skeets toward the start of the museum. He points to the large display letters above the entrance. “Golden Age of Heroes, Skeets. Just like I said, a Trinity and JSA that comes from the so-called Greatest Generation. It’s going to be… to be…”

They slowed to a stop in front of the first display, one with a giant Wonder Woman holding an Air Force pilot bridal style, his mask still on, covering his identity. Behind her was a mural and display of a confusing and hectic scene that was not what Booster was expecting from the Golden Age of heroes. 

“I believe this is a display portraying Wonder Woman’s first appearance in this universe,” Skeets concluded before tilting in Booster’s direction. “Which here says it is the Vietnam War.”

“Yeah,” Booster said, walking along to the next display and seeing more of the altered history. He put a hand on his mouth and considered things carefully. “Okay. So things have shuffled forward. That… might actually not be the worst thing. This has happened before, things move forward as our universe keeps steady and other timestreams have to keep up to be relevant.”

He wasn’t entirely certain it was that simple, but he knew for a fact that Earth-Two did this when the 52 universes emerged. He still had the mental image of Karen’s friends looking like they came out of a punk scene in Manchester^[6] running around in his head.

Looking at Skeets, Booster began moving before he explained himself. “Let’s fast forward to the current displays. We need to see what the current situation is and whether or not it’s something to fix.”

“Considering we are here on a mission, I assume the answer to that is yes, ” Skeets determined. 

Booster wasn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he got it in the display room titled The Future.

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the syllables as he took in the display. He pointed at the Black Superman wearing light blue and white. “Who is this?”

“Superman,” Skeets answered simply.

“Don’t make me update you,” Booster threatened.

“In this universe, the current Superman is the last full-blooded Kryptonian in known history, Val-Zod, son of the infamous General Dru-Zod. He appeared in the tumultuous year after Superman’s death and the disappearance of Power Girl,” Skeets informed him.

Squinting, Booster considered the information. “That’s… Interesting? I mean. Did Earth-Two get a Zod Superman because our universe had a Zod Superboy? Is that how that works?”

“You said yourself, sir, that the multiverse does not require one-to-one comparisons,” Skeets reminded him.

“It’s still interesting, though, Skeets, you’ve gotta give me at least that.” Booster shrugged and looked at the display. He pointed at the Wonder Woman wax model. “Okay, blonde Wonder Woman, red and gold motif, that must be Cassandra Sandsmark.”^[7]

“Actually, sir, I believe this is Hippolyta Trevor.^[8] Queen Diana’s daughter with Colonel Steve Trevor,” Skeets notes. 

“Okay, good for Di and Steve, I guess,” Booster said as he scratched his chin. “And the Batman hiding in the corner all in shadow?” For emphasis, he pointed to the macabre figure stalking in the corner of the display, with red eyes and a distinct cape and pointy ears. Hidden in shadows and painted black to avoid committing to details that may be wrong. “That doesn’t look like Dick Grayson’s style.”

“It is not Dick Grayson,” Skeets agreed. 

That was both surprising and not surprising. In the Earth-Two Booster knew, after Batman’s death his mantle was taken up by his adopted son and biological daughter, Dick Grayson and Helena Wayne. He’d had many conversations about the latter with Karen over the years. They were close.

Neither became Batman, but if the current universe’s changes had influenced Earth-Two enough to give them the child of Zod as Superman, Booster had to think that Dick Grayson taking up Batman’s mantle could come true, too.

“The Batman of Earth-2 is actually Helena Wayne, the daughter of Batman and Catwoman,” Skeets answers.

Booster blinked, realizing the simplicity of the answer that he never even considered. “Alright, Skeets, pencil in time later today for examining my personal biases.”

“Your schedule is filled for this week, so it is officially on your business calendar for next Tuesday. Between looking at schools for Rani and anticipating the next step for Max Lord.”

“Ugh, Earth-Two doesn’t have a Maxwell Lord, so they have that going for them,” Booster sighed and crossed his arms. “Okay, but how much of any of this is adjustments that the universe needs to make, and where are the parts that I need to step in?” He thought for a moment, then glanced at Skeets. “Scan through recent news articles for anything that’s contradicting this museum’s displays.”

With a mechanical hum, Skeets complied. He bobbed in the air a couple of times before an exclamation point lit up across his display. “I do not believe that the current Wonder Woman should be leading the Female Furies.”

“That is a good assumption, buddy,” Booster said, clapping his hands together. “Okay, find out how long that’s been going on and take us to the beginning.”

It did not take Skeets long to adjust the search and plug back into the Time Lab transporter. Tilting, the bot pointed into the open space and a portal opened for them again.

“Okay, let’s save Wonder Woman! Who is Wonder Woman’s daughter!” Booster declared, beginning to walk forward when a gust of air nearly knocked him and Skeets both back. His eyes nearly crossed in surprise, but he caught a glimpse of the black-and-blue blur that raced into the portal before them.

“Oof!” Booster coughed as he landed on the ground and looked up. 

“Sir!” Skeets called, lowering beside him. “Something has jumped in the portal ahead of us.”

“Rip’s going to kill me,” Booster groaned, throwing his head back. “I didn’t even check if we were alone — fuck, fuck fuck!” Using his flight ring, Booster leaps into the air and rushes into the portal. “Okay, let’s save Wonder Woman and stop whatever the hell just happened from making things worse!”

“Should we message Doctor Hunter about this?” Skeets asked, keeping up with Booster.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Booster nearly squeaked.

“What happened here?” Guy said, and Tora wanted to curl up into a ball and just pretend she was a rock, or something similarly small, that didn’t have emotions or embarrassing power breakdowns. 

“Nothing,” Nate answered, just a little too quickly. 

Guy squinted at them both suspiciously. “Is that... a laptop?” 

Tora sighed, and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m job-hunting, Guy.” 

Once, there’d probably have been ridicule, bravado, maybe some flirtation to that. Guy offering to “look after her” or telling her she was too pretty for a job. 

But maybe, despite everything, Guy’s softened just a little, while still being... Guy. 

“Didn’t Fire help you get a gig—”

“I don’t... I don’t think I want to be a model,” Tora said. 

Guy looked like he’s trying to figure out how to respond to that, when she heard Bea. 

“Tora? What’s happened? The temperature just dropped —” She entered the room, and her eyes narrowed. “Were you crying?”

Tora could see Guy and Nate panic, and so she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind.

“We were talking about if Booster was in love with Ted.” 

“Oh,” said Bea, obviously thrown off. “Well, yes. Obviously.”

“There’s no obviously about it,” Guy says. “He told me he was straight!” 

“Guy, full offense, but most people wouldn’t have come out to you in the 90s. Or the 2000s. Or now, for that matter.” Bea said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Hey!” Guy paused, then shrugged. “I mean, fine, I guess.”

“He did marry that woman,” Nate offered. “Gladys, or something.”^[9]

Tora choked in her smoothie. “HE DID WHAT.”

“Is everything okay?” Karen said, poking her head in, concerned, Jaime behind her, holding notecards. 

“Oh yeah, we’re just gossiping about Booster,” Guy said, who seemed to have latched onto this distraction topic with far too much glee.

“What about him?” Karen asked, tilting her head. 

“Well, right now, we’re gossiping about the time he married an eccentric, elderly millionaire named Gladys and was her official—” Guy looked at Jaime, and changed his track so quickly that Tora blinked. “Uh, trophy husband.” 

Tora and Jaime’s jaws dropped. “He did what?” 

“Oh yeah, Ted was pissed,” Guy said fondly. 

“Wait, so it’s true? Ted and Booster—”

“Yes,” Bea said. 

“No,” Karen said at the same time. She held up her hands when Bea turned her glare towards her. “Listen, I’m not saying Booster didn’t... have feelings, but you’ve met Ted, right?” 

“Booster’s not gay,” Guy argued. “Listen, I’ve had friends who are trying to... compensate, y’know? Booster’s genuinely into girls. Believe me.” 

Tora stared at him. “Are you and Booster... doing locker room talk?” 

“What? No, we just talk over beers sometimes. We all know who really does locker room talk with Booster—”

“Say one more word and I’ll set you on fire,” Bea said, dangerously sweet. 

“Couldn’t Booster be bisexual?” Nate asked, tilting his head to one side. 

They all stopped in their tracks. 

“Are you legally allowed to know that word?” Guy said. 

Nate looked offended. “I know things!” 

“Nate, you’re one of the most aggressively heterosexual people I know, and we’re in a room with Guy Gardner,” Karen said. 

“You married a supervillain,” Bea pointed. 

“She was immune to explosions!” Nate defended himself, before freezing as he realized Jaime is still in the room.

“Oh my God,” Jaime said, his eyes bugging out. 

It was too late, however, the damage was done, and Guy was practically on the floor laughing. “Kinky,” he gasped out. 

Tora gasped, and darted to her feet to cover Jaime’s ears. 

“Guys, I’m seventeen, not twelve!” Jaime said, batting her away. “I know what sex is.” 

“Wait, what’s sex-ed like at your school?” Bea frowned. “Huntress is a teacher, she’s got books somewhere—”

“I am leaving now!” Jaime yelped, the scarab armor wrapping around him before he made a run for the teleporter. 

As the teenager departed, they all looked at each other. 

“So. Bi? Gay? Straight? Which one is it?” Nate asked. 

Tora sighed. “I’ll get the betting book.”

The moment Booster landed on the molten rock, he pulled up his forcefield and took note of the power levels of his suit. There was a real risk of heat damage, and even with his field the air was sweltering hot. 

“Well, I’m not the most experienced person when it comes to Apokolips,” he said testily before looking up to the horrifyingly dense and macabre landscape, “But I’ve heard enough from Scott and Barda over the years to recognize it on sight.”

“While this Apokolips is similar to that of the Fourth World found in our timeline, there are not many records for its history on the Earth-Two timeline,” Skeets noted loudly. “In fact, based on the Kirby Effect literature Doctor Hunter had me download from the twenty-seventh century, there is debate on whether it should be differentiated between universes at all.”

“Bleh,” Booster uttered, sticking out his tongue. “That’s too granular. If it’s our universe’s Apokolips or not, it’s probably a bad thing that it’s kidnapping Amazonian princesses to brainwash and take over worlds with. So let’s just stop that from happening.”

“And find your mysterious stowaway,” Skeets reminded him.

“No mystery there!” Booster claimed, walking forward through the barren city street before pointing to the shadows between two sharp and twisted buildings. “They’re keeping an eye on us from right there. Probably because they had no fucking clue what to do once they realized where our portal was leading them to. Right?”

Two red eyes began to glow from the shadows as a figure shifted in an uncanny mirror of the wax figure Batman they had just left. 

“Hey, it’s cool!” Booster threw up his hands defensively. “You don’t know me, and your universe is apparently not blessed by having one of me, but I’m a superhero from Earth, uh, whatever nickname Rip gave us. Prime? One? New? You?” He shook his head. “Actually, it doesn’t matter that much. Point is, I’m Booster Gold. I lead a—I mean the—Justice League. I’m a friend of Kara Zor-L. Power Girl? You’re, uh,” he licked his lips, uncertain of what were the right lines to push, “Friend?”

The red glow disappeared and the figure shifted closer. 

“You know, I’m actually like BFFs with the Batman of my universe,” Booster continued, inching closer. “One of them, anyway. We could work together on this. I’m sure you came along because you have some incredible need to handle things by yourself. Well that’s great! Very Batman of you! And working with me is awesome because I can’t take credit for anything good we do, so your loner status is never questioned.” He waited, uncomfortable with the silence before offering two thumbs up. “What do you say, Batman?”

“I’m not Batman,” the shadow snapped, finally moving forward, hovering in the air far above Booster. She was in a tight black leotard that is nearly the inverse of Karen’s original white Power Girl suit, though she had an almost tutu-like red skirt. Where Karen’s cape was red, this young girl’s was blue, and where Karen had questionable design decisions, there was a large, red S. Her hair was as black as her suit, cut to a cute pixie style save for the curls around her ears and the nape of her neck. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at Booster. “I’m Supergirl.”

Booster squinted. “Huh,” he said. “I guess it makes sense. If they get a Zod kid and a new Batman to match us, then Clark and Lois would have a kid—”

The girl’s purple eyes widened and she immediately zipped down right in front of Booster’s face with a hungry expression. “You knew my parents?”

Taking a step back away from the child, Booster shook his head. “Kind of. Not really. I’m from another universe.”

“One where my cousin is living,” the girl’s eyes flickered with excitement. “So you come from somewhere where all my family is alive?”

Slowly, Booster came to himself. He clapped his hands together before his nose and thought about the circumstances before meeting the young girl’s gaze. She couldn’t be more than twelve. And she was a superhero.

“You’re the daughter of Lois Lane and Kal-L of Earth-Two,” he concluded quietly. He lowered his hands and looked at her mournfully. “I am sorry about what happened to your parents. They were wonderful people.” Then, remembering Karen, he gasped. “Oh my god, Karen should be your guardian! Or something! Do you have anyone taking care of you? You can’t, or else they’d definitely not be cool with a child this young wearing a cape and running off to Apokolips with a universal stranger!”

“I have a family!” she snapped. “Um, kind of.” She flew back awkwardly until she was masked in shadows again. “Aunt Helena is teaching me everything I need to know.”

Booster grimaced. “Oh, a Kryptonian raised by a Bat. That’s a recipe for great things,” he said before glancing at Skeets who had been uncharacteristically quiet. “You good there, Skeets?”

“I am waiting for introductions to conclude so that I can provide the map I just processed that will take us to where Steppenwolf is currently holding Hippolyta Trevor prisoner and attempting to turn her into a new commander of Darkseid’s army.”

“Polly!” Supergirl gasped.

His own eyes widening, Booster kicked off the ground and floated with his flight ring. “Okay, well none of that sounds good so let’s stop it. And, kid,” he said, glancing at Supergirl, “You picked a hell of a time to have your first superhero adventure. So stick with me and try not to get captured and turned into a Female Fury yourself while we’re at it, okay?” 

Supergirl vibrated with energy. “If you say so… um, what was your name?”

“Booster Gold,” he said, unable to resist the wink and gun fingers. “Don’t forget it.”

“Wow, that’s so lame, how could I?” She snorted before flying ahead.

Waiting for her to be further away, Booster looked dully at Skeets. “Teenagers,” he grumbled to his companion before following suit. “Not looking forward to those years with Rani, Skeets! I’ll tell you that!”

“Okay but when was the last time that Booster really dated someone?” Bea said, leaning forward. With Jaime absent, any and all pretensions of them getting any work done for the rest of the day had disappeared, and, in a rare correct grasp of the situation, Guy had produced beer, and proper beer at that, good German stuff that Tora always had a fondness for, and some Brazilian stuff that Bea always pretended that she didn’t secretly crave. 

Guy Gardner might not always have been the best... anything, but he was good at remembering people’s beer preferences. 

“Didn’t you and him have a thing?” Guy asked Karen, who was sipping one of Tora’s German beers on the grounds that they were the strongest, even though it was virtually impossible for her to get drunk on human alcohol. “I remember he gave an interview, but he was flapping his gums a lot in that one, so I know it was probably bullshit.” 

“It was,” Karen snorted. “We went to Dinah and Ollie’s wedding together, I don’t think we’d seen each other since the Crisis, when he gave that interview.” 

At the mention of the Crisis, the good mood nearly vanished, before Nate, of all people, rallied. “Well I mean, that rumblr post seemed very convinced he was gay.” 

Bea groaned. “Nate, that’s Rumblr. They think any two moderately attractive white guys standing next to each other are secretly in love.” 

“Rumblr thinks you and Hal Jordan are having a years-long love affair,” Karen confirmed, her eyes sparkling. 

Guy choked on his beer. “What?” 

“Google it,” Karen said, and Tora reached for her phone to do just that when Nate grabbed her wrist.

“No really,” he said, urgently. “Don’t.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What have you seen?” 

“I’ve had to sit in on Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Investigations. You won’t believe the sort of porn that’s out there.” 

“Listen!” Guy yelled, still caught in his own crisis. “If I was gay, first of all, there’d be nothing wrong with that, and secondly, I could do better than Hal Jordan!” 

“Maybe,” Bea said, grinning widely. “But how much better?” 

“I think we’re getting distracted here,” Karen pointed out, leaning forward. “Nate. Who was the internet writing porn about with you?” 

“No one!” Nate yelped. If someone made of metal could blush, he would be. “But I—saw things. During hearings.” 

“You can’t just leave us like that,” Bea said, eyes alight. “What kind of things?”

Nate looked around, found no pity, only burning curiosity, and covered his face with his hands, and groaned. “Lantern construct tentacles.” 

They all turned to look at Guy, who just raised one eyebrow. “What? You think no one’s tried that before?”

“Wait, have you —” Nate started to ask, before Tora stuffed a piece of Toblerone in his mouth. 

“So we can’t take Rumblr seriously about Booster!” She practically yelled, blushing furiously. 

“And that still doesn’t tell us when he last had a date,” Karen said.

“Are we counting you and him going to the wedding together or not?” Tora asked. 

“That was as friends!” 

Bea threw aside her bottle, nearly missing the recycling bin before Guy redirected it with a glowing green hand. It was her... third? Fourth? Tora looked down at her own beer in surprise, and realized it’s her own fourth.

“I think—we need data!” Bea declared, like a proper spy.

Guy and Tora cheered. Nate and Karen, who were definitely still sober, exchanged exasperated looks.

Creeping through Darkseid’s personal orphanage and prisons was not what led to normal conversation, but Booster had to admit to himself that he was not a normal person. Not since the moment he stepped in a time machine to set a course toward his own fame and glory. Arguably not since before even that. 

Still, he hoped his neutral expression would keep up in the heat of Apokolips and the heat of interrogation by a preteen Kryptonian.

“So you’re friends with my dad in another world?” The girl asked cheerfully. She was flying at his speed, upside down and with her hands crossed behind her head. She wasn’t much like any Supergirl he’d encountered before—sharp and fierce, casual and confident. He could clearly see the influence of both of her parents.

Booster pulled at his collar. “Wow, is it getting hotter in this hellhole?” he asked.

“Language, sir,” Skeets reprimanded quickly.

“What about my mom?” The girl moved on. “I don’t hear as much about her. When you deal with superhero types all day, they’ve all got some Superman stories, but…”

“And that’s a crying shame,” Booster loosened up. He was much more comfortable on the current subject. “Lois Lane is, by far, one of the most unique and amazing women in history. She isn’t just a reporter, she’s a bludgeon to any lies obfuscating the truth for the people.”

Supergirl’s purple eyes shimmered, enraptured by this knowledge. “Wow,” she gasped. Her gaze momentarily looks forward, checking their surroundings with a soft glow of x-ray vision. “What about my cousin? I never got to meet her. Aunt Helena talks about her all the time, but I think she’s biased in a way. I know Kara went missing before I was ever born but the details are fuzzy.”

“She’s an amazing person,” Booster said, motioning for Supergirl to halt as he landed on the ground. He checked his suit power and decided to tough the heat just to be cautious. “I’ve known her for as long as I’ve been a hero, almost. She’s been one of the League’s powerhouses and became chairwoman of the Justice Society of America. Youngest ever. That means something.” He didn’t mention that Karen could have been fifty and probably still have been the youngest chairperson for the JSA. Best not to get caught up on details when talking up a longtime friend. “Actually, when we were all much younger, she was a little bit like you. Fiery and finding a way to be where she’s needed without being asked.”

Supergirl floated behind Booster a few steps before landing on her feet, too. “If that’s true, why are you here instead of her?”

“I’m here because I like getting in the thick of things that aren’t really my business,” Booster answered swiftly with a twist of his wrist. 

At that, Supergirl’s face scrunched up. It wasn’t sitting right with her, she didn’t have the history of growing up in a world where his face is plastered on everything to make a quick buck and his blow ups get coverage in things like Super Beat. He hoped she could let it go.

It was not like it mattered too much in a world where he wasn’t going to be around for more than the off mission like today. 

He stopped at a corner and covered his mouth with a single finger as he looked at Supergirl. Then he leaned closer to the corner, glancing in as the grunts and snarls echoed against the metallic building.

“You may not know this yet,” a large, bulking creature grins over a slab, his horned head looking like a crown worn by the devil, “But you are the beginning of a new era, Hippolyta Trevor.”

“I am Wonder Woman,” the woman strapped to the slab roared, her muscles bulging as she pulled futilely against her restraints. Her teeth gnashed as her dark eyes angrily followed the circling giant. 

“Wrong,” Steppenwolf chuckled darkly, stopping in front of the slab. “You shall be my Fury.”

With an angry huff, Supergirl raised her fists and began to move forward. Fortunately, she didn’t take off with gusto as Booster was able to reach over and intercept, putting his hands on her shoulders and shaking his head at her knowingly. 

She seemed upset by the intrusion, but lowered again, watching again with Booster as the New God terror left the room, having set some mechanical device down over Wonder Woman’s head. 

The restrained woman tensed, flexed, and screamed under the device as sparks flew from it and fluids of worrying colors and consistencies flowed into the device and out. 

“Okay, now,” Booster said, running ahead and looking around the room for levers or buttons that look significant enough to be of use. “Skeets, figure out what that thing is and how we’re supposed to get it off of Wonder Woman quickly but safely!”

“I’m gonna smash it!” Supergirl exclaimed, floating over the device.

“No! We don’t know what it’s doing to her,” Booster argued, turning from the wall of control panels to give the young Supergirl a look at how serious he was being. He looked at the wires and fluids and then recalled the red eyes glowing at him earlier. “You know how to control your heat vision, yeah?”

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Yeah?”

He pointed at the wires and tubes. “Cut through all that, it’ll at least buy us time!”

Supergirl followed his point and then nodded before lighting up the device with a clean, laser-like slice of her heat vision. The tubes and wires gave way immediately, but the thick mechanical arm caught in the crossfire seemed to hold steady. For a moment.

With a loud, troublesome creek, the metal began to give way and the heavy metallic device began to fall over Wonder Woman. 

“Whoa!” Booster yelled in surprise, aiming out his gauntlets to project the forcefield around the tortuous device. Immediately, he felt the struggle of the weight of the object. “Agh, okay. Okay! Ugh. Supergirl, get—get her bindings loose. She was struggling, so not… strength alone! So. Superspeed push buttons, pull levers—whatever it takes! Okay?”

“Oh! On it!” Supergirl shouted before zipping around the room with a speed to make the Flash envious. 

“Cir-L?” Wonder Woman croaked weakly from under the buzzing of Booster’s shield. “Is that you?”

“Don’t worry, Polly! I’m on it!” Supergirl called over her shoulder, finally pulling something that randomly released a hiss from the slab. “Booster Gold! That worked!”

“Awesome, kid,” Booster gritted out. “H—how about lifting—lifting up on the—”

The words barely escaped Booter’s mouth when a gigantic arm burst through the wall of electronics next to him and slammed down on his body like he was a bug to squash. He barely had time to redirect the field more to his own body and the snap of his face on the floor sent him into a dizzying quiet. 

He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Bruce frowned at the energy readings from the screen. 

“We know where Max has made his headquarters,” J’onn said, crossing his arms. “He has made no secret of occupying the Checkmate castle, even though he has yet to fill his chessboard.” 

“We have to assume that’s one of his goals,” Bruce tapped his fingers on the counter, a tick that few people were trusted enough to see. In a corner of the screen, hundreds of profiles of supervillains, assassins, mercenaries, and general sources of danger flickered, trying to figure out if Maxwell Lord had managed to make contact with any of them. 

“Where is Booster?” J’onn said, frowning. “His insight into Max’s recruitment strategy would be useful.” 

“He had something else to deal with.”

J’onn rubbed his temples. “He is time traveling again,” he said, tiredly. 

Bruce didn’t react. 

“I am not a fool, Batman,” J’onn pointed out. “I have examined my memories quite closely since remembering Max Lord again. Booster came back to our days with the League the first time around. He was older, and I noticed even then. I have not discussed this with him, but I can surmise. He was looking for evidence about Max, because none of us were listening to him.”

“Technically, I was dead.”

“Technically, as you put it, you were lost in time.”^[10] 

Neither of them are particularly inclined towards humor normally, but there was something about this League that brought it out in both of them. It wasn’t something that J’onn dwelled on often, beyond knowing that it was a part of his deep seated fondness for this team. That around them, there was no need for mystique or stoicism, that they would not judge him for his slips or his jokes. 

Below, he heard something heavy being knocked over. 

And, of course, there was also the downside of this team. Which was that the same bright and radiant personalities often clashed with each other. 

He and Batman looked at each other, and descended to investigate without further conversation.

Booster’s ears were still ringing as he pushed up from the floor. His whole body was aching and it didn’t help much of anything that Skeets was all but screaming in his ear.

“Sir, Steppenwolf is going to kill her!” 

All at once, Booster Gold pulled himself together and focused on the scene before him. The gigantic Steppenwolf held Supergirl in one hand while holding off Wonder Woman with simple and easy blocks. He was grinning like a cat that caught the canary.

“I shall see your soul pulled to Hades if a hair is displaced on her head!” Wonder Woman was roaring.

“Yes, your rage is good, is powerful,” Steppenwolf cackled. “You will need it as you lead Darkseid’s hordes, Fury! And once your spirit is bent to my will, once your sword arm is my own, I will have you slit the throat of this false Female Fury myself!”

“You… asshole!" Supergirl cried out, heat vision boring into Steppenwolf with little to no effect.

“Shit!” Booster snapped, leaping to his feet and immediately feeling the blood rush to his head. He reached up and swatted away at the sweat pouring around his goggles. “It’s so fucking hot here, no wonder he doesn’t care about heat vision…” He hesitated, eyes widening. He snapped his fingers. “Supergirl! Freezing breath! Freezing breath!”

“What?” Supergirl yelled, cutting her heat vision off and looking his way before the orders clicked. She looked at Steppenwolf and smirked. She sucked in a deep breath then blew out with all of her lungs’ capacity. 

Steppenwolf’s conniving grin faltered and he flinched away, releasing Supergirl as his face and hair contorted as it stiffened and built a thick layer of ice. 

The moment Supergirl was free, she landed on the ground, wobbly and uncertain. She was taking time to catch herself that made her a step or two slower than she needed to be in this situation. She was too young, too unprepared to be here.

Fortunately, Wonder Woman had the form of a veteran. 

Taking no time at all, Wonder Woman leapt up to Steppenwolf’s face and punched with her combined fists. 

Darkseid’s general hit the ground with an ice chin thoroughly cracked.

“Skeets, before he gets a second wind, let’s get out of here,” Booster recommended to the robot as he ran over and offered a hand to Supergirl.

Wonder Woman stood over her tormentor before turning to look directly at her two rescuers. Booster recognized a lot of Diana in her, but her shorter stature and the flaxan hair differentiated her from her mother. Her glare, though, was just as fierce.

“You are asking me to walk away from those who would have imprisoned an Amazon,” she said pointedly.

Booster blinked and glanced at Skeets as he opened a portal. “Uh, yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“No,” Wonder Woman said firmly.

“Oh, come on,” Booster sighed tiredly.

Supergirl glanced between the two of them before flying between them, facing Wonder Woman. “You’re not thinking clearly, Polly! They’ve got a full planet here to fight us. It’s better that we go back home and warn everybody before they try to invade our home!”

Wonder Woman’s expression softened slightly. “Val and Helena will be pleased to see you using your intelligence over your brawn, young lady,” she mused. 

“Thanks! I mean, I hope so,” Supergirl responded. She turns and looks at Booster. “Can you help us explain stuff to Batman and Superman?”

“No, sorry, not my department,” Booster answered with a shrug. “Sounds like you’re doing fine, kid, and beside, I’ve got plenty of stuff I need to take care of my own back home.”

Supergirl let out an “Aww” but got to her feet, offering her hand instead. “Okay, well it was nice working with you, Booster Gold.”

He took her hand and smiled at her brightly. “Same to you, Supergirl. It was… Cir-L, was it?”

“Yeah, but it’s a secret,” she said with a wink before flying through Skeets’ portal.

Wonder Woman hung back before walking forward. She looked over Booster carefully before holding out her hand. “Thank you for helping her and for rescuing me,” she said.

Booster accepted the Amazon’s hand and started to shake it. “No problem—” he began to say only to be dragged toward Wonder Woman with a jerk. His nose was nearly meeting hers as she glared into his face.

“But know this, if you endanger a twelve-year-old with a rescue mission, even for my sake, I shall feed you to the war hounds of Apokolips myself,” she warned him before releasing him and walking confidently through the portal. 

Rubbing his aching shoulder, Booster watched as Skeets closed the portal and shook his head. “Weird,” he said out loud before glancing toward his robotic friend. “Hey, are Kryptonian naming conventions different on Earth-Two than they are in our universe?” he asks out of curiosity.

“My records show they are the same, so far as our limited information indicates,” Skeets answered. “You are confused why Cir-L is not a Cir Kal-L, I assume. I also noted the discrepancy in my log.”

“Eh, I mean it’s none of our business,” Booster stretched, feeling his back popping along the way. 

“You did inform the young half-Kryptonian that you are renowned for getting into situations that are not your business,” Skeets noted.

“Yeah, but that’s when I’m not ravaged by exhaustion. Which I currently am, so let’s drop it and find a good shower back home, buddy,” Booster sighed, waiting for Skeets to open a new portal for home. “Rip should give me a raise.”

“I do not believe he actually pays us, sir,” Skeets countered, never capable of letting things go.

“I know, Skeets,” Booster sighed, walking through the dimensional doorway to their home universe, “Believe me, I know.”

Batman went still when he entered the dining quarters. There was a large cork board in the middle of the room, and the entire thing was covered in photographs and news clippings of Booster.

Had they finally figured it out? What Booster was doing; all of his work to protect the time stream? He’d worked so hard to hide it from them, at such extraordinary cost, but—

“Okay, SO!” Beatriz yelled, raising a bottle of beer into the air. “We know for sure that he went on a date on July 15th of that year, because we have proof!” She waved a news clipping in the air. “Tora! Put another checkmark in the bisexuality column!”

“And one in the straight column!” Guy yelled, floating in mid-air, throwing a wadded up news article at Bea. 

“But what if it wasn’t really a date?” Tora said, looking oddly nervous about this. “What if he just took her out for dinner and the press thought—”

“They’ve been at this for half an hour now,” Karen said, comfortable on the couch, next to a slightly horrified looking Nate. “I think Bea hacked the FBI to get some of this information. Tora suggested she just ask Oracle, but Bea yelled something about skewing the data and refused.” 

“This is Guy’s fault, isn’t it?” Batman asked, not needing an answer. 

She shrugged. “Technically, Tora was the one who got us started on this topic.” 

“... it’s Guy’s fault, isn’t it.”

Karen smirked. 

He cleared his throat very loudly, causing the three of them to freeze where they stood. “What are you doing?”

The three of them exchanged looks in a drunken panic, and then Beatriz set the corkboard on fire, which Guy was forced to put out with a construct fire extinguisher. 

“NOTHING,” they all yelled in unison, even as they coughed on the smoke.

Batman shook his head, but he had to be sure to turn around, just in case any of them noticed his smile.

Chapter Text

He was the latest in a legacy that stretched back to World War II. 

He was the inheritor to an alien superweapon. 

He had been to space, saved the world from a sentient satellite, and teamed up with some of the world’s finest... all before his fourteenth birthday. 

Ever since then, he had been plunged into a world that many people didn’t even know existed. A world of spies and secret agents, alien invasions and magical powers ... and, of course, Maxwell Lord, the man who murdered his predecessor, Ted Kord, and tried to do the same to him once already. 

He was... 

Jaime Reyes, the Blue Beetle looked at his best friends Paco and Brenda and sighed. 

“So you really can’t tell us anything?” Paco said, crossing his arms. 

“I give you guys all the dirt on the Titans, what do you want from me?” 

“Yeah but that’s the Teen Titans,” Brenda said. “You’re also running off and being on the Justice League. You’re probably the first teenager ever to be on it!” 

“Actually, apparently it was some guy named Ray, in 2002,” Jaime said with a shrug. 

“The first Latino teenager, though!” Paco announced, smugly. “My man!” 

Jaime grinned, ducking his head slightly. “It is pretty cool,” he admitted. “It’s weird, like... when I worked with them last time, it was all so... quick? Everything happened so fast, I didn’t even get time to really take it in. But now... it’s weird, you know?” He spread his arms right. “This was Ted Kord’s team. This is the Blue Beetle’s legacy. And it... feels like it, this time. There are these photos that they’ve got everywhere. This team was massive; I think basically every superhero I’ve ever heard of was on it at one point or another.” 

“That’s really cool,” Brenda said. 

“And it’s like... they’re like family, you know? They’ve got all of these stories, and every now and then one of them will tell me one of them, about all of these people I’ve never even heard of, and how they saved the world, and we never even heard about it, because they’re the Justice League, and that’s just what they do.”

“But?” Paco said, nudging him. 

“And then I ask them where these people are. What happened to them? Where's Mister Miracle and Big Barda, or Elongated Man or any of the others, and they all just get really quiet, because they died.” Jaime leaned against this hand. “It’s weird, like... I’m the third Blue Beetle, but the new Mister Miracle doesn’t have anything to do with our team,^[1] and there’s no new Elongated Man.” 

“There was a new Barda, for a while, wasn’t there?” Brenda said. “I remember seeing it on the Superhero wiki.” 

“I think so?” Jaime said. “But I don’t think she was around for long.” He shrugged. “But it’s like... this team was so big, and they did so many things, and they touched so many lives. The Dibnys—that’s Elongated Man and his wife—they were some of the most important people in the superhero community, and now that they’re dead, no one talks about them anymore.” 

“That’s messed up, man,” Paco said. 

“I know!” Jaime threw his hands up in the air. “It feels like... I don’t know, the League is the only one who wants to remember. You know I was hanging out with that Zatanna kid,^[2] and he asked me why I even bothered being on the League? Said it wasn’t a real Justice League anyways. And I asked him why, and he just said some things about how they never accomplished anything. They fought Doomsday!^[3] Superman was on the team! So was Captain Marvel! But when I ask, everyone acts like it was some sort of big, secret joke. And the only thing anyone will tell me is that it’s because of Booster and Blue Beetle!” 

“Booster Gold? That guy who saved you from the Reach ship?”^[4] Brenda said. “I mean, I know he does cheesy commercials, but the guy’s probably got to make a living.” 

“No one takes Booster seriously,” Jaime said, frowning. “Like, he was up there, in space with us, taking on that evil satellite, and do you know what that weird OMAC lady called him? A showoff.”^[5] 

“That’s rich, coming from an evil robot,” Paco said. 

Brenda elbowed him. “Dummy! She wasn’t an evil robot! She was a spy, remember what Jaime told us?” 

“Fine,” Paco said. “Rich from the lady who worked for Maxwell Lord, douchebag supreme.” 

“Wait,” Brenda said, leaning forward. “I thought Guy Gardner and that Oracle lady told you that Ted Kord was like, some amazing genius and inventor and superhero strategist?”^[6]

“He was!” Jaime insisted. “I’ve read his stuff; he knew what he was doing! But I was hanging out with one of the other Green Lanterns—”

“The Latino one? Please tell me you got to hang with the Latino one,” Paco asked excitedly. 

“No, he’s on Oa.^[7] Guy says he’ll introduce me the next time he’s on rotation on Earth, though! It was the white one that isn’t Guy.” 

“Wait, didn’t that one go evil?” Brenda frowned, alarmed. 

“It was temporary? I guess?”^[8] Jaime shrugged helplessly. “Booster says that when you hang out with a superhero who’s been around long enough, they’ve probably died or gone evil at least once. I think this guy did both.”

“But what did the inferior Green Lantern have to say about our man Ted Kord?” Paco said. 

“He kind of said some weird things. About Ted being a goofball, how he never really lived up to his potential. That he wasted his time doing stupid pranks and how if he’d taken things more seriously...” Jaime frowned. “Fire said something to me about how most of the heroes feel guilty about what happened to Ted Kord, because he saw things coming that the rest of them didn’t, and he died because no one believed him. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think people don’t take any of my League seriously.” 

“Wait, does this mean that they won’t take you seriously?” Brenda asked, alarmed. 

“I’m not sure,” Jaime said, folding his arms on the table and laying his head down on them. “But what’s weird is, even though Guy talks a big game about this stuff... I honestly don’t think they mind, most of the time? It’s like...”

“They’re just glad to be together again?” Paco said, thoughtfully. “Like, they’re a family. Not a team?” 

“Yeah,” Jaime said, swallowing. “Exactly.” 

“Well then, fuck the Green Lantern who isn’t the one we like,” Brenda declared. “We know Ted Kord is awesome, and since you’re on this League, obviously they’re awesome too.” 

“Not to mention, they kind of saved our lives that one time,” Paco pointed out.^[9] 

Brenda flapped her hand. “We totally had it handled.” 

“I did look pretty badass with my stick,” Paco admitted, flexing his arm muscles in a way that caused Brenda to fake-vomit and Jaime to fake-swoon.

“I guess I better start digging up stories about this League of yours, huh Jaime?” Brenda said, finally turning her attention to the pile of homework in front of them. “We want to know exactly who we’re rooting for.” 

Just as she said it, his cell phone started ringing with a familiar ringtone. Jaime grinned. “That’s the easy part, Brenda.” 

He picked up his phone, and then spread his arms while Khaji Da sprouted his armor around him and took flight. 

“You’re rooting for the Justice League International!” He called, and flew off.

He noticed her hesitation. She paused at the door, like normal, but she didn't cross the threshold at first. Most likely, she wasn’t used to seeing Max with his suit jacket off and working on his tie. Normally, he was well and ready for the day before anyone in the castle would think to look for him. 

But it wasn’t every day that a man prepared himself to talk to the despot royalty of a non UN member country. And Max wanted to look his absolute best. 

“You can come on in, B3,” Max said, looking at his tie in the mirror. “Especially if you’re good at knots.”

She entered, looking at her tablet. So dependent on technology, that one. “Your personal jet is ready in the north hangar whenever you are. As of fifteen minutes ago, we were still cleared for your visit and Khandaq was grateful for the refugee relief you provided.”

Max couldn't keep back his frown at that one. Until Checkmate was operating at full capacity again, his excursions and diplomatic shows have been eating into a personal budget. He had to play things right. 

Satisfying Dr. Maru’s needs for her new laboratory facility were not making coming under budget easy.

“We’ll see how grateful Adam is,” he sighed, glancing over to B3. She was in her standard Checkmate uniform, her wrist still in a guard but the arm itself is at least free from its sling. “Do you feel one hundred percent?” 

B3 didn’t blink at the question, but her good hand instinctively went to the damaged wrist. She frowned at him. “I'm fine, sir, thank you for your concern.”

He squinted at her suspiciously. “It isn't a concern, it’s a necessary assessment. I would think that after our last visit you would at the very least dress in armor plating.”

Immediately, the agent got back on guard, her shoulders stiffening. “I am not going into the field, sir, you said so yourself. That is why I helped you with your selection progress on a new pawn.”

Smirking, Max snapped his fingers. “That’s right, isn’t it? So, really, my question for you needs to be…” He paused for dramatic effect before waving to her, “B3, is that what you think you’ll be wearing for meeting a king of a future ally nation?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You need to look the part. Consider it undercover work. Now, go get dressed in something more suitable. Oh, and as much as I hate to say it, go modest. It’s one of those cultures, you know.”

At first, B3 didn't move. She barely reacted to things at all, which was distinctly disappointing in its own way. 

Then, slowly, a flustered blush came across her face before she nodded and left the room far quicker than she came in. 

He was about to return to his business when he glanced at the date display on his computer. As if he wasn’t well aware of the day, he finished his tie and strolled over to his desk. 

“Before I’m out,” he mused, flipping his finger lazily down the screen to the digital rolodex, “I should do my civic duty and make sure some of my favorite senators remember the importance of their congressional hearing today.”

“Karen, I’m really sorry—”

“Kal,” Karen said, carefully examining her hair in the mirror. “It’s fine. We can’t have anyone questioning your timeline, we know this.” 

Clark sighed. “I’ll be there. As a reporter, but I’ll be there. With you every step of the way.” 

Karen smiled, genuinely. “I appreciate that.” She sighed, as she looked at the outfit laid out in front of her. “Times like this I kind of wish I’d started wearing the crest years ago.” 

“You always can, Karen,” Clark said. “It’s your family too.” 

“Yes, but if I started wearing it now, it would look like a cheap stunt for sympathy,” Karen said. “It was a choice I made, and it means that I can’t exactly go back on it now that it’s inconvenient.” 

Clark sighed. “You’ve gone over your statement?” 

“Plenty of times,” Karen said, checking her teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. “J’onn and I have coordinated everything. Carter’s hopping mad; I think he’s been on every LexNews morning show that would take him.” 

“He hasn’t been summoned though,” Clark said. 

“Nope,” Karen said. “So he won’t actually be testifying today.” 

“And Starfire?” 

“She says she’s got her own plan, but it’s probably not a good idea to rely on her being able to testify. It’s got to be me and J’onn; they’re going after us specifically because of the League. We’re the controversial ones, so we’ve got to be seen as the ones handling it.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been getting good advice?” Clark said with a wry chuckle. “Been calling up Lois?” 

“Well, her too. But my new PR guy is great at his job.” 

“New PR guy? What’s his name?”

“Mike,” Karen said without hesitation. “Anyways Clark, I have to go. I’ve got a few things to do before the hearing.” 

“Break a leg,” Clark said. 

“Pretty sure that’s not physically possible,” she said, and then hung up. 

“Mike?” Booster said, elbow deep in her wardrobe. “Really?”

“I can hardly say that Booster Gold is helping me pick out my wardrobe,” she said, throwing her phone onto her bed.

“I don’t know why not, it’s not like anyone else around here knows fashion, except Wonder Woman. He’s been wearing that same costume for how long?” Booster said. “Okay, I know you hate it, but I really think we might need to go with tights. The Senate is really fussy about these things; they didn’t let women wear pants until the 90s.” 

“Shouldn’t I go for a skirt, then? More conservative?” Karen said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Nah, that’ll bring the comparisons to Supergirl,” Booster shook his head. “White, gold, blue and red. Not a bad color scheme. Red tights, maybe? Give it a patriotic look.” 

She sighed. “And that isn’t a shameless ploy?” 

“Yeah, but it also makes you pop for the cameras,” he said. “Wait, never mind, it’ll blend in with the cape. White tights it is. Gold tights aren’t for formal occasions, we don’t want too much blue to avoid comparisons with the Big Guy, or Democrats...” 

“I can’t believe you managed to get Bruce to make me another leotard so quickly,” Karen said, holding it up. It was almost exactly like her normal one, but missing the gap where the crest should be. It was complete, whole white. 

“Yeah, well, even he has to admit this is pretty serious.” Booster said, finally pulling out a cape. “Here, it’s your best one.” 

“Is the off-shoulder look the best choice in the formal setting?” Karen said, settling it over her shoulders. 

“Like it or not, it’s iconic,” Booster said. “The trick is dressing so that everyone knows who you are, but you look dressed up, so it’s clear you acknowledge how serious this is.” He shrugged. “If you didn’t have a secret identity, I’d suggest you do a nice skirt suit in your colors, but someone might notice how Power Girl resembles Karen Starr, and we want to avoid that.” 

Karen smiled at him warmly. “You’re sweet, Booster.” 

“You’ll have to skip the gloves,” he said, handing her a pair of knee-high boots. “It makes you look like you have something to hide.” 

“Ugh,” she sighed.

“Just wipe things down at super speed when no one’s looking,” Booster said. “J’onn’s gotten Miss Martian to make an appearance as Karen Starr at a fancy bistro near your work place, so you’ll have that base covered. But there’s no need to take chances. Most people don’t think Kryptonians have secret identities. Remember, when they ask you to state your name for the record, go with Kara Zor-L, rather than Power Girl.” 

“You... really are good at this,” Karen said. 

Booster laughed. “Hey, give me some credit. I’m one of the only heroes who has to think about this stuff. It’s hard to get a commercial deal when your image is bad.” 

So why, then, did he end up being publicly humiliated as often as he did? Especially right after... 

Karen forced herself to focus. It was not the time to ponder the mystery of Booster Gold, even if she wanted to do nothing more than just that, after his recent mentions to her about her home world, about a niece she didn’t remember having, being raised by Helena, of all people. 

Booster left her to get changed, and she did so, putting the pieces together. Her hair was glossy and smooth, almost the exact shade as the clasp and shoulder piece of her cape. She was carefully wearing makeup to emphasize how human she was, how she could easily be any one of them, if it weren’t for the costume. The armored look of her leotard somehow manages to make it look less tight than her normal one, and the tights, tall boots, and lack of gloves somehow transformed the outfit into something that looked... more professional.

There was a knock at the door, and she opened it, to see J’onn, in his fully green glory, wearing a blue suit jacket over a red undershirt, with a black and red tie patterned to look like his logo. 

“Karen,” he said, smiling. “You look lovely.” 

“Thanks J’onn,” she said, forcing her own smile. “Shall we?” 

He offered her his arm, and the two of them walked out.

Logically, Jaime knew that he was not needed in Washington at that moment, but it felt right to be there. He should support his teammates in their time of need and, more importantly, he knew how uncertain these sorts of things could make one feel.

Still, he was surprised by the sizable gathering outside on the hill and the colorfulness of the signs and displays both in support and in antagonism toward superhero aliens. 

Fortunately, at least, it mostly seemed to be in the camp supporting them. 

He could hear the confusion as Khaji Da took in the sights with him. 

“What can I say?” he shrugged mid flight. “People can get worked up about their heroes. Less so, apparently, about their fellow citizenry. Go figure.”

He swooped toward the steps of the capitol, feeling the hundreds of eyes tracking his descent as well as hearing the rumbles of people acknowledging his appearance. He wasn’t meaning to be on display, he knew today wasn’t about him, but it was rather interesting. The experience of being recognized as Blue Beetle outside of El Paso still felt fresh to him.

Walking up the steps from the crowd was Power Girl, looking regal and different from how Jaime’s gotten used to seeing her around the JLI base. 

She looked both surprised and relieved to see him. 

“Everything alright?” she asked him, only half serious.

“Just here to be supportive,” he told her, offering some thumbs up. “Just like we’ve been talking about, everything once you’re in the doors is just going to be senators trying to get a fifteen second television blurb. You give them soundbites; they’ll be over quicker.”

Power Girl smirked and arched a brow at him. “You know you’re a smart kid, right? You’re not waiting around for a bunch of old superheroes like me to give you the recognition you deserve, right?”

“Nah, I’m good at recognition. I kind of got it pretty quickly after everyone lost me in space for a year,” he joked with a shrug. When he didn’t get a laugh or even a larger smile from Power Girl, he felt the need to fill the silence. “Maybe I’m confusing recognition with guilt. Not that, uh, anybody should feel guilty. Maybe Batman.”^[10]

“Good luck with that,” she finally joked back.

“That’s what everyone says,” Jaime breathed with tremendous relief. 

As Power Girl moved on, beginning to be utterly surrounded by suits, cameramen, and general crowds of all sorts, Jaime ducked toward a side entrance and followed the traffic toward the congressional chambers. People were moving so quickly, so efficiently, that even the circus that an event like this is still keeps the illusion of perpetual progression. 

He thought it would almost be awing if it wasn’t so terrifying. 

Despite being a man in a giant bug suit, he was checked over by security and examined with a hand wand. 

It beeped uncomfortably at him. 

“Sir, do you have any metal on you?” the inspector asked.

“There’s a metal space bug fused to my spine,” Jaime felt compelled to share. “Oh. And I think the suit is metal.”

She looked at him steadily. “You don’t know whether or not your costume is metal?”

“It’s from space?” Jaime offered before going quiet. The hum from Khaji Da traveled through his spine and into every corner of his body as the information shared between them. “Right, okay, I’ll tell her.”

The woman looked unnerved as Jaime concentrated back on her. 

“So, the suit is made of a metal, but if you need me to pass the wand-wave-thingy then we can make it non-ferromagnetic for the test,” he said. 

Looking unimpressed, the woman crossed her arms. “We?” she repeats.

“Me and—”

“The suit?” she finished snappishly.

“Kind of. Mostly the bug attached to my spine,” he explained poorly. 

“And it can make your suit nonmetal?” she attempted to clarify again.

“It can make my suit non-ferromagnetic,” he shrugged. “I think only iron, nickel, and cobalt are magnetic.” He thought of his AP Physics lab for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Oh! And gadolinium! I knew I got them all on the test. Okay.”

The woman pinched between her eyes. “You can go ahead. Only superheroes cause this much of a headache.”

Khaji Da seemed discontent at the comment, but Jaime couldn’t have been happier to take advantage of the moment and move forward through to the packed hearing room. 

Again, things seemed like a sea of anxious reporters, their crews, concerned public, and people sitting in oak benches at the forefront of the circular room. The vast majority of the senators seemed to be in suits that were older than Jaime, and probably cost more than his prospective college tuition. 

“Well,” Jaime muttered to himself, filing in awkwardly behind the side of the room occupied by Power Girl. “I guess I need to try to rekindle my faith in the legislative branch.”

At that, a hum ran through his body, one less with resonance and more confusion than before. 

Despite himself, Jaime sat down and rolled his eyes at Khaji’s objections. “C’mon you know I was being sarcastic. I never had faith in any of the branches.”

Once things began to settle, Jaime looked around and took stock of the room. He was stunned by the number of news crews, but even more surprising is the lack of superheroes to be seen. 

With so many of them possibly affected by this inquiry, Jaime assumed that more would make themselves known. Or, at least, to be supportive friends to Power Girl.

Sighing, Jaime crossed his arms and looked ahead. “It always falls to the younger generation,” he muttered just as the gavel was used. 

The hearing began in earnest.

Everyone knew there were no superheroes in Khandaq. 

Who would dare, after all? Black Adam was a ruthless dictator, a man who, on his last rampage, had nearly decimated the entire superhero community. He had shut the doors to the entire world, had killed foreign agents who tried to infiltrate his country, and was one of the most dangerous men in the world.^[11] 

It hadn’t always been this way, Midrab knew. 

She scaled the building, grateful for the darkness. It took effort to get a signal out of this country, and the highest building in Shiruta was her best bet, unless she wanted to take the chance at finding a convoy leaving town. The medical convoys would sometimes take her in exchange for protection, but she hated the risk that one day, Black Adam’s tolerance for her would wear thin, and his wrath would fall down upon the head of anyone who came near. 

Khandaq was her home, and she loved it with all her heart. She remembered it before Black Adam, remembered it during the glorious few months when Isis had come, bringing with her tolerance and kindness, opening the borders and bringing in all sorts of wonders that the rest of the world had to offer. 

After the borders had closed, Midrab had been offered a way out. She’d taken it, because she was afraid. 

She’d gone to Gotham, because that was where her companion was from. 

And it was there that she had found the Bat. 

It was still with her, even half a world away, emblazoned on her chest in bright yellow. A challenge to Black Adam, to his harsh gaze, to his loathing of the outside world. 

A challenge he only tolerated because he knew she was no threat to him. 

She was a rumor, for most of Khandaq, but she knew that Black Adam knew of her, because she had seen him, above her in the sky, watching as she worked. Protecting the few green spaces left, beating off men who harassed women on the streets... quiet work. Work that Black Adam could not condemn, because he remembered Isis. 

Like she did. 

She punched in the random series of numbers and letters that formed her passcode for the day, and breathed in, and out. 

“We live in the shadow of the Bat,” she said, the words strange in English, no matter how many times she said them. 

“Midrab!” Oracle said, sounding relieved. “You—we heard rumors about a crack down.” 

“I was a civilian at the time. I was passed over,” she said. “But I have news.”

“What is it?” Oracle’s voice was artificial and layered, as always, but beneath it Midrab thought she could hear the woman she knew was there, the woman who she was lucky enough to meet, that night in Gotham. 

Midrab clenched her hands into fists. “They have cleared the landing field. They say we are getting visitors from some group named Checkmate. I believe Batman said to keep an eye out for their activity.” 

“Checkmate. Do you know who is coming?” 

“No,” she said. “My source does not know anything, besides the name of the organization. And that Black Adam has agreed to meet them personally.” 

Oracle let out a hiss that sounded strange when filtered through the layers that protected her voice and identity. “That’s unusual.” 

“Yes,” Midrab said, leaning over the edge of the building to get a look at Adam’s palace, where she could still see the memorial statues, even in the darkness of the night. “He rarely sees anyone these days. And to agree to see outsiders is almost unheard of.” 

“This could be very bad. Black Adam could be a dangerous ally for Checkmate to have.” 

“I doubt that Checkmate could offer Adam anything that he would want,” Midrab said with a shrug that Oracle could’t see. “He has wealth and power, and he is in mourning still. What could this man, Maxwell Lord, offer him that he would want?” 

“Good question,” Oracle said. “Are you ready for next week’s codes?” 

“Yes,” she says. 

The codes came one after another, and she memorized them all, not daring to write them down, because the risk of interception is too high. 

Her existence as a Bat within Khandaq was precious. Black Adam’s fragile tolerance of her could be shattered in a heartbeat if he realized that she was in contact with the outside world, that she had a link to the Oracle, to Batman. 

She had never met the man, but she doubted that Black Adam would care about such a technicality. She worked for him, and his friend Bruce Wayne helped her smuggle weapons and a uniform into the country so that she could be properly armed and armored. 

She adjusted the settings of her goggles, and scanned the streets below her. 

All was quiet that night, there in the heart of Khandaq. 

She wondered how long it would last, with Checkmate bringing the outside world back.

Karen had been to enough board meetings as the CEO and founder of a company featured in Forbes and Science Weekly at equal volumes. She knew what it felt like to have a large number of crusty old men interrogating her with the specific intent in their questions to be getting rid of her. 

She’d almost enjoyed thwarting those attempts in the past. But there was something far different in this moment. 

It felt larger, more accusatory. 

Their questions weren’t about whether or not she made the right choices to raise stocks in the last quarter. These questions were aimed at her right to claim of humanity.

The honorable senator from a state that Karen knew she’d saved at least one city was leaning in, his shoulders arched. 

“Missus Power Girl,” he drew out almost enthusiastically, “you’ve stated a number of times before this committee that you see your contribution to the planet and to these United States as being overwhelmingly positive. That you, and other superhuman denizens are an intrinsic good to humanity.”

Karen felt the twitch of her lips as she attempted to keep a neutral smile. She desperately wanted to cross her arms and knew she must resist. Must be open. Must appear honest. 

Must avoid her abilities in super-sarcasm.

“I believe that is an accurate summary of my feelings, though not my exact statements,” she said. “And, senator, please, you can address me as only Power Girl.”

“Do you want to emphasize that you are unaffiliated or is it inaccurate?” he asked. “It’s difficult to track in the headlines, after all. Where your statuses lie.”

She knew her smile was wearing thin. “Marital status? For most superheroes in the public eye, senator, it is more beneficial to our loved ones if we maintain a degree of distance between our private lives and those of our work.”

“And do politics stand in the private lives or the work lives for most of your kind?” he asked, a sudden sharpness to his tone.

Hesitating, Karen tried to think over the brief rundown she and Jaime went over with all of the senators. There was nothing specifically flagged about this senator that got her attention initially. Now she was slightly more concerned. “I would imagine most find that to be a private aspect. Though, of course, anyone is entitled to political leanings,” she attempted to maintain diplomacy. 

He grinned like he had her in a trap. “I’m afraid citizens are entitled to political opinions and political actions, Miss Power Girl,” he informed her condescendingly. “And these hearings are a matter of questioning that citizenship for non-terrestrial alien types. Of which you admit to being one. You also admit to having a private life in which you may be political — and at least some of your kind are — which is to say that there is a population of non-citizens who are interfering with the political process in America without any proper accountability.”

Karen opened her mouth, brows furrowing, when she noticed Jaime and Clark in the junket behind her. Clark looked pained but Jaime was helpfully shaking his head.

They had discussed this. Don’t accept the framing. 

Taking a deep breath, Karen looked down to her podium and found that it had dented beneath her fingers. She moved her hands to her sides and looked back up at the senators. 

“I’m relieved to say I don’t know of any superheroes who have done such a thing, senator,” she explained. “By discussing political action as a private matter, I mean that to say that most of us are not comfortable with using our public images to sway public opinion in one way or another with regards to politics. We wish to remain nonpartisan for almost all issues. I’m only before you today because this particular question has affected a population I am a part of and I am answering the call to action you all have made for me.”

Jaime gave her a helpful thumbs up. 

“That’s interesting, Miss Power Girl,” the senator leaned back in his chair. “I would find it of some small comfort if not for your political history.”

Caught off guard, Karen nearly tipped the podium over. “My own… political history? Of what do you mean?” she attempted, glancing at the clock for when his time would be up. 

“Your time along with five other super powered individuals — one of which is also an alien of questionable citizenship — worked on a task force with the President Luthor administration,” the senator said.

Clark took off his glasses and began rubbing at his eyes.

Karen took a deep breath, remembered her practice, and eased back into the moment. “My assignment to aid the Luthor administration, along with the other heroes who answered the call, was to address a public safety concern at the moment. After the threat was addressed, and Luthor was unceremoniously removed from office, my services were no longer necessary and I continued operating with the Justice Society of America.”

The timer reached zero and the senator did not make a request for reclaiming his time.

Reaching for the glass of water next to her, Karen glanced back to Clark and Jaime. She received a thumbs up from both of them that time. She smiled around her glass of water before putting it back down.

The next senator was a woman and reportedly pro-citizenship. Karen hardly paid attention to her introductions before she got her first question.

“You speak of the overwhelming positives that you provide,” the senator said, looking over the rims of her glasses, “and yet I cannot help but question the benefits you provide the culture. Do you see yourself as inspiring young women?”

Karen teetered slightly before looking back at the senator in question. “I would hope for men and women in equal measures. But, yes, I know the benefits of having women up front and visible.”

“Yes, women,” the senator said, tapping her pen on her desk. “And yet you go by the name Power Girl. Is that demeaning?”

“Uh,” Karen uttered for longer than she meant to, her mind cycling through years of the same torment. 

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking,” the senator presses.

“I’m…” Karen stopped herself and put her glass down. “Senator, I’m old enough that I definitely can understand the questionability of going by Power Girl. I think of myself as a Power Woman,” she attempted to joke. There was only some awkward laughter for her trouble. “However, I have been operating in the public eye for over a decade now.^[12] And when I began my career, it was as Power Girl. I was fifteen. And it was incredibly empowering. It still is, for me, and for many young women, and men , I have met over the years. It is the person I am known in the public as.” She gave a somewhat shallow shrug and looked at her questioners. “For what it’s worth, I feel like it’s how the public has come to know and trust me, and as a sign of valuing that trust I maintain something that is as trivial as a nickname to the public.”

The senator continued, far more sympathetic and focused on the question of citizenship. For which Karen was relieved.

She thought back to Booster’s advice, about how all of the senators asking questions wanted their viral moments. But it was still disappointing. 

Karen didn’t think the hearings were giving any viral moments to the big question of legal citizenship. And maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised by that as she was.

When they called for a recess, it took all of the restraint in the world for Karen to not burst out of the doors first.

Max got off the plane, sighing as he felt the heat. First Russia, now this? He honestly needed to find allies in more temperate climates. 

He chose an elegant linen suit for this occasion; a nice, neutral beige. Light, cool, and distinguished. 

B3 had followed his instructions to the letter, having produced a tan colored linen skirt that went down to her mid-calves and was belted around her waist, a white and gold striped collared shirt with a black scarf, a tan jacket, and a straw hat with a blue ribbon wrapped around it. Her hair was pinned up in a more classy version of her normal sedate bob, and, much to Max’s delight, she had located a pair of blue Mary Janes to finish off the outfit. 

He really needed to take her to more places. He’d love to see what her legs would look like in a pair of real heels. And a shorter skirt. And a more daring top.

She followed him, as did his new bodyguard. 

James Bern, Black King’s Pawn, was a tall, handsome man with curly blond hair and a jawline that Max could crack walnuts on. He seemed to be sweltering in his own traditional suit, but he said nothing, his eyes darting everywhere as he looked for threats. 

It was too bad, truly, that he couldn’t bring Tabu with him on this one, but Agent Bern would appear to be less of a threat than Max would be as well. He was trying to play by Black Adam’s game. The man didn’t want metas or any of their sort in his country, and he’ll respect that. Well, within reason. 

B3 held up a white-gloved hand to hold her hat in place as a particularly strong gust of wind blew at them.

Max, used to it after all the time he’s spent traveling by helicopter, didn’t allow it to phase him, even as it makes his tie whip around wildly. Smirking as if it was nothing, he strode confidently toward the waiting car. 

“Mister Lord,” the man said, bowing low. “Black Adam sends his greetings, and an invitation to meet with him in the palace tomorrow morning.” He produced an actual, physical envelope, made with good paper and proper calligraphy. 

Max approved. Technology was useful and all, but with Barbara Gordon in play, he tried not to rely on it too much. And if you were going classical, you might as well go classy. 

“The driver will take you to the hotel,” the man continued. “It is rare we have visitors, so they are honored to host you in the executive suite, with separate rooms for your companions.” 

Max smiled. “Black Adam is a gracious host. I look forward to meeting with him tomorrow. Please, convey my thanks.” He said, bowing back. If it was a little mocking, the man didn’t seem to notice, although he thought B3 did. 

He got into the car, with B3 and Bern joining him. It was a town car with bench seats facing each other behind the driver, so he arranged it so that B3 was across from him, and Bern was next to him to keep an eye on the road. 

He gestured for B3 to roll up the glass divide between them and the driver, and she then took out a white-noise device to fool the listening devices in the car. 

“So?” He said, looking at B3 pointedly.

She pulled out her tablet. “Since World War III, Black Adam has mostly kept Khandaq in complete isolation. He’s rebuffed any attempts at an incursion, recalled all of his ambassadors, locked down the internet, and apparently spent significant amounts of time attempting to regain his powers.”

“But they’re back?” He said, raising an eyebrow as he held out his hand towards Bern, who stared at him in confusion. He sighed. B3 was much better at picking things up than Bern. “My case, Bern.”

“Oh,” Bern said, reaching into his inside jacket pocket, and producing Max’s silver cigar box, embossed with the seal of the JLI. It had been given to him by Bill Clinton, commemorating the JLI getting U.N. Sanction.^[13]

Max selected a cigar—Cuban, of course—and raised an eyebrow at Bern again, who fumbled for the matching silver lighter—this one a present from the League themselves. 

B3 kept reading as this all went on, her eyes fixed firmly on the tablet. “Yes sir. By all accounts he returned to full strength. Possibly stronger, because some people believe he weakened himself by granting powers to Isis and Osiris. We don’t have evidence of that, though.”

“Isn’t Osiris back?” Bern couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, he is.” Max said, before refocusing on the important part.^[14] “So, completely isolated, led by one of the most powerful men in the world. And everyone just... lets this happen?”

“Honestly sir, most of the international community is just relieved he’s no longer playing on the world stage. He caused a great deal of... issues, for most major players at one time or another. His alliance was seen as unpredictable by most world leaders, and pretty much everyone is willing to leave him alone as long as he doesn’t try to do anything outside of Khandaq.”

“Interesting,” Max said, blowing a smoke ring. Bern started to cough, and he saw B3 glare at her fellow agent for daring to express weakness, before she returned to her briefing. 

“Anyways sir, mostly Adam has been focused on reconstruction efforts over the past few years. A new city is in development; named Adrianna, for his dead wife. There’s all sorts of elaborate memorials all over the country, and by all appearances he’s thrown himself entirely into the rebuilding efforts.” 

Max leaned back, crossing his legs. “And what does Intelligence think about this?” 

She didn’t look up from her tablet. “He’s definitely had contact with all sorts of magical influences, but we don’t really have any informants of note within the supernatural community since Jessica Midnight disappeared,^[15] so our information is outdated. But by her more recent reports, it seemed like he was interested in resurrection rituals: he had a bounty out on locations of Lazarus Pits, but there seemed to have been some sort of scuffle with the League of Shadows, and the bounty was rescinded without anyone collecting it.” 

Max raised an eyebrow. 

“Lazarus Pits are... inconsistent, sir. But most people agree they can’t bring someone back to life any more than normal resuscitation, just extend life. It seems that Ra’s al Ghul decided to remind Adam of that. With some explosions, if our satellites were correct.” 

“A charming man, Ra’s al Ghul,” Max mused. “Very... to the point.” 

“As you say, sir,” B3 said. “But unfortunately, outside of our limited information from the magical community, we don’t really have any proper sources in Khandaq beyond your own contacts. Adam had a very... public execution of people who had been recruited by intelligence agencies all over the world. After that, almost every government pulled their agents on the ground, with a few exceptions. Adam hunted them all down personally. No one’s seen them since. Essentially, Khandaq is an information dead zone. With less than a hundred individuals in this country even having internet access... not even spyware can give us much. Really, sir, we’re going in blind.” 

“But that means that everyone else is blind, B3,” he said thoughtfully. “No one will know we’re here.” 

“Probably not sir,” B3 agreed. “But still, if you don’t mind, I believe I’d feel more comfortable if you’d allow us to check your hotel for traps as well as listening devices.” 

“Of course,” Max said with a smile. “I’ll be glad to see Agent Bern here at work. You come highly recommended,” he said, switching his attention to the Pawn to see how he handled it. 

The man seemed completely off balance for a moment, but he rallies. “Thank you sir. I’m excited to be working with you.”

“Yes, this should be very interesting,” Max said, gesturing for B3 to switch off the white-noise machine as they pulled up to the grand entrance of the hotel. It was an elegant building, made of marble and inlaid in gold, with tall pillars and swooping ceilings. 

Max smiled, and let Bern get the door for him and B3. 

This should be very interesting indeed.

Jaime watched the glow from the machine rather intently. He always felt strange, standing in the middle of people in civvies with his armor fully up. Especially while he did mundane things that he normally wouldn’t as Blue Beetle. But this was a weird situation. 

A few people in suits and collars stared at him as the machine rumbled and finally released the soda.

“Two-seventy-five for a bottle,” Jaime groaned as he bent over and grabbed the well-shaken drink. He glanced at a few of the reporter-looking people around him and flashed a grin. “Guess we found something the tax dollars aren’t paying for, huh?”

He took the drink and walked away, having to crowd past people to get the room nicely offered to Power Girl for her two off away from other eyes.

By the time Jaime got in there with the soda, she had crushed a wooden chair into pieces and was floating, cross-legged, in the air rather than sitting in the chairs. Probably to avoid crushing another one to dust.

“I’m sure it deserved it,” Jaime said, shutting the door behind him.

“I’m fine,” she said, not looking Jaime’s way. “I think it’s going well. I think we’ve made some strides. We might not need J’onn to clean up after me. Or, well, whatever plans Starfire had. That’d be good. I was nervous about that.”

Jaime walked up to Power Girl and glanced at the wood chips and dust on the floor. “Would Starfire have crushed a chair?”

That earned a snicker from Power Girl. “You’ve never met Starfire in person, have you? She would have incinerated that chair.”

“Huh,” Jaime muttered. He then held up the soda to Power Girl. “I hear a little bit of carbonation helps with nerves.”

“Aw, Beetle, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, reaching over and accepting. She quickly opened it and took a breath. Her lidded eyes stared into the drink’s top without really looking at it. 

For a moment, Jaime considered letting the silence hang between them, but he couldn't help it. Power Girl was one of the few members of the JLI that was incredibly personable, and yet she was also one of the few that he’s had the least time with. She also might have been one of the few that would actually talk about the one subject considered taboo.

“You don’t have to call me that if it’s weird or awkward,” Jaime said. He caught her puzzled look and elaborated, ignoring the sputtering and objections of Khaji Da. “I mean calling me Beetle. I know we’re in public, technically, but we already scanned and have blocked everything around us, so…”

Power Girl raised a brow at him. “It’s better to get in the habit of calling everyone by code while we’re in suits, kid,” she said.

“I know, but you guys… knew him, and that’s,” Jaime floundered. 

To his relief, Power Girl smirked at him. “Don’t worry, Beetle,” she said, keeping her emphasis heavy on his title. “It’s not like Ted was the first Blue Beetle, either. I think he’d actually be super offended if he was the last Blue Beetle, really. He took a lot of pride in carrying it on.”

“I get that,” Jaime said, pulling up a seat for himself. “I mean, I do, too. I don’t talk about it as much as I did when I was getting started — just ask some of the others, I used to always wonder what Ted Kord would do.”

Blanching, Power Girl held up her hands and shook them. “Oh, no, no, don’t always do what Ted Kord would do. Swear to god. That is not a standard.”

Vaguely offended, Jaime turned away and gave Power Girl a curious look over. “What? That’s like my whole hero career, doing what the Blue Beetle would do.”

“If you keep it to heroics, you can’t go wrong,” Power Girl laughed, fully and heartily. “He was by far one of the most heroic people I’ve ever known. And just, so inspired to do it for no other reason than it was the right thing. Hell, I want a little of Ted Kord in me. But, um, on a personal level,” she put her hands on her knees and leaned back in the air. “I mean. We all loved him for a reason. You would smile and laugh until it hurt, but he was so…”

Feeling the honor of his hero being questioned, Jaime leaned in. “What? Intelligent? Marketable? Passionate?”

“He was a complete dumbass,” Karen snorted. “He one time swore enemies with a mouse in the control room and decided the only way to fight it was to build a mouse-sized transporter in an afternoon, set it up with cheese, and it unleashed a twenty-foot mouse on lower Manhattan.”

Jaime squinted. “What? I’ve never heard that—”

“Speaking of transporters, one time Dumb and Dumber got together,” Karen snickered, “and thought it’d be hilarious to pull a prank on Flash and me by acting like the transporter malfunctioned and had swapped their body parts. I nearly had a heart attack. And then I nearly killed them.”^[16]

“Who, him and Booster?” Jaime clarified. “I mean, I have heard a lot about Blue and Gold—”

“He went bankrupt so many times that I can’t even count them off the top of my head, and not that that’s a sign of character, but Ted…” Karen trailed off in thought and took a breath. “Ted never had a work-life balance that made other heroes envious, Beetle. It was always too much of one or the other. And the same was true of his idea of business ventures. His eyes were as big as his dreams, and it didn’t always matter to him whether or not his wallet followed suit. He was brilliant in so many ways, lighthearted and joyful in so many others. But he’d break your heart after leading you down the same roads with him. He wasn’t great at seeing the forest for the trees most of the time.”

Jaime’s mouth twitched uncomfortably. “He saw things other heroes didn’t,” he pointed out.

Power Girl looked almost wounded as she glanced at him. “He still missed the same thing the rest of us did until it was too late, though,” she said quietly. “You know about him and Booster… but has anyone told you that the two of them were also the closest of any of us to Max?” 

Silence swallowed them up almost immediately. 

“What?” Jaime asked, disbelieving. 

It seemed, for a moment, that Power Girl was about to elaborate, but her communicator went off. 

“Weird, I had it turned off,” she said, pulling it out and looking down at it. Her face went to a stony neutral almost immediately.

Jaime blinked. “What? Who is it?”

“It says zero-dash-one,” she said, unblinking.

“Isn’t that the callsign when something’s taken over by Oracle?” Jaime asked. “I remember that happening to my computer once and then the Oracle face took over—”

Without any warning, Power Girl put her hands together around the JLI communicator and pulverized it in a loud display of sparks and smoke. “Sure is!” she said back. 

“What! Why’d you do that?” Jaime blurted out in shock, rising up to his feet as he stared at Power Girl. 

“Remind me to tell you about my adventures with Ted in regards to Oracle,” Power Girl said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’ll give you the short version, which is that we don’t get along.”^[17]

“Yeah, apparently,” Jaime balked just as Khaji Da begins tingling along his spine and printing out code in front of Jaime’s vision. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, dude. I’m getting the messages, too. I’ll tell her.”

Power Girl tilted her head. “Tell her what?” she asks.

“Okay, promise to not crush me like your communicator, but it’s from Oracle,” he said, flinching away from her.

“I make no promises, what’s the message?” she said unhelpfully.

“Uh, well, apparently there’s some emergency with an operative in danger,” he explained quickly. “Oracle needs you to… Wow, so you need to fly to Khandaq because there’s someone who may be in danger from Black Adam and Checkmate, and you’re the only one who can do it.”

For a moment, Power Girl didn’t seem to be reacting to anything being said, but then she raised her hands and roared. “Goddammit, Oracle!”

“Wait, what are you going to do? They’re expecting you back in there any minute!” Jaime reminded her. “It’s going to look really bad if you don’t!”

“What looks worse? Me not answering dumb questions for another five hours or allowing my former teammate to possibly cause World War IV?” she asked, her decision apparently made. “Go home, Beetle, we’re done here today. I appreciate your help, but—”

“No way,” Jaime shook his head. “If you’re going to Khandaq, so am I. I’m your backup.”

“There is no reason for you to put yourself in this kind of danger,” she informed him, already heading for the door. 

“It’s what Ted Kord would do,” he said confidently.

Power Girl stopped and looked at him before snorting and shaking her head. “Dumbass,” she agreed affectionately before exiting.

Chapter Text

Hers was a name that carried weight in two different worlds at the same time!

Hers was a story that involved the implosion of planets, the shifting passages of time, and the breaking of reality. Hers was many things, but it often was simplified to the barest and most consistent of her assets.

At once she was a survivor, a hero, a CEO, a scientist, and an icon. She was one of the most powerful women in existence, yet all too often her position on teams and among families were eclipsed by the public’s fascination with her very form.

The end of each day, she was responsible for protecting two very large and distinct tracts of land in the multiverse.

She was Kara Zor-L. 

She was… POWER GIRL!

And she was relying on the two most important weapons in her arsenal: her magnificent power, and her long and storied history with others.

Khandaq was not exactly a jump and a skip away from D.C., but access to JSA, JLA, and JLI clearance all at once did wonders for one’s travel time.

She wasn’t sure what she should expect, it had been a long time since she had stood on the same grounds as Black Adam,^[1] since there was anything but pure antagonism between them. But she knew that some sentimentality existed in Black Adam still, even if it was warped and broken. 

“Blue Beetle,” she said over her shoulder, only daring to look back long enough to make sure the teen hero perked up in attention. They weren’t far from Khandaq airspace and they were flying nearly side by side. “Stay a little further back, when I tell you to stop in a minute, you need to stop and not cross any further than where I tell you to stop.”

“Um, okay,” Blue Beetle answered, grimacing. “But what if you need help?”

“If we do this right, then I won’t need any,” she said with false confidence. “But I do need you in contact with whoever you can get a hold of in the JLI and let them know what’s going on. If things change, you’re going to let them know long before you cross the line I’m about to set for you.”

“Uh, Power Girl, I’m not asking these questions just to be annoying, I promise,” Beetle said in a rambling fashion, “But are we even sure of what’s going on now?”

With a grunt, Karen shook her head in annoyance. “No. That’s the joys of Oracle and me. She never lets me know how bad something is until she’s got me stuck in it.”

“Hm,” Blue Beetle hummed. “Maybe because you broke the communicator.”

“That was just cathartic,” Power Girl attempted to argue back. She then stopped midair and held out her arm, blocking Blue Beetle at the chest in doing so. She tapped on her ear where a communicator should be, then flew forward.

Just as Karen knew he would, Blue Beetle had his communicator on and seemed to be working on contacting others.

She flew forward, her stomach churning uncomfortably as she faced into the borders of Khandaq. Taking a breath, she moved into the airspace and knew, from that moment forward, that she was putting herself at risk in ways that were normally difficult for a Kryptonian to comprehend.

Even then, however, she was unprepared for just how quickly Black Adam appeared in the flesh. 

It was a crackle of lightning, a rush of wind, and suddenly Power Girl was face to face with the ruling despot of the country... who she had once been able to call a teammate, and perhaps even a friend.^[2] 

Black Adam stood before her, his arms crossed over his massive chest as he glared down over his nose. Shadows cast over him as his gold and white cape licked at the winds around him—it was his formal attire, if it could be called such. Something he wore as a king rather than as a threatening force on the Secret Society. 

He would only be dressed this way if Karen had interrupted a formal meeting. Like with some ridiculous billionaire sociopath trying to make waves in international politics. 

Karen swore under her breath. Point for Oracle on that call, then.

“You are trespassing on a sovereign nation’s territory, Power Girl,” he informed her. His eyes slowly changed direction, peering in the distance at Jaime before returning to Karen. “You seem aware of this and have directed the child with you to do otherwise.” His nose curled. “Wise advice. You should have followed it yourself.”

“He’s not involved with this,” Karen said quickly. 

“Do you think me so cruel as to harm children?” he asked thinly.

“No, Adam, I know you that way,” Karen couldn’t hold back. “You forget that I was there, from the start, when you went on your tear through Bialya.^[3] There were teenagers in your way then, too.”

Like any sanctimonious type Karen had dealt with, Adam’s face turned into cruel indignation at the merest mention of his misdoings. “You forget yourself, woman,” he said sourly. “You are addressing a ruler and a protector of the people. One who can make quick work of even your substantial might.”

“Then why are you scared to outright ask me why I’m here?” Karen demanded.

“Because it is inconsequential,” Adam snapped back. “I will be telling you to leave regardless. You are only standing now because—”

“Of our shared history, yeah, I know,” Karen growled. “Adam, you think you’re acting cool as a cucumber right now, but I’m not buying it. You know what I think? I think you’re not asking because you already know. You know you’re in the wrong on it, too.”

Black Adam’s eyes narrowed. “On what, precisely, Power Girl?”

Karen glanced back to Jaime, wondering how far he’s gotten with his communications, then back to Adam. She had two paths to take this down—either risk blowing a Bat’s cover, or blowing the relatively low key nature of the JLI’s pursuit of Max. 

She hoped for the best and went with the least explosive option. 

“Tell me, Adam, do you know what Maxwell Lord is doing in your kingdom right now?” she asked sharply.

Midrab knew she was taking a risk, breaking into the hotel of the Checkmate agents.

She had not been able to get close enough to the plane in order to identify the individuals who had arrived in Khandaq—most importantly, if this was Maxwell Lord. 

Midrab did not fully know the story of Lord—her position as an operative within Khandaq meant that it was difficult for her to get full briefings. But she knew the broad strokes. He was one of the most dangerous men who had ever lived. He could control minds. And through her old contact, she even knew a dark secret; that he once controlled Superman.^[4] 

And now, he was in charge of Checkmate, a position he had once before, and he used that position to cause some of the horrific events that led to everything that had happened. 

Because of this, she did not break into his room directly, instead opting to break into the room of one of the less-important Checkmate Agents, adjacent to the largest suite. 

She rifled through the suitcase for clues, but found nothing of note but a sleek black catsuit with blue markings that she suspected was some sort of Checkmate uniform. Oracle had said that Checkmate had gone mostly back to paper in an effort to keep her out, but she could find no trace of files anywhere in this room. 

There were plenty of surveillance devices, of course. There were some from Intergang, and others from the rudimentary intelligence agency that Khandaq had. She had worked for them, briefly, during the Year, before Isis had died. Afterward, of course, Adam’s attention had wandered, and she and most of the other women in the agency had been forced out. 

She scowled to herself at the memory of that. She had been good at her job, for all that she hadn’t had much time to grow accustomed to it. But none of that had mattered to the man who had taken over Intelligence during World War III; she was a woman, and worst still, she was a woman who was widely rumored to have had an affair with a foreigner, and so she was fired without ceremony.

All she could be grateful for, she supposed, as she moved to hijack the Khandaqi Intelligence bugs for her own usage, was that he had never figured out who her affair had been with—if a single one night stand in drunken grief can be called an affair.^[5] 

Safely in control of the room’s bugs, she made another sweep in hope of finding any clues to the identity of any of the Checkmate Agents, but finding nothing, she knew she would have to move to the next room. 

She glanced at the window, trying to decide if she should leave and re-enter the building, but she decided it was too risky, and instead, she carefully opened the door. 

Seeing no one, she quietly slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind her as softly as she could, and began her trek down towards the second room for a Checkmate lackey. 

Her brother’s wife was a maid in the hotel, and she had it on good authority that the two lackeys were downstairs, ordering food and using one of the city’s few internet terminals. 

So she did something incredibly foolish, and simply opened the door without checking for heat signatures, or any of the other tricks she had been given in order to check if a room was occupied first. 

A man in an impeccable suit was standing there, looking amused at her presence. “So, he did manage to get one of you into Khandaq after all.” 

Maxwell Lord. 

She grabbed for her utility belt, for the gas pellets that should be able to put him to sleep, but—

“Stop,” Lord said, and she did. 

Every muscle in her body jumped and twitched, trying to fight against this feeling that had taken over her mind, keeping her hand suspended an inch away from her belt. 

“Take off the belt and slide it across the floor,” Lord said. His nose was bleeding, Midrab noticed faintly, even as her hands followed the orders. No one else could take off her belt; a security feature that Oracle was proud of, but it didn’t matter when she was the one disarming herself at the orders of a man who, the rumors had it, had once been friends with the original Bat himself, had been given his precious trust, and had fooled him into giving him the Brother Eye. 

“What’s your name?” Lord asked, sitting on the bed, looking curious. 

“Midrab,” she answered. 

“What’s that, Khandaqi for Bat?” He shook his head. “Honestly. Anyways, I don’t care about that name. I want your real name,” he said, leaning forward. 

She tried to force her jaw shut, ground her teeth together, bit her tongue and then her lips until they bled, but the words left her without her permission. “Sooraya.”

“Lovely name,” he said, smiling amiably. “Now—”

“Mister Lord!” A woman burst into the room, gun drawn, a man behind her with a larger gun in his own hand. 

“It’s quite alright B3,” he said, waving it off as if a Bat in the same room as him was no threat at all. She seethed inside, trying to think if Oracle or any of her other teachers had given her any advice for such a situation, but could think of nothing. “Sooraya here was just about to tell me everything she knows about Batman Inc.” 

Sooraya felt herself go cold, as the woman twisted her arms behind her. “Handcuffs, Bern,” she snapped, and the man provided them. 

She could get out of them, probably—it was one of the first lessons that the Question had given her, on their trip out of Khandaq together. But these cuffs didn’t feel typical, felt stronger and tighter, even through the fabric of her gloves, and she was forced onto her knees. 

Maxwell Lord. B3. Bern. 

Well, at least she knew who was in Khandaq, she thought, borderline hysterical as she looked up into Maxwell Lord’s smiling face.

“You have some sort of information coming in from my country, is that it?” Black Adam asked, eyes sharp and gritted teeth even sharper. “There are those within my borders who betray us.”

“No, Adam, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Karen said quickly. 

“Do not address me so informally,” he corrected her darkly. “If you do not have access to information from within my country then you would not be able to speak so disrespectfully of my honored guests.”

“Maxwell Lord is the furthest thing from honored anything,” Karen pressed. “That’s why I’m here, to warn you that any fool’s gold he’s selling you is only going to lead to pain and suffering.”

Black Adam’s stance didn’t change, but he allowed his head to move ever so slightly, lessening the shadows over his features. “In Khandaqi culture it is believed that a guest takes on a special place in the host’s home. They become, so long as they are guests, a member of one’s family. They are treated and defended as such. Do you mean to come to my lands, Power Girl, and say that my guests lack honor? Do you find me lacking in honor?”

“You know that is not my intention!” she fired back.

He grimaced. “I know of your history, Power Girl. Of your original place in this universe — and of the universe from which you came—that it is not the same as our world.” He sneered. “And yet your perspective is so unmistakably American. I do not care for your intentions or your ignorance of my culture. But you crossed into my lands and then speak derisively of our ways.” A small smirk worked its way onto his face. “I do not believe this meeting is going well for whatever your intentions were.”

Knowing he was right, Karen pulled herself back. She took a deep breath. She needed to think things through. She needed to remember that the man before her was not unreachable. 

“Black Adam,” she said with a sigh, “You are right to feel attacked and targeted by the world. It has not been helpful or kind when it needs to be. And I can see how I and the teams I represent can ultimately feel like extensions of that.”

Seemingly surprised, Adam’s brows raised. 

Karen put a hand over her heart, “But I want to let you know that I’m not here to perpetuate that. You know that Maxwell Lord is guilty of many things—and manipulating the world is just one of them. He’s also, unmistakably, a salesman. Whatever he is wanting to promise you in order to get you on his side, I want to counter with another offer.”

His eyes narrowed once again. “And you speak for America?”

“No,” Karen said lowly. She sucked in a breath and then looked vulnerably toward the dictator. “As CEO of Starrware Industries, Karen Starr. I have access to technology and software that is used all over the world, by many companies and by many governments. A working relationship with your nation and my company could mean advancements and, importantly, economic relief to millions in Shiruta alone.”

For a moment, Black Adam still seemed lost on the revelation. But his expression hardened and he turned away just enough for Karen to see the conflicted profile of Adam’s face.

“You cannot counter the offer I have been given,” he said to Karen in a low voice. “No one can short, of who gave it to me to begin with.”

They lapsed into silence and Karen thought over just what was going wrong. What important thing to Khandaq she was missing.

Then, it hit her. 

It wasn’t an offer for Khandaq.

“He can’t give you her back,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “No matter what he says—”

“HOLD YOUR TONGUE!” Adam roared before a heated, terrible strike of lightning blasted Karen from the skies above.

J’onn could feel the tension spiking in the room, even as he tried to reiterate to the Senate that there was an emergency that requires Power Girl’s specific skills. 

They were out for blood, more than even just their normal desire for press, for sound bites. Some of them in particular... This was an old grudge, one that J’onn couldn’t identify without probing deeper than he would care to. 

There was, of course, the xenophobia, the racism, that percolated beneath so much of this discourse, but it was not aimed at him or Karen, not in the same way it was aimed at humans who arrived in this country with as few documents as he and Karen had. 

J’onn had a long memory, even if his field of politics was more often the United Nations than the U.S. Congress, and he cast his eyes around the room again, circling with more care, now that Power Girl’s absence had exposed some anxiety, some anger. 

A few of the ones most eager were ones that he remembers being ones that Max liked to call friends, ones who he took out to exclusive clubs and golfing. Several were co-sponsors on bills to genetically track meta-humans. One was a man who had introduced a bill every single year for the past decade to enlist all superheroes to serve in the U.S. Armed forces, although the bill had never even seen a committee hearing. 

There were friendly faces too; the Kansas Senator who had introduced a bill to memorialize fallen superheroes after the last Crisis, the Rhode Island Senator who had visited the JLI a few times over the years, back when they were headquartered in the state, and a few who were ambivalent to vaguely friendly. 

The Chair was calling for order, and J’onn prepared himself to be pulled into a worse round than before, when a whisper suddenly broke out from behind him, in the reporter’s section. 

“Starfire—”

“Making a statement—”

“Capitol steps!” 

Almost every reporter made a beeline for the door—a Senate hearing is one thing, but Starfire was one of the most popular heroes from one of the most popular teams in history, and she rarely made public statements. 

Flustered, the chair called for yet another recess, and J’onn, drawn by curiosity more than anything, found a private corner behind a pillar to transform into one of his favorite forms and went to see what the princess of Tamaran had to say.

Koriand’r was standing behind a podium, and J’onn could feel almost every jaw in the audience dropping. 

Humans found Koriand’r to be stunning even in the heat of battle, with chaos and danger in all directions to distract. In her most ordinary outfit, she could silence any room she walked into. 

She did not pick an ordinary outfit for today. 

Ascribing to American custom, she was wearing a suit in her signature purple. A white high-necked ruffled shirt is beneath the suit jacket, and the skirt was incredibly conservative for the alien princess, being almost knee-length, despite how difficult he knew it was to find a skirt like that for a woman of her stature. A pin gleamed on her right lapel with the Titans logo, and another one on her left lapel with the logo of the Justice League. 

But that was the end of her adherence to the style one might wear to speak before Congress. 

Tall, golden, designer heels were on her feet, granting her an extra six inches that she did not need. Her hair, wild, curly, and flame-like as ever, had been woven through with threads of gold and silver, growing larger around her face to form a Tamaranean battle crown. Alien precious stones gleamed around her neck and dangled from her ears, glowing the same green as her eyes. 

And while Karen had carefully applied makeup to emphasize her humanity, to make herself seem similar, benign, and common, Koriand’r’s makeup was done for the opposite effect. She was beautiful, she was dangerous, she was royal, and she was alien, and she wanted everyone to know it. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” she said, and even though J’onn knew that after two decades on Earth she could sound as ordinary as anyone who has spent most of her life in the Bay Area could, today, her accent was as thick and striking as it was the day she had first arrived on this planet. 

“Today, the Senate of the United States of America calls upon those of us who are from other worlds, to determine if we belong here, in this country.” 

So caught up was he by her presence, from the sharp focus of every eye, every camera, every microphone, that J’onn realized with a slight jolt that she was not alone, behind that podium. 

She was flanked by Donna Troy in her glimmering leotard that shone like the stars, Wally West as the Flash, Dick Grayson in his Nightwing costume, rather than his Batman outfit, Raven with her hood down, a rarity for her public appearances, Beast Boy, requiring no outfit to mark him for who he was, Garth of Shayaris, thin and emaciated from his coma,^[6] but wearing his own red uniform, and Victor Stone, who had located a suit jacket for the occasion. 

A sign of unity, of power, an appeal to nostalgia. The only ones missing from this scene were Roy Harper, who was still missing, and had been for years.^[7] 

The cameras flashed frantically at this rare sight, at not the current, expansive team, at not any of the newer, younger variants that have popped up over the years, but of the second, and arguably the most popular version of not only the Teen Titans, but any superhero team that has ever existed. 

Together, as adults, in their new costumes and with their new names, but there could be no mistaking who they once were, and what they were saying with this message, this support of unity.

To stand against Starfire was to stand against them. 

It would be media suicide. 

“I was very young when I first arrived on this planet,”^[8] Koriand’r continued, over the clicking of camera shutters and the whispers of the audience. “I did not arrive with papers. I had no visa. No passport. I was not approved by any committee, did not sit for any interviews. I did not speak the language. Nor was I fortunate enough to have any family here. 

“And I am not the only one who has found herself in this situation. Humanity has made great progress in technology and in space exploration, but Earth still has no formal diplomatic relations with any other planet, including my own. I, and the Martian Manhunter, and Power Girl, and every other one like us, who find ourselves here... are refugees. I, the heir to the throne of Tamaran, was driven into exile by political rivals who sought to kill me. Many others are the survivors of genocide, of disasters, or of simple cruelty. Our origins are varied, and we come from so many different and far away places, that one might say we have almost nothing in common.”

She paused, and every reporter hung onto her every word.

“But we do,” she declared. “We found home, here, in America. I found friends, and family, in my teammates, who came from all corners of this country. They took me to your Ellis Island, where I gazed upon Lady Liberty, and I saw, in that poem on her plinth, what I had felt since I came here, and was greeted with kindness that I had almost forgotten, in my exile and captivity. All of us found ourselves here, and we all chose to stay, and not only to stay here, to flourish and grow, but to help. We have led the Justice League, the Teen Titans, and probably other teams that I can’t think of at this moment. We have fought off invasions, held off monsters, and battled those who would call themselves gods. We have put ourselves on the line. Some of us have even died, to protect this country, and its citizens.” 

The silence that rang was painful, and she bowed her head, as if remembering those who had fallen. 

“I am an alien,” she said, raising her head again, her eyes blazing green, her hands gripping the sides of the podium. “I am the Princess of Tamaran, living in exile, here in America. I am a member of the Justice League, as well as the Titans, and I have lived these twenty years here in America, a place that I am glad to have called my home. But today, I am told that there are questions about if I and my colleagues from across the stars are good enough. If we have suffered enough, if we have served enough, if we have bled enough to be worthy of calling America our home.” 

She turned around abruptly, and the audience gasped as she, seemingly out of nowhere, removed her suit jacket, letting it drop to the ground. She then grabbed a hold of her hair, which easily fell to her waist, and lifted it over her shoulder. 

The audience gasped again, this time in horror. 

J’onn looked away. 

Tamaranean skin did not mark easily. They were not as hard to mark as a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, but they were a race of warriors, bred for battle. 

And the audience did not even have his context, this knowledge of how hard it is for someone to scar someone like Koriand’r. 

They only saw the web of scars, silver against the gold of her skin, crisscrossing from the nape of her neck, where the collar of her shirt is, all the way down to her waist. She had chosen the shirt carefully, for its lack of a back, for the inches upon inches of scars that it revealed, for the story it told. 

She turned around again, only a moment later, but long enough that the silence was pointed, dangerous, and J’onn found himself smiling. 

“I was captive by the Gordanians for six years before I escaped and landed on this planet,” she declared. “And I consider myself lucky, when I compare myself to the horrors that I have heard some of my dear friends, both superhero and civilian, human and alien, tell me of.” 

Nightwing helped Kory back into her jacket, a moment he knew which the gossip blogs would focus on, over the content of the speech or the horror of her back. 

“I am not a citizen,” she announced. “I was not called to answer for this fact today, before Congress, so instead I answer for this in front of all of you. I am undocumented, I am an immigrant, and I am an alien. And if anyone decides that any of those mean that me and my fellow refugees from the stars should not remain in this country... then I shall weep for the country I called home, for the country who promised me, after six years of torture, that this was the home for the tired, the poor, and those, like me, who were homeless and tossed about by the tempests of space.” 

She nodded, regally, in the direction of the Senators, who had been drawn out, like the rest of them, by the spectacle. “I will be happy to take questions now,” she said. 

And the front steps of the Capitol Building exploded with the pent-up energy of a hundred reporters, hungry for a story.

There were a few things Booster had learned over the years, few as precious as the myriad of cures he had collected over the years that dealt specifically with headaches. It was a cold comfort to know he could rely on them once he dealt with the meltdown his team was having.

“Listen, we just need to make it to Hong Kong and from there gain entry to the mainland where a short trip to Beijing will set us up with Batman’s guy,” he reiterated, pointing to the detailed map on the board. “There’s no need for overreacting yet, this is one of the few times we’re getting to be proactive here, making some points on the board before Checkmate gets there.”

The rest of his present team was unamused, mostly in frustration for having been torn away from the viewing party they had been having of the congressional hearings. 

Booster could relate—he was pulling for Karen and J’onn. But he also knew that if they could stop Max, they could keep a lot of this external stuff from going south anyway. 

That didn’t, as it turns out, translate to much empathy from the team.

Bea sat slouched in her seat, arms crossed over her chest and eyes glaring right over Booster’s head to the screen. Her foot was tapping like an angry cat’s tail. “If Batman has a guy then what point is there in us doing anything?” She asked.

“To reach out as the Justice League International,” Booster replied, exasperated. “It’s going to have a lot more weight with the already fairly paranoid Chinese government if we do it as opposed to some lone vigilante with a bat logo.”

Gavril, suited up save for his helmet, looked confused before pulling up something on his tablet. “That is not true.” 

Rubbing his face, Booster groaned. “What isn’t true, Red?” 

“Bat-Man of China not vigilante,”^[9] he turned his tablet over to show the rest of the team a Russian article and several heroes in bright outfits. Their logos looked intentionally off-brand of some familiar ones including Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, and, of course, Batman. “They are Justice League China. Government is in charge of them. Much like in Russia and Rocket Red program.”

Tora smiled awkwardly between Gavril and Nate, leaning in slightly to faux whisper, “I think it’s nice to have a supportive government, don’t you?”

“You mean a controlling government which tries to stifle individual heroic instinct,” Nate answered in full "Ra Ra Patriotism" fashion. “The American government works with hero teams, it doesn’t need to institute them. That’s when it gets dangerous for heroes like us.”

Tora’s face fell slightly and she tilted her head. “Didn’t America try to kill you?”^[10]

Nate’s left eye twitched. “That was before I was a superhero.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine then,” Bea cut in, rolling her eyes. “We should definitely lean on independent teams with no accountability and worldwide reach because of deep pockets. That makes information from someone like this Bat-Man so much better than if I had gone in and done it for ourselves.”

Booster gave Bea a look. “You know it’s the same deep pockets that sponsor us, right? Like there’s literally no daylight between the two.”

“Whatever,” Bea pouted.

“Okay, we’ve thoroughly beaten around the bush enough, but I have to ask,” Booster sighed. He glanced at each of his present teammates. “Do we have any questions?”

The chatter dies down as they all look expectantly at Booster. He was almost ready to move on when there was a thud on the conference room table.

Guy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, threw his boots onto the conference table and glowered at Booster. “Yeah, I’ve got a question.” 

Booster squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Oh Jesus what is it,” he muttered. 

“If Bats is going to continue sending us globetrotting then he probably should be here himself, or at least send us the chick he had us babysitting,” Guy pointed out. He leaned in toward Booster and the rest of the table, eyes sharp. “So here’s my question, Gold: why isn’t Bats here right now?”

That, at least, Booster had a solid answer for. “He’s at the Watchtower for something else and can’t make it,” he said simply.

“Fuck it! That’s it!” Guy declared, slamming his palms down on the table and leaping to his feet. “All you sissies can go run yet another errand for Batty Warbucks instead of getting real business done, you go and do that, but I’m out.”

With that, Guy kicked off from the conference table and all but jumped to his feet. He was halfway to the door before Booster could even think to form a response. 

Nate was already on it, though. “Guy, where are you going?” 

Guy created a large green hand construct to flip the bird behind him as he walked through the door, but he still answered with an aggressive, “Out!”

Sighing, Booster tried to think of this as ultimately a positive. Guy wasn’t known for his deft hand at diplomacy anyway. He glanced over his remaining available team—Rocket Red, Captain Atom, Fire, Ice, himself—something he could work with, at least. 

“I think that’s enough time wasted, we still want things smooth and it’s going to take nearly two days to do this right since we’ll be moving paperwork with us from Hong Kong to Beijing, trying to not cause too much a stir,” Booster determined, poking at the stack of papers and files Batman had him printing off and getting ready. “So pack light, but look nice. Let’s meet in the hangar in about fifteen minutes, and—”

Everyone seemed to be agreeable to it, getting up, picking up their own files from the stack, when the screen behind Booster begins lighting up and sounding an alarm.

“Of course,” Booster muttered. He turned and saw an incoming message from Jaime. He closed his eyes. “Please be a butt dial, please be a butt dial.” He answered the call and leaned into the monitor’s speaker. “What’s going on there, Blue Beetle?” 

“Hey, uh, we probably need somebody to do something,” Jaime immediately said, as unhelpfully as possible.

Everyone else paused and looked at the screen and Booster.

“In D.C.? J’onn should be there by now,” Booster attempted to maintain the control that they had over everything just five minutes ago.

“No, not D.C.,” Jaime explained in hushed tones. “We’re on the border of Khandaq and Power Girl is talking to Black Adam and—uh-oh. Okay she told me not to move but there is lightning and shouting.”

The unexpected news nearly knocked Booster back on his heels. He wasn’t even sure how things went so south on the other side of the planet without him looking. He could also feel the eyes of all four remaining Leaguers on him and it made his stomach do flips.

“Okay, Jaime? Do not move from where you are!” Booster snapped.

“I’m already not moving,” Jaime argued, but Booster wasn’t listening.

Turning around back to his team, Booster’s mind raced with strategies to take on the change. He pointed at Beatriz. “Bea, you’re in charge of the Chinese situation now. Everyone keep doing what we planned on, just listen to Bea.”

“Why Fire?” Nate demanded haughtily.

“Oh my God, I’m not going to answer every question about my decisions anymore, do you guys even have an idea of how much of our time is wasted on me answering stupid questions?” Booster’s voice cracked throughout in frustration. “It’s like you guys just want to waste time on questions! What are we? Middle schoolers?”

“But what about you?” Tora asked genuinely.

“I’m going to Khandaq, dammit!” Booster groaned before running out the door and heading to the teleporters in a very Guy fashion.

“Mr. J’onzz, how do you feel that the hearing went?” Clark said, the two of them happily sequestered in a small meeting room while the rest of the press corps chased down Kory and the Titans. 

“I say with sincerest hopes that we have answered the questions that the Senate has for us. I understand that people have many questions, not only about who we are, but how we came here and what it is we do. I hope that they find comfort in the knowledge that our community includes such exemplary examples of compassion and goodness as Power Girl and Starfire,” J’onn said. “The two of them, as well as Hawkman and other members of our community who are, as Starfire says, refugees from the stars, have served the American people for decades, and I believe that their record speaks for itself.”

Clark scribbled some notes in his own personalized shorthand, which he had developed years and years ago specifically to confound Lois Lane, and now used it out of habit, even though Lois had long since learned to read it. 

Clark leaned forward, allowing his glasses to slip down to the tip of his nose. “And off the record?” He said, his voice carrying Superman’s cadence. 

He sighed. “Max timed this well, if his goal was to lure Karen away.”

“So you’re sure it is Max?”

“Who else would be so bold as to court Black Adam directly?” J’onn said, shaking his head. “The man has tasted power, Clark.” Guilt, grief, and betrayal flashed through Clark’s mind, so stark and strong that J’onn could feel them even though he had retreated deep into his own mind to protect himself from the crowd. “He will not rest until he has built himself up again, until he has regained all that he has lost.”

“But he can’t,” Clark said, sounding uncertain. “He’s an international criminal... every intelligence agency on the planet wants his head. Waller wants his head.”^[11] 

“I don’t know how he will manage it, Clark,” J’onn said. “I only know what he will seek. And even Amanda Waller’s influence is limited, as much as she would like you and the rest of us to believe otherwise.” J’onn stands up and paces. 

“She’s furious, according to Oracle,” Clark observed. 

“Of course she is,” J’onn nodded. “And perhaps she is right to be—she was forced out, and shortly after, Max returns? She will be taking that personally.”

“If she’d been there, she’d be dead,” Clark pointed out. 

J’onn gave him a look. 

“... she’d probably be dead?” 

J’onn said nothing. 

“She’d at least have had to go to ground, like Bordeaux and Holt?” 

“Perhaps,” J’onn acknowledged. “But she will not see it that way. She will see a man she despises take over an agency that she was once a part of, and she will take that personally.”

“I think most of us are taking Max personally,” Clark said, almost sullenly. 

J’onn had to smile. “Indeed.” He paused. “I have been remiss in my manners, Clark. How is Lois doing?”

Clark’s smile was almost shy. “She’s... she’s good. Five months now. We’re still... it’s hard to believe that this is even happening.”

“It is a gift, Clark,” J’onn said, softly. 

“I know,” Clark said. “I just—”

“You wish that Christopher were here for this,” J’onn finished for him.  

“He’s going to be a big brother when we find him again,” Clark muttered, removing his glasses and covering his eyes. 

When, still, not if. Hope was strong in Clark, it always had been. 

J’onn’s grief was ancient, but he could remember hope for his daughter,^[12] hope for a miracle, for a return to his arms. He was as close to healed as anyone could possibly be, but he still ached for her in moments like this. He placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder. 

“You will find him,” he said, firmly. “And he will be delighted to meet his new brother.” 

Clark breathed deeply, a shuddering sound that could almost be a sob. “We’re talking about naming him Jon. After... after Pa.”

“A good name,” J’onn said, with a slight smirk that made Clark laugh. 

“It is, isn’t it? I think half the League’s going to claim he’s named after them.”

“Perhaps, if you have a daughter, you could name her Mary,” J’onn mused. “That way, the other half can claim the same.”

Clark laughed, and smiled at him. “Thanks J’onn. Well, I better go file this before the deadline.”

“Somehow, my friend, I doubt that will be your problem.” 

“Now you sound like Lois. I can’t use superspeed to type, I’m not Wally. It turns out gibberish if I do.” 

“Well, then I suppose you must truly get moving,” J’onn said. “And I should go ensure that my League has not done anything too inadvisable in my absence.”

Clark stopped in the doorway, looking a bit concerned. “... is it true that Booster’s in charge?” 

“Do not be ridiculous, Clark,” J’onn said, well aware of the irony lacing his own voice. “Why on Earth would we do that?”

Clark looked massively relieved, and left, and J’onn smiled to himself, before changing into one of his favored forms, Rei Hino,^[13] and exiting the halls of Congress.

The B-roll footage ended on a drone panning over the crowd of angry protestors in front of the capital. Anchor Jack Ryder sat poised at his desk, brows furrowed in overly expressive concern as he looked straight into his wide shot. 

“Hours of testimony later, a complete circus made of our interrogative process, hundreds of thousands in the streets wanting to be heard by their elected officials… And yet the biased mainstream media continues to declare today a victory for those wishing to expand our citizenship to illegal entities far beyond even the comprehension of our Founding Fathers?” He shook his head in confusion. “That is the school of thought put upon the masses?”

“Now, it’s not to say that the so-called heroes who arrived for the congressional hearing today didn’t put on an entertaining show. Or that they weren’t successful at appealing to emotion in their statements today. It’s hard to hear statements of any living thing in hardship and not have your heartstrings pulled somewhat.” He tilted his head to the opposing side, a small nod to shifting perspective. “However, there is a reason that we must act beyond simple emotion.

“If the only thing these disparate but ultimately privileged and over-powered aliens can appeal to when asked simply what it is that justifies their breaking the law, is the emotions involved in the decision… Well, I suppose we know that they aren’t really answering any of our concerns at all. If they can’t stick to facts and logic, because those two important and, in this case, only factors in deciding policy, then they shouldn’t waste our time by getting involved with our political process at all.” He pointed a thumb against his chest. “That’s what makes America work.”

Shifting, Ryder turned just as his side camera was switched to. He smirked sardonically, the overly serious presentation gone as his showmanship shone through. 

“Since the obviously market-researched and PR-coached moves done by the alien so-called heroes were attempting to get more entertainment than they were information, I say we treat them with just that amount of dignity. Tonight on the program, we’re welcoming back longtime LexNews correspondent and personal friend of the show, Gordon Godfrey. Godfrey, you are an expert on culture, having just published another New York Times best-selling book on the influence of superheroes on the youth known as ‘Suping-Boys and Batty-Girls: Where Are the Real Women At?’ What’s your take on today’s circus?”

The screen split as a well-manicured man with swooping red hair and bold eyebrows grinned back at Jack Ryder. His gray suit was perfectly tailored for the close-up they have him in. 

“Thanks, Jack, and before I go anywhere, I need to thank the congressional hearing for finally having a senator ask the question I’ve been asking in that book you just mentioned: what is it about these heroes and their fetish of scantily clad women calling themselves girls well into their thirties, forties, hell even fifties? And hanging out with young teenage boys? No wonder the youth of today are more comfortable with calling up superhero hotlines than they are getting jobs.”

Ryder let out a forced laugh that cut off awkwardly short. “That is the truth. Especially considering the spectacle today. Everyone is making such hay about the speech by not-so-Teen Titan Starfire, and forgetting that the real subject of the hearing today left abruptly halfway through!”

“Power Girl did turn tail and run, Ryder, you’re right there,” Godfrey chuckled. “And what a sight that was. That was a brand new suit, nothing she’s debuted before, and yet you could still see the bikini cut for all it was worth. Of course, being a feminist icon, some panty shots are probably going to have her rebranded as EmPower Girl, while she does just the opposite of empowering our culture and what it means to be a citizen of not just America, but of our world. Our reality. It’s just a big joke.”

“Unfortunately, Godfrey, I have to agree with you there,” Ryder said, shifting back to his main camera. “We’ll see just how bad of a joke this all has become. Power Girl was spotted along with teenage hero Blue Beetle passing over the Middle East and towards the powder keg of hostility Khandaq. If people want to claim America is mistreating these superpowered aliens and superwomen, running to Khandaq may just remind them of what a good deal America has been so far. But more on that after this break.” 

Chapter Text

He was born in 1945.^[1] A man of the military, his path had taken many swerves over the years. 

He had been framed for treason and sentenced to death, only to be used as part of nuclear experiments that would change the course of his life... and possibly the world. 

Thrown forward twenty years, he would discover that his body had been encased in a mysterious metal... and that he was a nuclear man. 

He had been a pawn in the power games of individuals and nations . But he also wielded a great and terrifying power ... One that he always must worry about for fear of irradiating the world around him or falling forward or backwards in time! 

He was Captain Atom, the voice of military discipline and reason and once-leader of Justice League International!

Nate had every confidence in his team.

Perhaps it was a foolish thing. Once upon a time Nathaniel Adams had every confidence in his commanding officers. Then he’d had every confidence in the justice system. Then he had every confidence in his country’s president. Each of those ended in disaster.

But the Justice League, Nate was confident would turn out differently.

At least, he hoped. 

Sometimes it was more difficult to believe in that, such as now, as their flawless plan fell apart before they had left Hong Kong for mainland China and their leader-apparent was nowhere around to explain to them how things could be fixed.

Beatriz’s bright green hair was sizzling and crackling around her head as she slammed the palms of her hands down on the counter and leaned in toward the reception desk. 

“What do you mean we’re being detained until further notice? These are government documents!” Bea demanded angrily. 

Everyone else stood back, only Ice brave enough to be in striking distance. Gavril was pulling at his collar and looking sideways toward Nate. His eyebrow raised casually as Nate stood in attention.

Nate couldn’t help standing at attention. It was an old habit. One he’d never put any effort into getting rid of fully.

“You nervous, comrade?” Gavril asked.

“No,” Nate answered. 

Subconsciously, he reached up and scratched at his chin. He didn’t feel it — he hadn’t felt those subtle human touches since he was experimented on — but the texture of the scratch was different than the smooth containment suit. It probably wasn’t a perfect approximation to human skin, but the synthetic fibers were close enough to hide his inhuman features. 

He could tell by the lack of stares. 

It was nice, he felt, to not be the one in their group drawing unwanted attention for once. 

“It’s strange, though,” Nate said, deep in thought. “Batman is able to make me a fake skin to wear around that’s almost perfect, but he can’t make our passage documents get us into the Great Ten?”

“Ha!” Gavril laughed, elbowing Nate awkwardly. “Batman of Moscow would done it better.”

Nate watched Tora attempt to calm down Bea in the heated argument at the table and decided that he should stop sitting back and waiting to react. He still had his contacts in the military, after all, and there was a chance he could smooth some things out. Get them at least as far as Shanghai. 

“Watch the girls,” Nate told Gavril before walking toward somewhere quieter in the airport. 

Closer to the bathrooms, Nate came to a stop and pulled out the brick of a cell phone he had been given. Along with being resistant to radiation, it had the benefit of carrying a signal nearly anywhere in the world. Which, it seemed, he would be needing to get a hold of Washington. 

After dialing, Nate expected to hear a ring, but instead when he put his phone to his ear he could feel a low grade buzz. 

“The hell?” he muttered, lowering his phone and looking at it. 

When he looked back up, he saw right in front of him the last person on earth he was hoping to find.

“Hello, Nathaniel,” Maxwell Lord said cheerfully, wiping at his upper lip. “Long time, no see.”

The thing was, Sooraya knew how to resist torture. 

For starters, torture didn’t work. One didn’t tell the truth under torture, one said anything at all to make the pain stop. It was a spurt of nonsense, admitting to any guilt, accusing anyone who they dangled in front of them, agreeing to anything, anything, if they just stopped the hurt. 

But Maxwell Lord had no need of torture, even though Sooraya had no doubt that one or both of B3 and Bern were trained in it. Probably Bern; the man seemed like he’d be the sort to have dabbled in wet work. 

Lord had a meeting with Black Adam, and he told Sooraya with an air of cheeriness to answer any question B3 had for her truthfully, and then he and Bern left. 

Sooraya stared after him with loathing. The man grated at her nerves, like every smug and condescending man she’d ever worked with in Intelligence, but with a power that allowed all of the disgusting thoughts in his mind to come true. She longed to get up, to run, to break in B3’s perfectly straight teeth, but she was restrained, and, unfortunately, the mental command was still in effect. 

“How did you get into Khandaq?” B3 asked, hands clasped in front of her. It was not a good interrogation pose, Sooraya could have told her that, but she really wasn’t in the mood. 

“I was born here,” she said. Lord hadn’t said she had to be helpful, afterall.  

B3 scowled at her. “How were you recruited?” 

“The Question,” she said. 

“That crackpot?” B3 asked, and just like Sooraya hoped, she hadn’t heard of Renee. Instead, she was thinking of the faceless man who Renee mourned so fiercely. “I hadn’t realized he was connected to Batman.”

Sooraya thought of making a snide comment, but it was for the best that she kept her mouth shut. Every second she dragged this out increased her odds of tiring out B3, or, if somehow possible, a rescue. 

The questions diverged for a while, picking out her background, her training here in Khandaq, and her skills, her way of contacting the outside world, when the rest of the country was so closed off. 

It felt like hours passed, and B3 was clearly on edge, moving to sit down on the bed eventually as she started asking questions less about Sooraya, and more about Midrab.

“Who’s your contact with Batman, Inc.?” 

“The Oracle.”

“The Oracle’s a legend.” 

Sooraya said nothing, because it wasn’t a question. 

“Who is the Oracle?” B3 demanded, clearly displeased at Sooraya’s petty and transparent attempts to dodge her questions. 

“I don’t know,” Sooraya said, so, so grateful for the layers of precautions that everyone involved had taken, knowing the risk of where she was being sent. Torture didn’t work, but she still could not give away information that she didn’t possess. An important thing to keep in mind, in a world of telepaths. 

“What do they look like?”

“I never saw a face,” Sooraya said. This was true. She had, however, seen red hair, and a wheelchair, and someone with those resources could put these facts together, but the longer she could protect Oracle, she would.”

The phone rang, and B3 stopped to answer, turning away. 

“Mister Lord?” 

“I just realized," Lord's voice said, loud enough that Sooraya could hear it over the phone. "I forgot to tell you to ask her a very specific question. We don’t need names, B3. Ask her... where she met the Oracle.”

There was a delicate mission that most of his people were on involving China and several questionable vigilantes or superpowered people. A decent part of Booster Gold’s logical side knew that as the somewhat-kind-of-sort-of leader, he should be at the forefront of that one. Especially since the last few missions had such a split record for his team. 

But Booster wasn’t on his way to China with the others. He was in the airspace between Syria and Khandaq and he was closing in on a border that was not the most receptive to superheroes from other nations. Especially not members of the Justice League, even the Justice League International. 

His mind filled with reasons that this was all a very bad idea and yet Booster has never been a man to follow logic all that closely. 

Not when he felt like the right thing, the most straightforward thing, was right ahead of him. And that was that a friend—someone he personally knew was going through a lot of stress and personal heartache right now—is in the crosshairs of a madman. 

Power Girl needed him, so that was where Booster Gold was going to be. 

He just hoped he ended the situation in as many pieces as he started it in. 

The skies were clear over the deserts and mountains for as far as Booster could see. But he still recognized the cracks of lightning and the booms of strong forces colliding. That was a physical and possibly magical situation up ahead of him and there was a significant risk from that. 

Black Adam, like many in the Marvel Family, had powers physically on par with Kryptonians like Power Girl. Booster wasn’t completely sure who would win in an all-out brawl between Superman and Captain Marvel, let alone between Black Adam and Power Girl. He wasn’t even certain that they knew. 

But the Marvels had access to magic, and magic was one thing that no Kryptonian, from their universe or any of the plenty of others Booster had visited in his travels, was immune to.^[2]

If Karen had gotten in too deep and was fighting with Adam, then the dark Marvel would not hesitate to press his advantages with her. 

“Great great great great,” Booster muttered to himself repeatedly, trying to muster up as many creative solutions to their situation as possible, when he noticed familiar blue armor hovering in the near distance. “Jaime!” he called out.

Quickly, Jaime spun around and looked at Booster wildly. The yellow optics of the scarab’s armor almost seemed to bug out more than usual. He waved Booster down worriedly. 

“Whoa, you came quick!” Jaime said in surprise. 

“I have resources,” Booster answered with purposeful obtuseness, even though Jaime knew better than most about Rip. He glanced around, searching for any signs of Power Girl. “Where is she?”

“Yeah, while I called you, Black Adam yelled and there was a big blast,” Jaime said, waving toward the Khandaqi terrain. “I haven’t gotten too many glimpses of them. They pop up now and again but not for long. I don’t think they’re throwing punches? But I can’t tell. Mostly they seem to be avoiding touching ground anywhere.”

Booster nodded as though any of that meant anything to him in the anxiety of the moment or that he even heard it clearly with blood still rushing to his ears. “And you’ve still not crossed the border, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaime shifted uncomfortably. It was obviously not a simple ask of him. “Power Girl made it pretty clear it would make things worse, but…”

“No buts, she’s absolutely right,” Booster agreed, sounding harsher than he intended. “She knows what she’s doing and I’m just here to give backup if she needs it. There’s no reason to get you involved.”

“I mean, I’m kind of already here,” Jaime pointed out.

Booster put his hands on his hips and stared at Jaime sternly. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he had absolutely nothing intelligent to argue that point with. 

Jaime looked ready to make another comment when a thundering clap broke the silence for them. It was enough to have both heroes spin around in amazement and slight horror as dust clouds began to billow from a nearby mountain. 

“Okay, I’m going over there,” Booster declared. He pointed an accusatory finger in Jaime’s face. “Stay. Here.”

“Seriously?” Jaime asked, annoyance tight in his voice. “You guys put me on the Justice League, remember?”

“Yeah, because you’re smarter than the rest of us, now hang back and let me do the dumb stuff,” Booster argued before crossing into Khandaq airspace and ignoring the blaring alarms in his head declaring this a bad idea. 

However, fortunately or unfortunately, Booster had made a habit of ignoring those alarm bells.

Batman did not get monitor duty in the Watchtower. 

Even beyond the small core team, the reserves were plentiful enough, that charter members typically didn’t have monitor duty as a rule of sorts. There were enough things happening in the world at any one time, and the entire point of monitor duty was that there was a need to understand that many of the League’s most accomplished members weren’t always available. 

Batman was everywhere these days. Which, as it translated, meant he was almost nowhere. 

Sitting at the controls of the Watchtower gave Batman access to equipment and people to a degree that couldn’t be matched by even the Batcave. It was a fact. And if he had multiple teams working across the planet at once, he needed somewhere to be simultaneously connected to all of them. 

Superman was dealing with an alien invasion around the asteroid belt. Wonder Woman was at an important closed session of the United Nations. Martian Manhunter was in Washington, D.C. dealing with the fallout of a tremendous legal undertaking. Both active Flashes were occupied with evacuation efforts.

And Bat-Man of China had sent Batman a message of interest. His covert mission for the JLI had still not reached mainland China despite the plane Batman chartered for them landing half an hour ago. 

Sighing, Bruce rubbed at his eyes. Somehow, he felt like he should have foreseen something like this happening. 

He began looking up access to security camera footage for their connecting flight to see if he can work out the kink remotely. 

The door to the monitor room, though, interrupted him by being kicked in.

“Bats!” Gardner screeched at the top of his lungs.

“Guy,” Batman replied flatly, continuing to type at the computers without turning around. “You’re supposed to be on your way to China.”

“What the fuck for? Another one of your Batman Inc. buddies?” Guy snarled, pushing his way on through. “You think I can’t see what’s going on here?”

Batman grunted, receiving the answers he didn’t want to the Hong Kong terminal. The cameras were not wirelessly connected, it seemed. It would take longer for him to key into the system. He turned and faced Guy just enough to acknowledge his presence. 

“Is your question rhetorical?” Batman asked sharply.

With a sneer on his face, Guy folded his arms and stopped just short of striking range for Batman. He, apparently, learnt after all. 

“You put Booster up to getting the gang back together,” Guy surmised.

“We both agreed that it was necessary to combat whatever plans Max Lord had,” Batman answered.

“Then you kicked all this money toward it, just like you do every other team that you’ve ever come across,” Guy continued.

“I am graced with the ability to do so,” Batman replied, almost curious about where Guy was leading this conversation. 

“And you’re not even going to be a part of it,” Guy determined coldly. 

“I am on reserve status for all of my active commitments,” Batman reminded him. “I set my priorities.”

“And when you can’t get to the others, you’re gonna use whoever’s lowest on the totem pole to patch up and band-aid whatever the other neglected work is, right?” Guy snapped. “You got everyone that’s on our team back in this because we want to take that motherfucker off the streets. We want him to answer for the bullshit he’s done. It’s important to us.” Guy’s eyes narrowed so thin Batman couldn’t even make out the color of his eyes. “And you know what’s happened every little mission so far? We’ve been playing catch up to whatever activities your pet project Batman Inc. is doing for you.” He snorted and shook his head. “Or you wanna call it Batman International now?”

“The network I established for Batman Inc. has months of establishment ahead of the new JLI,” Batman said in low tones. “It also has several international members located in significant locations—locations that your team has identified as being of interest for Maxwell Lord. It would be negligent and harmful to the cause to ignore those kinds of assets.”

Guy shook his head, arms unfolding to bring his shaking fists to his sides. “You still, after all these years, don’t get it, do you?”

“I don’t get what, Guy? Enlighten me,” Batman snapped back, unable to help himself. “And make it quick, I’m looking out for your team—”

“You’re not able to look out for anyone because you’re too busy being everywhere , you massive tool!” Guy roared. “God, this is why I can’t fucking stand you elitist assholes up here in this godforsaken tower! You’re all like this!”

“Like what?” Batman demands.

Guy threw a thumb toward his chest and gritted his teeth. “What team am I a part of?” he barked out.

“You are an accomplished member of the Green Lantern Corps, and you have working affiliation with several—”^[3]

“No, you dick, what team am I a part of?” Guy pressed.

Batman stared back at him expectantly before answering. “You’re a member of the Justice League International.”

For emphasis, Guy began counting on his fingers. “Booster? Justice League International. Fire? Justice League International. Ice? JLI.” His face became stony. “Elongated Man? Mister Miracle and Big Barda? Blue Beetle? There’s no picking and choosin’ with any of us. Not like you guys. People know where we are. Maybe not every person who was on our team.” His brow wrinkled even more and he scowled. “Especially with you. But the rest of us? Those of us who are always coming back and holding true? People know what team we’re a part of. That’s why I trust them.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Batman asked seriously. 

“Not with my family, I don’t,” Guy said darkly. “Not anymore. So if you’re going to be using your assets to tell us where to go and what to do, you sure as fuck better be explaining in person why we’re doing these things. Because when you leave us out of the loop and try playing these chess games with us without keeping us informed,” a shadow lingers over Guy’s features as he looks down his nose at Batman, “Historically, Bruce, that’s been bad for the people I care about. And I’m not like Booster. I’m not going to hold back. And I’ll make sure that Superman’s not around to take the hit for you.”^[4]

Batman glared back at Guy silently for a long few moments. “What do you want, Guy? For me to resign from the team?”

“I want you on it or off it, enough of the half-measures and secret agents,” Guy reiterated. “If you don’t make a choice, I’ll make it for you and blow the whole thing up myself. I’ll take Max on my way, kill him or die trying, but there won’t be anymore accidents that involve my friends.”

“That almost sounds like a strategy,” Batman says. He glanced at the monitor. He wasn’t expecting anything to catch his eye, but it did. He got to his feet. “Guy, get to China.”

“Just give me a fucking answer and I’ll decide whether or not I’ll go on that dumb trip already!” Guy blasted back.

“Shut up! Get to China, the team’s in trouble!” Batman roared in return, causing Guy to finally snap out of his argumentative mode. “Go! Now!”

Padded as her new suit was, its fabric singed and smoked after the latest blast. 

Karen regained her composure, altitude far lower than she started the spat with, and she looked down to her chest and abdomen where the white fabric was blackened and frayed. Her gloved hands reached for them and tested the material tentatively. It was hot, but not melted. 

Better than dealing with it being her skin. 

“I just got this suit,” she sighed to herself. 

Putting on a brave face, she looked up and faced Black Adam’s demeaning scowl as he hovered above her. His arms were still crossed and his face still clouded by his pointed features. At the very least, there wasn’t sadistic enjoyment on his face the way most people who land good hits on Kryptonians got. 

It simply made his actions all the more transparent. 

“I won’t be making your decision for you here, Adam,” she told him, straightening herself out and allowing her cape to fly freely behind her. She steeled herself, expression set and serious. “You want me to strike back or to step out of line to help make it easy for you. To give you an excuse to make a decision you know is poor. But I won’t. I know you.” Her frowned tightens as genuine regret swelled within her. “I did know you. Once upon a time.”

“You know nothing, Power Girl,” Black Adam snapped harshly. “You know less than nothing, or else you would have realized that you already stepped out of line when you trespassed on Khandaq without invitation.”

Aggravation coursing through her, Karen flew upward, meeting Adam at his height. She banged on her chest. “Then strike me with your own hands!” she dared. “Do that or speak to me like an equal. I won’t continue to be poked and prodded into action I don’t want to do.”

He sneered. “You are here because you believe you can change my mind, that I am vulnerable to political persuasion like a dullard. It is an insult to myself and to all Khandaqi people.”

“I am here because I have had concerns brought to me, nothing more or less,” Karen countered. “At this time I am only concerned about the Khandaqi people. Just as I know you are, Adam. That is it.”

As much as she despised her past with Oracle and detested how easily Oracle had maneuvered her into this situation, Power Girl trusted the information broker’s facts without question. If there was an operative brave enough to work in Khandaq, and they went dark, then there was likely a problem. 

But if that person had still not so much as come up in all of Black Adam’s rantings so far, and he hadn’t picked up any of Karen’s hints, then the operative’s cover wasn’t totally blown. There was a chance that they were safe and Karen had served as a perfect distraction for whatever was happening. 

She hoped. 

She hoped it wasn’t something more complex, like Black Adam not being involved whatsoever because then this had been a bad trip all around. 

“You have no right to speak of caring for my people when the only care and concern they have received from the world in centuries has been from me,” he snarled. “Are you concerned that I am the one who is bad for my people?”

Biting back on her molars, Karen tried to think of a way out of her current landmines. 

But she didn’t get long because a bright, gold concussive blast flashed through the air, beat into Adam’s chest and worked to actually send Adam a few feet backward. 

“Oh, no,” Karen said, mortified as she looked simultaneously with Adam toward the source of the blast. She didn’t even need to see the brilliant navy and gold to know what’s happening. 

“Back away from Power Girl!” Booster Gold yelled at Black Adam.

To his credit, Black Adam looked more stunned by Booster’s audacity than anything else. He stayed utterly still. 

The moment she had feeling in her limbs, Karen blasted off from her spot, smacking as hard into Booster as possible, folding him over her shoulder like a towel, and continuing to fly with every ounce of power in her toward the borders of Khandaq. She could all but hear the wheeze of Booster’s lungs getting the air knocked out of them from the impact.

“You absolute moron! You colossal idiot! You complete nightmare!” Karen was screeching. 

“Wait—“ Booster coughed.

He didn’t get his warning out before Karen felt the massive hand close in around her ankle. She knew it was Black Adam and things were about to be painful for at least one of them.

Knowing she could take the punches more, Karen grabbed Booster by the scruff of his neck and sent him sailing across the airspace of Khandaq and toward where Jaime should be waiting. It was mere seconds before she was yanked by her ankle backward and into Black Adam’s awaiting full body hold. 

“You strike the ruler of a sovereign nation!?” he growled, sending them both diving toward the mountaintops. 

“You pompous asshole, I’ve wanted to since I got here, but since this dance has already been started I might as well as take my chance!” Power Girl growled back, blowing a gust of arctic breath across Adam’s face. 

The burning cold immediately caused Adam to flinch. That was all the time Karen needed.

She put weight into her elbow, arching back into the strike to Adam’s kidney. He loosened and she broke out of his hold after slamming her heel into his knee.

At this point, it was all a matter of gaining time. Split second advantages were all she could hope for and she hoped to use them.

With her heat vision, she ignited the tail of his cape then burst into Mach speeds in the air. 

As soon as she crossed the border, Karen grabbed Booster under one arm and Jaime under the other, speeding off with booms of the sound wave behind them. 

They crossed into the Mediterranean Sea before Karen dared to slow down. 

“MORON!” Was the first thing she yelled before throwing Booster into the choppy waters below with a tremendous splash.

The damage was done, though. Part of Karen knew it was already a done deal, but if there ever was doubt it was gone now. 

Khandaq was in play for Maxwell Lord’s new Checkmate.

The questions that Mister Lord was having B3 ask Midrab—or Sooraya, really, it was foolish to think of the woman as a superhero when she was pulling apart her life bit by bit. 

Mister Lord’s... order... for Sooraya to answer B3’s questions wore off after two hours of interrogation, but B3 had prepared for that. She had learned the location of Sooraya’s lockpicks and other tools, and made sure to remove them from the woman’s reach. 

The woman was attractive enough, B3 supposed, with long, dark hair, and keen brown eyes once she removed the ridiculous goggles and the wrapping that covered her facial features. 

Mister Lord had called twice, to tell her that he was leaving for China, and giving her instructions to transport Sooraya back to Checkmate Headquarters once the next plane arrived. 

“So what’s your real name?” Sooraya called, from where she was handcuffed to the towel rack in the bathroom. B3 hadn’t wanted to risk moving her out of the suite, for fear of alerting the Khandaqis to her prisoner. 

B3 kept her face composed, and ignored the woman while carefully loading the woman’s equipment into her suitcase. It took special handling—she had already been electrocuted three times. Mild shocks, but she hadn’t liked how Sooraya had smirked, each time. It was why she had moved the woman to the bathroom. 

B3 knew she wasn’t a field agent, but Mister Lord had put his trust in her, the Black King had entrusted her with this assignment, had trusted her with being his right hand. She could handle this, no matter how many knowing grins that Sooraya had thrown her way. 

“You know he hired you because you’re pretty, right?” Sooraya called. “You’re what, research? You’re a paper pusher, you barely know how to use that gun—”

“Shut up,” B3 snapped. 

“I mean, who can blame him, after hanging out with supermodels for so long,” Sooraya said. “I mean, you’re not as pretty as Fire or Booster Gold—”

“I said, shut up!” B3 shouted, striding into the bathroom. She’s heard it for years , but it had stopped at Checkmate, because she was the best damn codebreaker they had, even Amanda Waller had complimented her work, and so what if her marks at the range weren’t as good as some—

Legs wrapped around her waist and yanked her close, and she let out a surprised cry, despite herself as she was pulled forward, her pretty shoes that Mister Lord had insisted upon for this mission useless on the tile. 

Sooraya had pulled herself up by her arms, to give her the leverage to snag B3, to pull her in, then she had taunted B3 until she came in with her guard down, and she had fallen for it. 

Sooraya smiled at her, a moment before she yanked the towel rack off the wall, and slammed it, handcuffs and all, against B3’s head. 

“Sorry darling,” Sooraya said, dropping B3 to the floor, where she stayed, dazed. “I’m sure you have plenty of qualities besides your looks, but Lord is a creep.” 

“I—”

“If it helps, you’re definitely prettier than Booster Gold. Jury’s out on Fire, though.” She strode out of the bathroom, and the cuffs fell to the ground a moment later, while B3 struggled to get to her feet, the room spinning around her from the blow. 

Before she could make it, though, Midrab was standing in the doorway, her armor, belt, mask, and goggles restored. 

“Well, good luck, darling, but I sincerely hope we never meet again,” Midrab said, throwing a pellet on the ground. 

B3 lunged forward, trying to get out of the smoke, but she was too slow, and she woke up, respectfully tucked into the bed, half an hour later, with no sign of the Bat. 

“Mister Lord,” she said, blurting into the phone the moment she wakes up. “She—”

“Escaped? Huh, I owe Bern five bucks, I thought you’d have lost her five hours ago.” 

“I—sir?” 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’d have loved it if you could have brought her back, but really, she serves her purpose just as well free. And our new ally will be very pleased at whatever information we can give him about a Bat operating within his borders... I doubt she’ll be much trouble for long.” 

“I—see,” B3 spluttered, flushing at Mister Lord’s lack of faith in her. “I’ll—where shall I meet you, sir?” 

“As much fun as it would be to see you wearing one of those—oh, not kimonos, what are they called? Those little dress things.”

“A qipao, sir,” B3 said, her voice strained. 

She could hear his fingers snap. “Right, that. As fun as that sounds, really, the situation in China is pretty well wrapped up. Report to the White King, he’ll provide you with transportation back to headquarters.”

The White King? The White King was dead, had betrayed Mister Lord and sided with the Justice League. There was no White King, no White Queen, no Black Queen... there was only Mister Lord. 

“Sir?”

“Oh, right, you missed that part. Black Adam has graciously accepted our offer and has agreed to join Checkmate as White King.”

“Oh,” B3 said, blankly. “I—congratulations, sir.” 

“I had thought about Tabu for Black Queen, but really, she’s so bad at taking initiative. Poison might be a bit of a bitch, but she’ll do great, don’t you think?”

“Of course, sir.” B3 said, trying not to think about the number of bodies she’d already had to deal with coming out of Doctor Poison’s laboratory.  

“Right, well, enough rambling, get to it, B3. Call me when you’re back at Headquarters, and tell Adam that I told him he couldn’t trust the Justice League to respect his sovereignty.” 

He hung up, leaving B3 with a lot of discomforting questions.

Gavril stepped up to where his teammates stood and tapped on Tora’s shoulder. She turned and smiled at him, more on instinct than anything, and sent one more protective glance Bea’s way before completely turning. 

“Hello, Red,” Tora said brightly. “Where is Atom?”

“He is trying to help,” Gavril explained. “Put me in charge.”

Tora pursed her lips. “How can he do that when Fire is in charge?” She asked just before Fire released a furious roar and slammed her hands down on the receptionist’s desk again. It didn’t even make Tora flinch. “Ah, in charge of us , I see now.”

“Da,” Gavril chuckled. “No big deal.”

She smiled pleasantly again, eyes darting over Gavril’s shoulder. “Oh, there he is! I hope it is good news!”

When he turned around, Gavril was expecting the American-made hero to be his usual embodiment of collectiveness and serious business. He was, after all, the supposed responsible one of their ragtag team. But he didn’t see that overwhelming calm when he looked over. 

Instead, what Gavril saw is Nate stalking over toward them like a man possessed. His body was squared, jaw set, and his muscles tensed as his shoulders hunched forward. His eyes were narrowed angrily and his fists were clenched, radiating with sparks of energy.

Around the Captain’s eyes were cracks forming in his synthetic disguise — little bolts of blue lightning breaking out and growing, splintering across his features as energy pulsed free of him. 

Tora tensed beside Gavril. “Oh, dear,” she worried. “What is he doing?”

“Maybe got bad news?” Gavril asked hopefully, his hand tentatively over his wrist where his gauntlet was hidden beneath a thick coat. With a few buttons, his honing device would bring his armor to him, but only if they were truly blowing their covers. What cover that a green haired woman spewing literal steam hadn’t already blown, of course.

“I am putting you under arrest once and for all for crimes against humanity, Beatriz da Costa!” Nate yelled, loudly enough that it drew the attention of what people in the airport terminal who hadn't noticed the grown man cackling with radiation. 

Gavril and Tora looked at each other in confusion. 

Beatriz, still animatedly leaning into the counter of the receptionist, didn’t turn automatically. Instead, she glanced just enough over her shoulder that Gavril could see the fire literally glint in her eye. 

She looked Gavril over before becoming simultaneously engulfed in flames. Her green fire was sent blasting against Nate’s body.

“It’s Max! He’s here somewhere!” Beatriz screamed out over the roaring flames.

Gavril didn’t need much more encouragement than that to press his gauntlet and send his armor toward him. “Ice, go, find Max!”

“You’re not battle ready and Fire needs help!” Tora argued, encasing herself in ice before it broke off into her usual costume. “You find Max, I’ll help Fire!” She took off without leaving space to argue, managing to put two thick barriers of ice between the fray and the escaping pedestrians. It was a good call since Nate has broken through his synthetic skin and began blasting explosive force back at Fire.

An entire wall that kept the terminal separate from the airfield was gone before Gavril’s armor reached him. He suited up quickly, but all he could think of was his lost time and his assignment from Nate.

“Watch the girls,” he repeated to himself before blasting through the air toward the fight. 

Tora was maintaining control of the crowds with her ice walls. She yelled something. at Gavril as he flew overhead but didn’t follow.

Bea was out through the hole in the terminal that Nate had made. She was in the air, fully aflame in green fire, as she dodged and ducked away from Nate’s blasts. But it wasn’t going to be enough, Gavril could already tell.

Captain Atom was a hero in terms of power among Superman and Captain Marvel by most measures. He had speed, flight, and overwhelming control of electromagnetic waves as well as his own radiation. 

And, judging by the thud made when he rammed into Bea, Nate hit with the impact of a train. 

The AstroTurf cratered and cracked when Beatriz hit it, and she was out, at the very least winded. And, for Gavril, that simply wouldn’t do. 

With a whir of his suit’s engines, Gavril impacted with his out of control teammate with immense power and speed. Enough to pull the Captain off course and further out into the airfield. The further away from the airport and people, the better, after all. 

“Free yourself, Captain Atom!” Gavril ordered as he laid on hit after hit on his American friend. “You are not Lord’s! You are Justice League International!”

“I belong to the United States Air Force, commie scum!” Atom declared. 

When Atom’s fist connected with the side of Gavril’s helmet, his HUD screen temporarily went offline, his head jerked with the momentum, and his entire body began spiraling toward the ground below. There was a crackle of danger and electricity in Gavril’s ears as he nearly made impact.

At the last minute, his view screen came back online, and Gavril activated his flight at the last moment. His systems were still flickering in responsiveness, sluggish, unlike usual physical damage. 

But, having trained with the Russian Rocket Red program, Gavril had been made familiar with this type of interference. His heart sank and he turned the Richter reading on his HUD.

Taking a deep breath, Gavril realized exactly what state they’re in and looked down the airfield toward Bea and Tora. The latter had gotten the former to her feet but they were a decent distance away. Not enough. 

“Justice League!” Gavril yelled down the way toward them. It was enough to get them to look up at him. “It is an honor!”

“What? Gavril! Wait!” Bea shouted back, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

After all, Gavril had made his mind up, the same mind that had dedicated itself still to the tenants of the Soviet Union years after the collapse of the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Bloc. He related to Captain Atom in that way, and in that they both wanted to serve however was best.

He hoped Atom, when he inevitably recovered, would continue to do that. 

Using all of the reserve power in his suit, Gavril launched forward and hit Atom at full speed. The other had no time to react before they were rocketing toward the air at top speeds. Atom thrashed and dented every bit of Gavril’s armor that he could reach, but the Rocket Red held true.

“I am so sorry, my friend,” Gavril apologized emphatically as they reached into the stratosphere. “I hope you get Lord for this.”

The moment his suit’s power source reached its maximum capacity, the radiation feeding from the Rocket Red form to the cool blues of Captain Atom and vice versa, Gavril closed his eyes, and ripped open the already breached chest piece. 

He saw nothing but brilliant white and felt nothing but heat. Then it was over.

Chapter Text

He arrived on our planet not of his own will.^[1]

Once he had been but a normal citizen, a son, a husband, a father, but loss and war had brought him nearly to the brink of destruction along with the entirety of his species. But still he pressed on!

For there was one belief, one immutable trait that nothing could break from him – he believed in hope and he believed in life.

He was J’onn Jonzz! And once on Earth, a new home filled with new, strange, and endlessly fascinating people, he also became the MARTIAN MANHUNTER!

There was a saying, that there was “no Justice League” when there was no Martian Manhunter, he had been there from their start. They – each team unique and powerful in their own ways – were his evidence of hope in a new century and in a new world.

Perhaps that was why there was no more painful loss in current days than that of a member of the Justice League. 

Hope, it seemed, was finite after all. And each loss chipped away a little more.

J’onn had been to far too many funerals since arriving on Earth. 

He’d sat Shiva for some and gone to church for others. He’d sang in choirs and carried caskets, he’d given eulogies. He’d watched spouses and lovers and children, friends and colleagues be consumed in grief. 

He remembered Booster, openly weeping after being unable to say a single word to eulogize the most important man in his life. He remembered Beatriz, slumped and motionless in a chair, holding Guy’s hand, both of them with no tears left as they stared at Ice’s casket. He remembered Ralph Dibny’s face, the man barely able to keep himself together, as he buried his wife. 

Grief was an old friend by this point. It had journeyed with him from Mars, where his wife and daughter were buried, their song carried only by him now. He had lived a long, long time, and been on many teams. He played no favorites, he took no sides. He went to every funeral. 

This was the first funeral for this new, reformed Justice League. He doubted it would be the last. 

So many of his old, dear friends, gone. Some had come back, over the years, but plenty had left, perhaps forever. 

Resurrections were temperamental, and they seemed to fall at random, and so often, the least deserving seemed to receive it, while the best of them remained within the unforgiving Earth. 

Maxwell Lord lived. But Ted Kord remained dead. So did Ralph and Sue Dibny, Scott Free and Big Barda, Dmitri... 

Yes. Death was an old friend, for J’onn J’onzz.    

The grief here was quiet and subdued, heads bent and faces pale. 

It was just the JLI, the Rocket Reds, and a small press pool and some Russian government officials. It was not a media event, and there was  no presence of the community, outside of the team. Gavril had no family, and few connections with the larger superhero community. 

They had brought him back to Russia, because the leadership demanded it. Despite his checkered history with the Russian government,^[2] he was being hailed as a hero who died in the line of duty, and so he was being buried in the official Rocket Red Cemetery, his coffin draped in a Russian flag. 

Nate was nowhere to be seen. J’onn was not sure if Booster told him not to come, or if he simply decided not to attend on his own will. There was no inclination from the Russian officials that they didn’t want him here... but perhaps, in the end, Nathan’s absence would have been the correct choice. Bruce had also chosen to stay back. The mission in China could not be so easily left behind, even if the first attempt had failed spectacularly. Bruce Wayne was now inspecting a factory in Beijing, and hopefully, he would be able to make contact with the agent. 

A Russian spokesman of some sort—apparently the bureaucrat who ran the Rocket Red program—spoke about the values of the program, and how Gavril had upheld them valiantly. He spoke of international cooperation, of expanding Russia’s role abroad, and plenty of other words that carried with them socio-political implications. 

Already, J’onn knew, there had been no less than three calls from the Russian government, requesting the placement of a new Rocket Red on the team. Booster had too much press training to refuse outright, but J’onn had seen him shredding the resumes, shaking with fury. 

Booster, now, sat in the front row, his head bowed. Guilt radiated off his old friend so heavily that it did not take a psychic to notice. 

He was thinking, J’onn was sure, of a nuclear submarine in Metropolis, of the way he had managed to contain it with his forcefield, and if he would have been able to contain Nathan, had he been there, with them, rather than in Khandaq, desperately trying to protect Karen, who out of all of them, arguably needed the least protection. 

Guy sat next to him, his face stony, but the way he rolled his ring around his finger told J’onn the true story. Guy was not as unaffected as he was attempting to look. The man had never been good at expressing emotion that wasn’t anger, at least not to people that weren’t his chosen family. And with the eyes of the press on him, the man was not going to be his best self, not when he carried the same guilt that Booster did. His ring could also contain radiation. It might have made all the difference.

Tora had been weeping, but the impersonal eulogy had given her a break. Instead, she turned towards Beatriz, holding her hand tightly, as if trying to get Beatriz to contain her anger, her grief. 

Jaime sat on Booster’s other side, looking uncomfortable at being in his armor at a funeral. His helmet meant that his face was unreadable, but he had rarely seemed so young to J’onn. 

Karen sat next to Jaime, her cape black for the occasion, her expression cold and unreadable. She was furious—furious about Khandaq, about Booster’s interference, about Gavril’s death, about Max’s involvement, about the fact that the mission to China failed. For now, her anger had conquered her grief, had kept it at bay, but J’onn knew that it would abate, and that she would feel the loss, as the rest of them do. 

J’onn made the speech from the JLI. 

Over the years, J’onn had given a variation of the speech far too often. He spoke of Gavril’s heroism, his courage, his selflessness. He spoke of the man’s dedication to maintenance of his armor, his protectiveness of his friends, his idealism, although he carefully did not say that his idealism had been not in the service of Russia, but the USSR. 

It was a short version of the speech. What else could he say? He had not met the man before Booster had come to him, asking him to return to the team that had consumed so much of his life, the team that he had turned his back on when Max Lord had come back. His life had intersected with J’onn’s so briefly, that he had not really known him. 

But of two things, he had no doubt. 

The first was this, that Max Lord had killed him, using Captain Atom as his weapon of choice. 

The second: was that Gavril was, and always would be, a member of the Justice League International. 

The moment they were out of the range of even the best camera, Booster headed in the opposite direction of the rest of his League. 

He wasn’t even sure where he had picked up the habit of referring to them as his League. They weren’t, not really, and the more whittled away they were the more the pounding, hurtful reminder comes that they aren’t and never could again be the Justice League International . 

How could they ever be when they had been falsely strung together and frauded into their place in history by Max? 

“Booster, where are you going?” Jaime asked almost immediately, moving to follow him.

Despite himself, Booster stopped midair and turned around to face Jaime. He liked the kid, and couldn’t help but feel the obligation to at least give him an explanation. “Same thing you should be doing, kid. Heading home,” he answered with the bitterness eating at his every word.

By the time Booster finished his words and was ready to head on his way toward a rendezvous point with a portal back to Time Lab, the rest of the League were gathered and staring at him. The general mood seemed to be disdain, which was fine. Booster had cultivated a good amount of resistance toward it at this point. 

Still, he was a little surprised that J’onn spoke up before anyone else. “I believe there are important matters to address with the team before we make any other moves,” J’onn said almost sagely.

“Okay, sounds great,” Booster replied dryly. “You guys are welcome to them.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Guy snarled, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes in an overly expressive display. “I fucking hate it when he gets like this.”

“Get like what, Guy?” Booster snapped, rising to the bait. 

“Like the moodiest asshole the world has ever known!” Guy bit back. His hand shifted, his ring coming to rest in place before he lifted to meet Booster in the air with a soft green glow. “The same thing you do when the rest of us are feeling like shit but having to deal with it.”

“Please,” Tora begged, hugging her arms as she stepped closer to the two of them. “Please do not fight. J’onn’s right. We have to discuss things.”

“Discussion isn’t in Booster’s repertoire,” Karen mocked, her eyes narrowed angrily on Booster like they had been for most of the day already. Somehow, miraculously, they worked to make Booster feel even smaller than he already did. “He’s definitely a leap in first and to hell with the consequences kind of person! No matter how many goddamn times it blows up in his face!”

“Yeah, Karen, guess I am! Got me all figured out over there, I can already tell!” Booster yelled back.

“Let’s try to keep it down, guys,” Jaime said, voice unbearably low as he fanned his hands at them. 

“Hey, don’t yell at her, she’s the only one who can hold their own here besides me apparently!” Guy said, close enough to shove Booster’s shoulder. 

Booster clenched his jaw and made to strike Guy back only for a burst of energy to hit him in the face. His forcefield activated with a puff and covered him just in the nick of time, just as Guy’s construct protected him. 

The greenish glow diminished just in time for Booster to see the source of the blast.

Beatriz, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the day’s proceedings, glared darkly up at all of them. Her flames licked at the air surrounding her, green and dangerous. They contrasted with deep black shadows that hang beneath her features. 

“Do not make this funeral more of a circus than it already is,” she warned them. “He deserved better. He was one of us.”

Fire or not, the collective oxygen seemed to have been eaten up by Bea’s cold warnings. Guy and Booster both dropped to their feet, powered down and at least somewhat remorseful. 

It surprised Booster at least some when Bea then took her righteous anger and turned it toward J’onn.

“And you expect us to go home and discuss more business? After this?” she snapped at him, disgusted and surprised. 

“Of course not,” J’onn said firmly.

Booster squinted at the Martian and tilted his head. “Wait, if you don’t mean business, what important matters do we need to discuss?”

He felt like he should know without getting cheat answers from J’onn. But that would probably be the marks of a strong and good leader. Booster, apparently, hadn’t accomplished that. 

J’onn looked into Booster’s eyes and held his gaze. It could be difficult to tell with J’onn’s expression, but Booster could still recognize pity when he saw it. At least, he was pretty sure he did.

“I believe what we need to discuss is more akin to therapy,” J’onn explained patiently. 

There was a collective breath from the team, but no verbal objections. It was difficult to make a specific read on his teammates, but Booster couldn’t help but feel they were as uncomfortable as him. 

While Batman Inc. had kept Bruce in near constant rotation between other members around the world, there has been a uniformity that kept him grounded. The caves or bungalows or subterranean lairs that acted as most of the Batmen’s bases of operation were consistent in their technology and structure. They would have to be, as they were on Bruce’s dime. 

But that could not be said for Shanghai. 

Cassandra had given adequate reporting on the progress of building a relationship between Batman Inc. and the Chinese home-grown hero Bat-Man. She even had been kind enough in her recorded notes to tell Bruce what Baixi Wang’s favorite restaurant was so that Bruce could buy him dinner. 

That as it may, Cass was an excellent observer of people and less so of her physical surroundings.

Unlike other Batmen of the world, Wang was sanctioned by a government entity. It was a new Justice League branch—one with no known affiliation with the American or United Nations branches, but there lay the complexities of international copyright law—that was being constructed with avatars analogous to the founding members of the Justice League of America. 

This meant that the technology, the support networks, and the infrastructure was already provided for by the Chinese. It also meant that the government owned and controlled those things. 

Bat-Man of China was a governmental agent.^[3] Not a vigilante. 

It made building genuine relationships with Batman Inc. far more difficult. Bruce was not nearly as comfortable obeying the whims of any one government. Not, at least, in this way. 

When he snuck up behind the younger Bat, Bruce couldn’t resist the automatic sizing up. The blue suit was too bright for the use of subtle darkness and night that Batman was known for, and even more garish were the blazoned gold stars across the attire. He was shorter and rounder than Bruce could ever remember being, but from what Bruce knew, that made sense considering the Bat-Man was more boy than man, still a teenager. His wideness was still muscle mass, and just by the way he held a wide stance, Bruce could see he was a well-prepared fighter. 

They were in a laboratory with sleek, high-end technology—likely the best that governments could buy—and Baixi Wang was working comfortably with it. He had his cowl on, even in the facility, which denoted some privacy or perhaps at least savvy about a hero’s need for privacy. 

Or, perhaps, it was because of the cameras which Oracle had hacked and put on loop so that Bruce was not captured on them.

“Bat-Man of China,” Bruce said in a low growl.

Tensing immediately, Baixi nearly jumped out of his seat, but kept low and turned to look just over his shoulder. He let out a breath he was holding in relief.

Bruce found that interesting, since few people sighed in relief at the sight of Batman sneaking up on them. 

“I was, ah, questioning when you would meet me,” Baixi said in well-rehearsed English. He got to his feet and ducked his head, the beginnings of a bow, before catching himself and offering out his hand. “It is an honor.”

A pedant for tradition himself, Bruce bowed forward and nodded to Baixi before taking his hand. “The honor is mine.” As he shook Baixi’s hand, Bruce could see the subtle tilt of Bat-Man’s cowl indicating he was looking toward the high corners of the laboratory. “Don’t worry about the security cameras. I have an associate you are familiar with already working on covering them.”

“Ah, yes, very good,” Baixi said with another sigh. “Your, hm, student has told me much of Oracle and their skills. And what I have seen... they are very impressive.”

Thinking of Cassandra and her year in China, starting out the Network that would become Batman Inc., Bruce huffed fondly.^[4] “She is no longer a student. She’s passed what I can teach her.”

Baixi looked contemplative for a moment then nodded. “I will not waste your time, Batman. I know you are here because we have business. That is important.”

“Yes, it is,” Bruce said grimly. “My team lost a man enroute to receive this information the first time.”

“Terrible,” Baixi agreed, though he was too busy rummaging through the various pieces of technology he had been working on when Bruce showed up to sound the least bit heartfelt. “I believe it is important you see this yourself now, though.”

When the young agent turned around, he was cradling two large components—one in each hand—against his side. He stepped up to Bruce and offered the one in his right hand. 

Bruce took the device, mindful of the jagged metal and the dangling severed wires. His mind mapped its circuits as he turned it over in his hands and then he tried to imagine what all the pieces together would have constructed.

When he looked up to Baixi, his scowl had taken its rightful place. “This is a Wayne Enterprises satellite. I’ve seen our backer, Bruce Wayne, authorize these components.”

“Not just any satellite from Wayne Enterprises,” Baixi informed him, shifting the piece he still had so that Bruce could see the inscribed bat on it. “It is one used for us.”

Slowly, it dawned on Bruce what was truly being said. “The Chinese government knows that there is an agent for Batman Inc. in China,” he concluded. “You have been asked to find the mole.”

“There is a list of suspects,” Baixi said cautiously. “For the time being, I am not on the one they showed me.”

Handing the satellite part back, Bruce looked the young man over. “What do you need me to do?”

“Find out who brought down the satellite,” Baixi advised. “It is good technology. My investigation shows it did not fall on its own. Someone wants China to know about it.” He made a pained expression. “Until the Great Ten and the Ministry of Self-Reliance are content, I cannot help Batman Inc. My loyalties are to China first. I will not endanger that and all I work for, not even to work for Batman.”

It was difficult to hear, especially given how much work that Cassandra had put into building this relationship between them. Not having operations in China was unacceptable for Batman Inc.’s mission. 

But it didn’t mean that Bruce couldn't understand it.

He placed a firm hand on Baixi’s shoulder, getting another jerk of surprise from the boy. But Bruce held firm. “That’s the right decision to make, and it’s important that you made it yourself,” Bruce told him confidently. 

At first Baixi only stared at him in surprise, but, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He straightened up and nodded to Bruce. Then, he clapped his hands as he bolted upright with a thought. “Oh!” 

Pulling away from Bruce’s hand, Baixi turned back to the laboratory table and began rummaging again. He pulled out a piece of metal and then came back to Bruce, holding it out. “This did not match any of the other components. I have been waiting for some metallurgy tests.”

Immediately, Bruce’s blood ran cold. 

“No need,” he said grimly. “I know what it is. And I know who took down the satellite.”  

Reaching out to take the metal, Bruce was surprised when Baixi pulled it out of reach.

“What caused it?” he demanded. “This affects me.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce said, eyes sharpening as he didn't break eye contact with the younger Bat. “You’re not a member of Batman Inc.”

Baixi straightened as if to object only to pause as he realized something was missing. He looked down to his hands and then back around. 

It was no use because Bruce was already gone, along with the piece of metal from the satellite. He’d be out of the facility and away from everything sooner than Baixi would piece together what just happened. 

Bruce couldn’t help but think that it was only a blessing in disguise that Bat-Man of China would not be on the Batman Inc. roster for now. It was better than whatever would come after the other Batmen and Batwomen in the organization if Max Lord had managed to use Brother Eye to hack into Batman Inc. satellites. 

Zambesi, Russia, Khandaq, China—Bruce had been watching Max fill up a chessboard. What he hadn’t been doing is putting together the so obvious in hindsight pieces. Maxwell Lord was setting up relationships for his new Checkmate in the corners of the globe where Batman Inc. was weakest. 

Once again, Maxwell Lord had found Batman’s blind spot. And he knew it could cost the lives of his newly found allies even before he got the alert from Oracle that Batwing—David Zavimbe, still a young man himself—had put out an emergency alert. 

There was something oppressive about the silence in the headquarters. 

Nate was waiting there, his posture horrible for him, slumped in a chair, eyes glued to a screen showing him the playback of the entire incident. 

“Nate,” Tora said, softly. “How often have you watched that?” 

Booster looked away. He’d only been able to watch it once. 

“Not enough,” Nate snapped, jabbing the pause button on the remote with enough force that it probably should shatter if it wasn’t one of the ones that had been specifically modified for people with super strength. 

It had been Ted’s patent, and his company still made it, updated for each new generation of technology, although in Booster’s opinion, it had gotten worse every year that Ted hadn’t been around to do the updates himself. 

But he needed to say something, because Nate? Nate was one of them, and it wasn’t his fault. 

“Max killed him, Nate. Not you.” 

“And I was what?” Nate said, staring at him. “Just the weapon?” 

“No more than Superman was when he broke Wonder Woman’s wrists or Karen was when she kicked our asses,” Booster said. “C’mon, Nate. We know how Max works. He shows you—”

“He didn’t have to show me much,” Nate snapped, looking away. “He can do the most intricate illusions and all he had to do—”

“Was play into your memories,” J’onn said quietly. “Captain, you are hardly to be blamed for remembering the way that things used to be.” 

“I’m a relic,” Nate closed his eyes, but he was under perfect control, even though he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “So was Gavril. Two Cold War soldiers, stuck in the past.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bea said, sharply. “The Nate that we knew back in the 90s—”

“Was a spy,” Nate pointed out. “I was sent here—”

“And I was Max’s poster boy!” Booster snapped. “Bea and Tora joined because they needed a paycheck—so did the Flash, so did half of us, for that matter. Guy joined because he was under some weird illusion he was going to be running the show—”

“Hey!”

“And who the hell knows why J’onn stayed after he saw how much of a disaster we were!”

“Booster—”

“You think you’re a relic, Nate? We’re all relics. Look at us! It’s been a decade, and here we all are. Still dancing to Max’s tune, still scrambling for respect, still fucking up! Half of our former teammates didn’t even want to hear the pitch, because they’re trying so hard to distance themselves from us, the goddamn punchline of the entire superhero community! We’re all stuck in the past.” Booster laughed, hysterical, running his hands through his hair. “Maybe this was a mistake. Thinking that it would be better this time. We’re all just... stuck in the past.”

The silence was so loud that Booster could barely breathe, the anger and hurt that’s been festering for years just... pouring out. 

“I don’t think so,” Jaime said quietly. 

“Jaime—”

“I wasn’t here, I know,” Jaime acknowledged. “But like—that’s what those internet posts were all about, right? Saying you guys haven’t changed. Saying you haven’t learned. But like—you have. I’ve been doing research. Have been since I first came home after our first adventure. And you’ve changed. All of you have. My kid sister adores Guy, thinks he’s the coolest thing ever, except maybe Batgirl, and even then, it depends on the day. She wouldn’t do that for the Guy that the internet was talking about. Because you do care, about your friends. About your family. What you said, about Ted—”

“Hey now,” Guy said, looking alarmed. 

“You said he was the smartest guy you knew. You said he was a good friend.”

The rest of the League turned to Guy, shocked. 

Guy’s ears were a furious shade of red, but he just crossed his arms and didn't deny it, which was... so... weird, for Guy Gardner that Booster almost couldn’t believe it.

“And like, that Godiva lady said you were shallow and stuff, Fire, but you’re a secret agent! You’ve done amazing things! You’re a total badass! And anyone who can’t see why you’re one of the best is just not looking! Same with Tora!” He crossed his arms. “You’re not stuck in the past, you’re still dealing with it. Because this Maxwell Lord, he likes getting under your skin. He likes playing games. And he can push your buttons, because he knows who you used to be. But he doesn’t know you guys. Not really.” 

He shifted, and turned to Nate. “And like, you can be mad at yourself, because maybe a part of you still thinks that way, but if you were in control, you wouldn’t ever have hurt your team! It’s one of the first things I learned about you. That you care about us! And that you’ll take those hits every time. And Gavril would too. That’s why—he made a choice.” 

Jaime breathed. “He made a choice. And he chose to save you from yourself, because if he hadn’t, you’d be here, even more hurt and angry, because Max would have used you to hurt way more people.” 

“He is right,” J’onn said, his voice soft, but the room was so quiet they all heard it anyway. “We are a team. But more than that. We are here because we are a family.” He placed a hand on Booster’s shoulder. “You say we are stuck in the past, Booster? That is because it is what binds us. The past is what has brought us together. But we stay together for more than that. Because we know what Max is capable of. Because we know that we can stop him, even if the rest of the world will not.” 

Booster looked away. 

“I—fine,” he said. “But J’onn...”

“You’re our leader, Booster, whether you like it or not,” J’onn said. “When we have dealt with this crisis, we can perhaps discuss your resignation. But now is not the time.”

Karen looked like she might disagree, but whatever it was she had to say was cut off by Batman entering the conference room.

As Bruce pushed open the door, he could feel the oppressive, raw emotions among all of them. 

In the room the remaining members of the Justice League International, barely more than a skeleton crew compared to years past, were all seated and folded into themselves, deep discussions and intimate confessions no doubt still on the tips of everyone’s tongues. 

They had just buried one of their own and Bruce wasn’t there. He knew this. But he couldn't let it stop him from pushing them forward. 

“Max Lord is making his move and he’s making it now,” Batman informed them. “Batwing, who you worked with in Zambesi, sent out a personal security alarm to the Batman Inc. Network. Then he went dark. This along with Lord’s other movements—”

“Are you serious right now?” Booster burst out. His voice was high, almost pained. He gazed at Bruce in utter disbelief. “Are you actually doing this right now?”

“I’m dead serious,” Bruce snapped back.

“Of course he’s actually doing this,” Guy shouted, slamming his hands on the table as he rose to his feet with a jolt. “I fucking told you, Bats, I told you that you were using as the go-betweens for your personal Batman Inc. crusade and it was gonna get us killed!”

Glaring at Guy, Bruce hoped to push his outbursts back down, but in his periphery he could see that the room was generally in agreement. 

“I explained this to Guy once already, but the rest of you I do owe an explanation,” Batman said slowly, methodically. It was the closest he has ever gotten to being diplomatic when under this level of scrutiny. “When I returned and realized the threat we were under with Max Lord back in play, I knew that the only team capable of stopping him was the one assembled here today.” He looks around at each of them. “But what networking, what tools were available to the old Justice League International were long gone. And your campaign against Max did not give you the global reach this required. Not from any fault of your own, but simply because Max started ahead of us.

“I began Batman Inc. before I came back publicly as Batman. It was in the works, establishing itself globally, before I came to Booster with the plans to reinstate the League,” Batman further explained. “It is more setup and it is less public. It is to help you with the ultimate goal of taking down Maxwell Lord. Not the other way around.”

Everyone was silent, judging, digesting what they just heard. 

Fire was the first to furiously throw her hair over her shoulder and huff as she broke her eye contact with Batman. 

Batman’s eyes focused on her before coming back to Booster standing in front of him. 

“We’re here to stop Max,” Booster said firmly. “If I’m leading this team, I’m going to lead them to whatever world-stopping information or whatever it is that you’ve found. But I can’t keep leading blind-leading-the-blind style. There’s too much at risk, and this team is not a tool in your back pocket. So after this, Batman, you’re going to give me a simple answer to this question.”

Frowning, Bruce tilted his head. “What question, Michael?”

Booster’s eyes narrowed behind his goggles. “Are you a member of this Justice League or not? And don’t answer it now. Because you’ll just say yes to get us moving. Answer it when we’re done. And if it’s yes, then you need to show it.”

“Fine,” Batman answered. 

“So, where are we going?” Ice asked, looking back and forth between them. “Back to Zambesi?”

“No,” J’onn answered before Bruce had the chance. It drew everyone’s attention to the silent Martian as he rose to his feet. “Batman believes that he can trace recent movement around the Checkmate stronghold in Switzerland that would match several private airlines entering.”

The very mention of Switzerland had Booster suck in a deep breath.^[5] He went rigid but otherwise said nothing. It was enough for Bruce to keep an eye on him as he continued.

“Sloppy,” Power Girl said, crossing her arms. 

“Not if you want people to know,” Batman retorts. “This has been a chess match—”

“Yeah no fucking shit,” Guy provides eloquently.

Batman gave him a glare before continuing, “But we never realized what the board encompassed until I got to China. We’re far behind, but that doesn’t mean we can’t put an end to Max’s plans here.”

Composing himself, Booster nodded, hands on his hips and released the breath he was holding. He looked at the team. “Okay, we’re doing this. I’m done playing tag. Let’s get to the transporters and use the Paris embassy.”

“Red Robin has already set up an airliner for Batman Inc. last year,” Batman suggested. “We would make the flight in two hours.”

The team frowned. 

“Well, we could take the Bug?” Jaime offered. 

The entire team fell silent and turned to stare at their youngest member. 

“The Bug?” Booster finally managed, with a lost expression on his face. 

“Well, yeah!” Jaime said, clearly confused by their lack of understanding. “Oracle helped me get things sorted with Dani Garret,^[6] and so I’ve got it back now. And I parked it in the garage, because I don’t exactly have room for it back home—”

“We have a garage?” Guy whispered to Tora, who shrugged. 

Booster looked at Bruce. “We’ll be there.” 

Then he crossed the room in a few gigantic steps, and picked up Jaime bodily and hugged him tightly. “God, Jaime, you’re really the best superhero ever, aren’t you kid?” 

“Uh, thanks?” Jaime said, looking flustered. 

“Do you even know how to drive the Bug?” Tora frowned. “No offense, Jaime, but Ted was pretty secretive about that thing. I think he had it DNA coded—”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Booster said, waving it off. “My DNA is still in the system unless Oracle did a purge. And Ted taught me how to pilot it ages ago.” 

He turned away, so he missed the frantic, confused gestures that were going between Guy, Tora, and Bea. 

“Can you show me how to pilot it?” Jaime asked, following. “Dani tried, but—”

“Oh man, she’s a piece of work isn’t she? The number of times she called me trying to get me to let her into Ted’s lab—”

The Justice League International walked towards the garage. 

The team was reluctant, looking to Booster rather than Batman. He stood under their gazes and nodded at them.

“For Gavril,” he concluded solemnly. 

They moved, not cohesively like a unit, but close together, comfortably sharing space even in the heights of their emotions. It wasn’t like other teams Bruce led now, or had led in the past. 

Then again, watching Booster take the front of the group, he knew he wasn’t leading this one.

That was the whole point, after all. 

J’onn lingered behind, looking oddly in Bruce’s direction until they were in relative privacy.

Batman tightened his frown. “What?” he demanded, looking at his old friend.

“Your answer to Booster’s question,” J’onn said. “You broadcasted so loudly it was hard for my telepathy to not pick up.”

“He told me not to answer until later,” Bruce responded simply. 

“I suppose so,” J’onn smiled, heading out to follow their League. “From your mind’s forcefulness, however, I doubt that the answer will change.”

Getting out of Khandaq was not an easy task. She took the risk of going to one of her equipment caches, since her communication equipment was gone. Lord took it, doubtless, or Bern, or even B3. Given the woman’s fighting skills, her true profession being a communication officer was not out of the question. 

She was furious with herself for getting caught, and worse, a part of her was furious that she’d been left out to dry by Oracle, by Batman, even though that was how it worked, being an agent in such a hostile territory. If she had failed this badly on a mission for Khandaqi Intelligence, she would be imprisoned for failing to swallow a cyanide pill. Oracle had not provided her with one of those, because the first rule that she had been sworn to uphold was not to kill, and the organization apparently took a similar stance against emergency suicide pills, but that just meant that she should have been better.

Adam knew about her now beyond any plausible deniability, and the full force of Khandaqi Law Enforcement would soon be cracking down on her, the most pathetic of the Bats. 

She ditched all of her equipment that had been in the hands of Lord and B3 even for a moment, blowing them and her costume up with a contained explosive to make sure that there were no trackers. She scanned her body for radio tropic isotopes or implants, but she could find no sign, so at least she’d gotten away... somewhat clean. 

She put on a new costume, this one with a hooded cape to help her avoid security cameras even more, and then left through the window out of habit, even though this safe house was clearly burned. 

Well, if her cover was blown anyways...

She went to find the head of the local enforcement, a man known up and down the street for being corrupt, cruel, and violent, and she stole his car, with its plates that would get her through the checkpoints. She hadn’t been able to target the man directly, only able to assist his victims escape the beatings he commanded, but she hadn't dared go after him for fear of bringing Khandaqi forces, or worse, Adam himself, down on her head. 

It was strangely freeing, binding the man with twine, stealing his papers and cash, fingerprinting him and getting a retinal scan to get her through the checkpoints to get her out of Khandaq. With Lord knowing her encoded frequency, she didn’t dare use it, even with her equipment, so she’d have to cross the border to get the word out. 

The man cursed at her, threatened her with everything from murder to handing her over to Intergang—which was interesting, she hadn’t realized he had ties to Intergang, she would have to investigate that later, if she survived—but she didn’t want to waste knock out gas on him so she stuffed one of his own handkerchiefs in his mouth and locked him in the garage, hog-tied, hidden behind one of his fancy cars. 

The drive took her longer than she might like—she couldn’t go as fast as the car could go for fear of attracting attention, and she had to use every trick she knew to avoid cameras and to get through the checkpoints without arousing suspicion. 

She turned the radio on, despite knowing she would get nothing but static, as she headed towards the border, listening desperately as words slowly started to break through, beyond the pirate stations that stay up for weeks at a time before being discovered and having to go to ground, words that sounded like a talk radio show that she remembered listening to with her neighbors, before Khandaq had been sealed off again, and it had been lost, like so much else. 

As the words started to form sentences, she spotted a fast approaching military vehicle in the mirror, and she growled to herself, pressing hard on the accelerator. 

She’d been found out. 

Keeping one hand on the wheel, her other hand went to her belt, grabbing three of her precious bat-shaped explosive devices and with a sharp gesture, embedded them into the dashboard, the red lights starting to blink slowly as the timer set. She opened the sunroof slowly, feeling the wind begin to batter at her, and she took a moment to wish... 

Well, it was not like her life had been great even before she’d become Midrab, the Bat of the Desert, and with a shrug to herself, she slowed down enough that the two military vehicles were on either side of her and she could see the gleam of the guns before she launched herself out the sunroof, pressing the button on her belt’s detonator to cause the batarangs to explode. 

Sooraya threw out her arms beneath the cape, and she could hear the shouting from the soldiers below her as they recognized the distinctive shape of it. She didn’t wear it often, in the name of subtly, but she felt a thrill run through her as she heard them shout her name. 

“Midrab!” 

“Batman!” 

“You idiots! Fire!”^[7] 

Bullets flew through the air, and she threw out her hand again, throwing star spikes littering the ground in front of the tires, before she swung herself into the air, landing on the third vehicle. 

“Just like we practiced,” she muttered to herself before smashing through the sunroof with her reinforced boot, grabbing the driver and the gunner by the scruffs of their uniforms and sending them tumbling, a foam pellet attached to each of them that deployed as they flew through the air, cushioning their fall. 

She slid into the driver’s seat and took control of the vehicle, shifting it into a higher gear before she swerved off the road, away from her own tire-piercing spikes. 

The border closed on her and she could see the men at the checkpoint raising guns, can hear them shouting at her to stop, but she didn’t pay attention, just ducked down below the steering wheel and spared a moment to pray for Isis’s blessing as the bulletproof vehicle barreled through the fencing surrounding the checkpoint. 

As the shouting and the crashing of metal on metal rings in her ears, she turned on her radio. 

“This is the Bat of the Desert, broadcasting on all Batman Inc. Frequencies! Maxwell Lord is attempting to lure the Justice League to Switzerland! It is a trap!” 

She risked peeking over the dash, and spotted the soldiers moving to surround her vehicle, and she gritted her teeth and grabbed a fist full of smoke bombs. 

“And also, if anyone’s in the area, I could use some back up.” 

She kicked out the door to the car, punching the throat of the man about to wrench it open, and threw herself into combat, despite knowing that she wouldn't last long. 

But she was Midrab, the Bat of the Desert, Oracle’s chosen agent in Khandaq, and she was not going down without a fight. 

There was something right, seeing the Bug there. It wasn’t in as good shape as it used to be, maybe—Ted probably would have buffed away a few of the scratches, and in all honesty, the thing rarely stayed looking the same for long, with Ted always adding to it as new ideas struck him, but... 

It still felt amazing, climbing up the ladder, into the oldest and most traditional vehicle for the JLI. 

Booster took the pilot’s seat, and Jaime sat next to him, where Scott Free used to sit. 

“Alright!” Booster said, pressing his thumb against the reader. 

“Recognized: Booster Gold. ” 

The Bug took flight, and the JLI headed towards Switzerland, determined to stop Max... and to make sure that Gavril’s sacrifice was not in vain. 

Chapter Text

He is vengeance! He is the night!

He is a billionaire with issues. Lots of issues. 

But from the tragedy of one night, of one choice, the world has been forever changed by the hero known as The Batman! 

But even heroes can fall.^[1] 

When Batman died, the plans that he had laid out had not been enough to fill the void left by his absence. It was clear, given a second chance, that the world was no longer the one before he had worn his cowl.

The world needed a Batman, even if it was not him.

She is mercy! She is the night!

She is an assassin who will never take another life. Not even one.^[2]

From the tragedy of one death, of one unknown choice, the world would be kept on its axis by the hero known as The Batman!

Karen shouldn’t have been surprised, not really, that Booster found a way to approach her as they crossed the ocean. 

“I don’t want to do this right now,” she said, looking at him firmly. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” 

“No excuses,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

That drew her up to a halt. 

“What?”

“I panicked when I realized where you were. I’ve—we’ve. We’ve lost too many people, and Adam... well. He’s Adam.”

Karen looked at him, almost suspicious. “You know, Steel told me the strangest thing, after World War III. He said you popped up out of nowhere and stole a rocket.” 

Booster looked embarrassed. “Time travel,” he said. “I—there was a bit of a crisis.”

“What was the crisis?” She asked, crossing her arms. “What could be so important—”

“The rebirth of the multiverse,” he said. 

She stopped. 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s—complicated.” 

She sighs. “Booster. You’re the leader, now. You can’t just—worry about me. The whole team needs you.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I made a mistake.” He looked at her. “Although, next time? Please don’t smash your communicator before you go charging off into a dangerous international situation? Maybe?” 

She frowned. “But—”

“Listen, I know you’ve got issues with Oracle,” Booster held up his hands. 

“I just don’t get how you don’t,” she snapped. “She’s taken over Ted’s company! She—”

“He loved her,”^[3] Booster said, and she has never wanted to see that expression on Booster Gold’s face. “Karen, I—I can’t begrudge her that. He left it to her.”

She stared at him. “No... he didn’t.” 

Did he really not know? 

He looked confused. “What, Ted didn’t have a will? He had a chronic heart condition, he wouldn’t have—”

“Booster,” Karen said, feeling cold. “Ted left everything to you.”

Booster froze. “What?” 

“It was—well, when the lawyers finished, you were dead,”^[4] she said, her stomach sinking. “And you didn’t have a will.” 

He shrugged. “I mean, what’d it be? Skeets gets the fifty bucks in my wallet? It’s not like I have much—” 

“She took control of the estate. She—she did some of her tricks , made a new will dated before the one with you as the beneficiary, argued in court that since you weren’t around, the last one should be valid... and guess who ended up with everything?”

Booster leaned against the wall, and didn’t look at her. 

“You really... didn’t think he left you with anything?” 

“Why would he?” Booster said, but he didn’t sound like he quite believed it. “He—we were friends, Karen.”

“You shared a bank account,”^[5] Karen said, slowly. “You two lived out of each other’s pockets half the time. I know for a fact you two nearly co-signed a mortgage, before you two figured out that you didn’t have credit, so it wouldn’t work.” 

“Karen—” Booster said, and that expression.... “I—drop it. Please.” 

The grief and loss on his face was painful.

“Have you really... never talked to her about any of this? Asked for... his personal effects, at least?” 

“He loved her,” Booster said, like it’s a mantra that he had to believe, like it was the only thing that mattered. “Karen, he—”

“Did you ever stop and think that didn’t mean he cared about you?” Karen demanded. 

“Of course he cared,” Booster says, not getting it. “But he loved her.” 

“And what, that gives her the right to every part of his life?” She snapped. “You were the one who listened to him, when he was looking into OMAC, you were the one who—”

“Karen,” he begged. “Can we just. Not do this? Not now?”

She crossed her arms. “Booster,” she says, quietly. “It’s okay to admit—”

The Bug started to shift as they moved into descent, and she cursed the timing of the universe, because this conversation... it wasn’t done. Not yet.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” the canned voice of Oracle asked over the receiver. 

It was a simple question in a very complicated situation. It was just fortunate that at this point, Cassandra was pretty confident in her simple answer back.

“Yes,” she said before placing the plane on autopilot, walking to the back, pulling the hatch opening, and tumbling down nearly nine thousand feet from the ground. 

The dive was intense, her suit’s insulation pressing against every square inch of her and constricting her movements more than she usually prefered. The ground seemed to be rising up to meet her faster and faster, but she did not pull the release on the glider until she was at the appropriate height, nearly three thousand feet. 

With the bat-like wings of the glider extended, Cassandra was able to more precisely aim her fall. She glanced occasionally toward her wrist where the homing beacon flickers. The more she pointed the nose of her glider, the faster its pulse became.

By the time she was beneath three hundred meters, she could make out the precarious lines of the border—the distinct nothingness separating Khandaq and its neighbor as well as the fencing and warning signs. 

When she was a hundred meters out she could make out the vehicle, and when she was less than a Gotham skyscraper away, she could see the darkly clad Midrab forced to the ground with several Khandaqi soldiers standing over her, preparing to restrain her. 

Eyes narrowed, Cassandra released herself from the glider, shoving forward through the air and diving for the armed men. 

When she collided with the soldiers, her momentum alone was enough to send them all flailing to the ground like bowling pins. She only barely maneuvered herself by shoving off from them and twisting herself into a landing on the other side. Even then Cass was forced to take a few steps to regain her balance. 

She might have been lying to Oracle a little bit about knowing what she was doing.

But it worked.

The soldiers Cassandra directly knocked into were out, but three of the peripheral ones were scrambling to get to their feet and their guns. 

Swiftly, Cassandra raced forward and sent the first soldier to the ground with her elbow. The other two were able to get their guns up but not before Cass grabbed the muzzles of both, jerking them down to smash the butts of the rifles into their faces. 

One of the two soldiers landed on his back but the other was still standing, Cassandra grabbed his shoulders and kneed him in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of him.

When all of the five soldiers had dropped to the floor, Cassandra turned back to Midrab and walked over. She put out her hand to help Midrab up. 

Midrab took the hand. Her nose was bloodied and her clothes were torn and singed. Cass predicted more than a few bruises. But she was alive.

And, to Cass, that was a good day. 

“I’m Batman,” Cass introduced herself. 

“That… that was amazing,” the Khandaqi woman replied in earnest. She waved around to all of the soldiers Cassandra was responsible for taking care of. 

“Practice,” Cassandra said awkwardly. “Makes perfect.”

Midrab nodded, then pointed to one soldier by the jeep at the border. “I took out that one.”

Cassandra noded encouragingly. 

“What about Batman, though? The uh, other one.” Midrab asked. “Did he get my message? About Switzerland.”

“They’re there, already,” Cass said with a frown. 

Immediately, Midrab’s heavy breathing paused. She looked at Cassandra completely crestfallen before hanging her head and quietly shaking it. She felt defeated, like it was all for nothing. It was written so clearly across her every muscle.

Reaching forward, Cass placed a hand firmly on Midrab’s shoulder. She offered a smile when the Bat of the Desert looked back at her. “We’re going. We’re back up.”

Midrab’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How will we ever get there?”

Cassandra smirked and pulled up a remote from her utility belt. “Ever been in a, uh, rocket ship?”

“Adam, it’s good to have you,” Max said, beaming his best business smile as the man entered the castle. “And thank you for bringing B3 back with you.”

Adam’s look was dismissive. “My people have been getting all sorts of reports about this... Batman Agent you mentioned.”

“Yes, Midrab, I believe she’s called,” Max said. “I hope she’s not giving your people too much trouble?”

“She has been known to me for some time,” Adam replied. “Did you think I was such a fool as to not notice Batman pushing one of his agents into my country?”

Max paused. “I was just surprised that you allowed her to operate.” 

Adam waved a hand. “She is no more than a vigilante, patrolling the streets, the same as any other of my law enforcement officials, with different priorities. Priorities that I don’t... disagree with.” 

Max frowned. “I see.”

“The gesture is, however... appreciated,” Adam said, his face bland. “And while her presence is tolerable, her connection to this... Oracle, and her status as an active operative of Batman Incorporated is not.” 

“Well, I’m sure your people will deal with her easily enough,” Max nodded, while B3 scurried past them both in the direction of her office, doubtless to fetch the files Max has asked her for. “Ah! Black Adam, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Doctor Poison?” 

“No,” he said, looking at her. 

Maru had deigned to remove her lab coat for the occasion, although her glasses remained on and her hair was still pulled back, giving her that dowdy look that she preferred when doing her science. She had instead donned a Checkmate uniform, with several pouches and large pockets visible.  

“Black Adam,” she nodded at him. “An honor.” 

“Hmm,” Adam glanced at her. “I see you have planned this carefully, Lord. Science and magic.” 

“That’s what Checkmate is about,” Max says, spreading his arms wide. “Balance. We’re here to stop either metahumans from becoming overwhelming or humans from wiping them out. And to do that, we need the best, no matter what source it has. Magic, science, humanity, meta, alien or earth-bound... it’s when we work together that we can achieve our goals.”

Maru looked bemused by the sales pitch, while Adam was unmoved. He supposed it was a waste to give it to people who had already bought in, one way or another. 

B3 came back out, having changed into her uniform, clutching her files against her chest. She looked stressed, her hair almost coming out of her tightly pinned setup, and her cheeks were flushed, as if she ran here. “Sir, as you’ve requested, I’ve got the files about the hearings, the media roundup, and—”

“Thank you, B3,” he said, smiling at her. “Call the tower team, let them know to tell me when our guests are incoming.”

“Guests?” Maru echoed. “What guests, Mister Lord?” 

“The JLI, of course,” Max said. “They’re on their way right now. Should be here in an hour at most.” 

“Ah,” Maru nodded. “I have a new version of Kryptonite gas that I believe should incapacitate Power Girl. I will go to the defense department so they can place it within the rockets for when they shoot them down.”

“Oh, no need,” Max waved her off. 

Maru stopped, and her mouth became a thin, dangerous line. “What?” 

“I don’t want to shoot them out of the sky,” Max said. “I’ve got something more... personal, in mind.”

Maru set her jaw. “Lord, that is idiotic. I realize it is common to underestimate this team, but surely you, of all people, know that they are dangerous when motivated... and half of my contacts in Russia are reporting that Rocket Red is dead. The team was very motivated the last time one of their own was murdered... in this very building. Lord. Shoot them out of the sky. End this nonsense. They are infringing on our jurisdiction, and are threatening our plans. We are close to achieving our first goal, Lord. Do not let your ego get in the way.” 

“It’s not ego, Maru,” Max snapped, irritated. “It’s all part of the plan.” 

She stared at him, then sighed. “If they break my laboratory, you’re getting me a new one.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, although her current lab had already caused a significant dent in the budget. But given that she’d apparently aerosolized Kryptonite already... She was a worthy investment. Of that he was certain.

The Bug was as smooth as Batman remembered it ever being. The near silent hum as they crossed Europe airspace left them all able to take in the overwhelming staleness in the air between all of them.

Emotions were high. Batman understood why. 

As they approached the Alps, he stepped forward and leaned down to Booster who had taken over the controls yet again, his gaze set forward and determined. 

“You’re sure about this?” Batman asked him seriously.

“That’s what I’ve always been known for, my seriousness,” Booster said with some mirth. He forced a toothpaste commercial worthy smile at Batman which just confirmed the bravado was a front. 

Batman didn’t meet it with a smile or anything resembling comfort. He had faith in his friend, but he also knew the importance of someone telling things straight. “Booster, if this is a miscalculation, then there’s no going back.”

“Yeah, thanks, I got it the first time,” Booster snapped, bravado dropping as he came up on Checkmate’s fortress. “Fire, you said the hangar entrance is on the southside, right?” 

“Yup,” Fire said as everyone got up and started moving toward their positions. “We’ll fly ahead and knock out the door anything else that might be in the way.”

With that, she and Power Girl exited out the hatch. 

Booster took a breath, shoulders dipping slightly as he held his head back. “Okay, okay. We’re doing this. Where’s Jaime?”

Confused, Batman glanced at the passenger seat beside Booster where Jaime was sitting.

“Here?” Jaime questioned, head tilted. 

“Okay, great, remember the plan?” Booster asked, looking at Jaime only for a moment before concentrating again on landing. 

“Stay within arm’s length of either you or Batman?” Blue Beetle asked. “You do know I’m not an eight-year-old, right? It’s a little uncomfortable to have to play by Six Flags visit rules.”

“Well, tough,” Booster shot back. “Max is a dramatic asshole. If he pulls any shit—which he will—it’s going to be part proving his ego and part what seems like the most thematic thing to do at the moment.”

Blue Beetle scratched at his chin. “I mean, he shot me in the head already. How many more times can he replay that one?”

Batman took a moment to soak in the information, then rounded on Booster. “He what?”

Like a kid caught in the cookie jar, Booster winced then waved Batman off. “It’s a story for another time, don’t worry about it right now. Look! Jaime, my point is that Max is at least partially doing this to relive something important to him. He’s willing to replay it as many times as he can and could do it for the rest of his life if he wants to. I don’t know if it’s his greatest hits or his biggest regrets, but it’s something he’ll keep on repeat because it’s easier for him than trying something completely untried before.”

Everyone in the Bug stared at Booster quietly. 

“That is oddly specific,” Tora finally said, the first to break the silence. 

“Hey, stop psychoanalyzing your leader and instead follow me out into perilous danger for little reward,” Booster said, getting to his feet and heading for the back hatch. 

“That’s your rallying speech?” Guy asked, shouldering Booster as he walked by. He then looked at Batman. “What about you? Anything more heralding?”

“Don’t mess this up,” Batman answered flatly. 

They didn’t even have to finish exiting the Bug before it began. Power Girl and Fire were standing out in the hangar already, looking firm and battle ready but waiting on Booster Gold’s lead. 

The hangar immediately began sealing itself up—heavy metal doors clamp shutting over the entrance they came through, all exits barring off. The lights turned from a neutral white to a strange red glow, a thick fog-like cloud poured through the vents. At the same time, the tiles beneath their feet began making the floor of the hangar uncomfortably warm. 

“Ah, fuck!” Guy hissed, suddenly grabbing at his head, shoving his palms against his ears. 

Between Batman and Booster, Jaime began reacting the same. 

“Ow!” Jaime piped up. “It’s… some kind of noise—sonic something. The Beetle’s freaking out!”

Batman glanced around. “He’s removing any advantages we have immediately.

“Of course he is,” Booster huffed, working up a good anger as he stepped out to the center of the hangar. He threw up his hands angrily and looks around toward every corner for cameras. “Alright, Max! Congrats! Come on out to talk, we’re here for your speech! Great work with the red sun radiation. The carbon dioxide extinguishers. The heat plate floors. Sonic strikes. Very thoughtful. Very thorough. You knew how to take out our team’s powers.” He focused at last on a platform at the far end of the hangar. “So go ahead and tell me what you’re planning now.”

Stepping forward, Max smirked over the platform. He leaned in, elbows resting on the railing. He shook his head slightly, clearly amused. 

“Why did you come if you thought you had this all figured out?” Max asked. 

Booster’s nose curled and he set his jaw. “Because someone needs to stop you from what you’re planning.”

“And what’s that?” Max asked. 

“To set things back to when you were on top of the world, to make everything like it was when Checkmate was at the top,” Booster scoffed. “Back when you were on top of everything.”

Sighing, Max hung his head. He shook it slowly, almost disappointed. “Booster, Booster, Booster,” he half-sang. “This is what I loved and hated about working with you. You are always on the right track, you always have the sense of what to do, but you lack that vision. You don’t go big enough.”

“Guess I had a shitty manager who undersold me all these years,” Booster fired back.

Max frowned. “No, Booster. That’s the tragedy. I always knew what kind of hero you’d be.” He glances at the rest of the crew. “All of you, really. I saw things, saw potential for you that no one else ever had. I knew that it was something that could change the world. And people laughed at you.” 

“We’re not here for your mind games, Lord,” Batman finally spoke up, stepping up to Booster’s side. “It’s no use trying to toy with us. You are making moves to consolidate power and have been doing so in areas purposefully outside of the range of known superheroes.”

There was a distinctly less amused expression on Max’s face as he turned toward Batman. His eyes darkened as he stood up to his full height and straightened his suit. “That’s what I hated about the established cape community, Batman. There are superheroes everywhere, new ones made each and every day. But if they’re under the radar, if they’re out of a certain sphere of influence and approved by the elitists among you, they don’t count.” Max scowled. “How long before the ones outside of the heroes’ radars outnumber your self-policing force? What happens then?”

“Apparently, they go loco and start rebuilding international spy rings with the hopes of taking over the world,” Fire snarled. She stepped forward, fists clenched and teeth gritted, but with the fall of the extinguisher gas, her flames only flickered before disappearing in a wisp of smoke. 

“You still don’t get it,” Max said, sounding strained and distressed. “You don’t understand what potential we all are capable of unlocking here. I am talking about righting every wrong that we have suffered as a world.”

“Most of the wrong you did!” Power Girl snapped. 

“You are not a good man, Maxwell Lord,” Ice said coldly. 

At that, Max stepped back, taking in a deep breath. His expression was neutral, even emotionless, but he teemed with a dangerous energy. His eyes fell back on Booster. 

“I hoped you were smart enough to realize that we still had a lot of good to give the world together,” Max said almost remorsefully. “I really, truly did. You are all still my team. But , obviously, you were not smart enough to realize that this was a trap.”

Flinching, Booster’s body went stiff before he turned on his heel, blasters out and pointed at them. 

“Au revoir, my old friends,” Max said with a wave as a trickle of blood left his nose. “And, Batman, especially, thank you for your wonderful contributions to Checkmate. Once I finish hacking into the Batman Inc. network, I will have a whole list of agents to recruit from all over the world. I’m thinking of calling them Checkmate Inc. It’ll be gauche to keep calling them Batman Inc. when we’ve taken out the Batman.”

Batman narrowed his eyes and refused to break eye contact with Max. He raised his hand all the same, however, and signaled toward Power Girl. 

Smirking, Power Girl took a few steps forward then leapt into the air, flying at top speeds right at Max before knocking straight into a shocked Black King.

Max cried out, “How!? The red—” 

Freed from Max’s control, Booster went wobbly and stumbled to the side, immediately getting caught by Batman and Blue Beetle. “Yikes,” Booster muttered, “That never gets more fun the more you ride on it. 

“Can I please let Beetle turn off the sonar now?” Jaime pleaded.

After a few solid punches, Power Girl grabbed Max by the lapels to hold him up. Nearly nose-to-nose, Power Girl shifted, her skin becoming a cool green, her red cape exchanged for a blue one, and her features growing long and sharp. 

Martian Manhunter snarled at Max. “It is over, Lord.”

Genuinely shocked, Lord bristled. “Then where is—”

The Checkmate fortress shook with the force of a heavy boom from the distant side of the castle. 

“That’s our girl, Peej,” Gardner preened, twisting his pinky into his ears as his head was cleared of the sonar attack. “Ready for a rematch and keeping your new flyboy away from us while we kick the feet out from under your little organization.”

“You think Power Girl can take on Black Adam in combat?” Max let out a strangled laugh meant to disguise his panic as the situation spiraled out of his control. 

“I do,” Booster said, getting steady on his feet again. “But, it’s always nice that she has a little backup.” As if on cue, another explosion rocked the castle and made the time traveler smirk. “Captain Atom is good for that.”

Guy made a giant vacuum cleaner construct and immediately sucked up all of the carbon dioxide fog. Fire took in a deep breath, spread out her arms, and lit on fire. She picked up Ice and carried her to the top of the Bug to cool off, immediately letting Ice bring in cool winter gusts around her. 

Batman saw that Jaime was with Booster before he rushed toward J’onn and Max. He pulled out of his utility belt a metallic ring that he placed on Max’s head.

“What are you doing?” Max demanded, trying to jerk away, but not before it clicked into place.

“A friend from China is very good with technology,” Batman explained. “He has a theory about electrical brain impulses and telepathic powers. This should keep you from being tempted to do anything else until we get you to the proper authorities.” He then pulled out his handcuffs.

Max looked at the handcuffs for a long moment. Then he glanced back at Bruce with his eyebrows racing toward his hairline. “Are you serious?” he asked in disbelief. “Surely you’re not. Proper authorities? You still don’t get it. I haven’t done anything wrong! Legally! Statutorily! I am clean as a whistle! The only crimes that have been probably committed here today are yours!”

“Perhaps,” Batman smirked, leaning in. “But my associate has been keyed into the tech of this building since we came in,” he said as Jaime waved behind him. “I’m sure we will find some questionable things. And until then, you will be in custody and under intense supervision. I wonder what the temperature is like in Belle Reve this time of year. I know that Doctor Waller is looking forward to your reunion.” 

“It’s over, Max,” Booster said, coming up behind Batman. 

“I should think not.”

The doors that had been behind Max opened and a woman in a lab coat stood with a flamethrower at the ready. She aimed it for Batman but turned slightly and immediately fired it at J’onn. Doctor Poison. He recognized her from Diana’s recounting, as well as her official Interpol files. 

Screeching out, J’onn recoiled, his body disappearing momentarily as he scrambled away from the fire. 

“No!” Batman roared, leaping at the woman and knocking the flamethrower out of her hands.

She didn’t even flinch before throwing a pellet at his chest that exploded into a thick, purple gas. 

He didn’t have time to stop himself from breathing them in because a second woman—tall, muscular, and wearing long sharp claws—leapt forward and kicked Batman directly in the side of his head. It sent him careening to the ground. 

Booster was by J’onn, his forcefield on top of both of them, taking out the oxygen and smothering the flames. 

“Thank you, ladies,” Max coughed, getting to his feet as Maru strode across the space between them to remove the power-dampening circlet. “I believe it’s time we made our exit.”

The tall woman in a wooden mask stood firm, arms crossed over her torso. She looked over her shoulder at Max then back to the gathering of heroes. 

“I am Tabu. I am the hero killer. I shall live up to my name,” she told them. 

“Suit yourself,” Max said, leaning on the scientist as they hastily retreated.

Ice stepped up to J'onn, immediately applying her hands and ice to his wounds. Jaime stayed back holding one hand to his head and muttering to the scarab attached to his spine. Guy and Fire squared up with Tabu along with Booster and Batman. 

“Oh, shit, her again?” Guy groaned. 

Booster grimaced. “Why do I remember this sucking so much?”

“Focus ,” Batman snaps at them both.

Tabu leapt forward, claws bared.

“So I see you failed to learn to count, Lord,” Maru snapped. “How did you not notice that the Manhunter was there? That is one of the most cliché—” 

“J’onn’s been taking a backseat!” Max protested. His head ached something fierce from the aftereffects of that infernal device. “He hasn’t been spotted at all—”

“Except at the funeral!” Maru snapped. “Which you refused to watch, despite—”

“Stop nagging,” Max grumbled. “It all worked out in the end.” 

“It’s not over yet,’ Maru says grimly. “Ah, Agent B3.” 

“Sir!” B3 says. “Ma’am!” She saluted awkwardly. “Black Adam is, um.” The building shook. “In the east wing,” she said, a pained expression on her face. 

“Which floor?”

“Six, seven, and eight. Maybe nine by now.” The building shook again. “And perhaps ten.” 

Max sighed. “What’s the strategy for containment?”

She looks at him, alarmed. “Sir, there is no strategy for containing Captain Atom that doesn't involve detonating a massive nuclear device. We don’t have the force field technology and ah, Sinestro is not returning our calls.” 

Max blinked. “Is that a joke, B3?” 

“No sir, you had me attempt to reach him last week,” she said, frowning. 

... he absolutely had been joking, but it was good to know she'd follow his instructions to the letter. 

“Well, get the Pawns to equip the Kryptonite gas canisters,” Max ordered, irritated. “That way Adam can focus on Atom.” 

“Hmm,” Maru said. “I suppose this is still salvageable.” 

“Of course it is,” Max snapped, pushing open the doors to the room with the master computer... the information hub of Checkmate itself. 

“Sir?” B3 looked at the ground, making a strange face. “What is this? I haven’t seen this plaque before.” 

“No you wouldn’t have,” Max smiled. “I had it installed recently.” 

“To... remember the Blue Beetle, sir?”

“Of course,” Max said, turning on the security feed. “That’s where he died, after all. Right on that spot.”

Booster was almost certain that things could not go much worse. He fired his wrist blasters at Tabu and again and again watched as the lanky warrior avoided them easily. 

There was still only one available exit, the one that Tabu was guarding, and they were down J’onn who Ice was still tending to. 

“Keep her busy, I’ll go after Max,” Batman ordered, pulling something from his belt. 

“The hell you are!” Guy roared, just before Tabu scaled his construct cage for her and burst through the solidified will like a creature from a horror movie. Guy jerked back, his hand shaking from recoil. “What the actual hell is this chick!?”

“I sense some strong magic from her!” Ice yelled over from the corner. “Be careful!”

Scowling, Booster knew that magic, as always, was a massive weak spot for their team. He watched Fire square off with Tabu before looking at Batman seriously. 

“You wanted me to lead a team? I’m leading this team. I’ve got some sort of magical super assassin kicking our asses and you’re asking me to let the one genius martial artist who used to date Zatanna^[6] go alone elsewhere?” 

Batman narrowed his eyes, unamused.

“Hey! I read headlines about more than just myself, you know,” Booster scoffed. “You’re staying. Besides, I am not letting anyone else go toe to toe with Max without me there.”

“Is that your decision as a leader?” Batman demanded snappishly. 

“Absolutely,” Booster answered. “So we’ll take care of this person and then head after Max. Unless you dating Zatanna means she slipped you a spell for how to be in more than one place at once.”

The castle shook again, but it persisted as an ongoing rumble this time. Behind them, from the hangar door sealed in thick metal, a high pitched whistle began to echo. It took a moment for it to even register before there was an explosive crash behind the Bug. Metal and smoke flew toward them all, catching them off guard. 

Booster coughed through the dust and waved his hand through the air until he could see further away. 

From the clouds, two figures emerged from a pointed rocket ship’s cockpit. The one who stood first glared through the clouds, the dark silhouette of a cape and pointed ears. 

Another Batman leapt from the rocket toward Tabu and met the surprised killer with the first kick that landed so far. 

“I did learn how to be in more than one place at once, but I didn’t learn it from Zatanna,” Batman declared. He motions something toward the other Batman, who bore a striking resemblance to Black Bat, except for her costume, who nodded and then continued to hold off Tabu. 

“Is she a meta?” Booster asked seriously, staring at her.

“No,” Batman answered. He then held up a hand as Booster opened his mouth. “Yes. It’s been checked.”

Booster popped his mouth closed and set his jaw. He nearly jumped out of his skin when another Bat wearing woman popped up beside them. “Oh, goddammit! Wear bells or something on your suits!”

“Batman, uh, Sir,” the woman said, saluting awkwardly. “I’m Midrab. I specialize in computers. Oracle sent me.”

“Then you’re coming with us,” Batman said. He sent a look Booster’s way. “If that’s fine—”

“Oh, don’t be a smartass,” Booster snapped back, ignoring the way it made the woman startle. He kicked off the ground, his flight ring suspending him as he looked to his team. He had a nauseous wave of panic overcome him, but he pushed it down. Stay objective. “Guy!” he yelled out, getting the Lantern’s attention. “Work with uh… Batman! Fire, help Ice get J’onn to the Bug and make sure it’s airworthy!”

“Booster!” Fire yelled back, stopping Booster from leaving through the hall as Midrab and Batman did. She looked seriously at him. “Be safe. Don’t do the stupid thing you want to do. Do the stupid thing that’ll keep you alive”

Booster scoffed and nodded. “I’ll do my best, but that’s all I’ve got to give!” he warned her before flying through the grand doors. 

It didn’t take long for Booster to catch up with Batman and Midrab. They were handily taking care of the various Checkmate guards and agents. Booster lowered his fist to aim for a few who were giving Midrab a difficult time. 

“Do we know where we’re going?” Booster asked the two of them. 

“Oracle provided me with Blueprints,” Midrab answered confidently. Her English was layered with a heavy Gotham accent that made Booster feel right at home. 

“I already know where to go,” Batman said, using a Batarang to take out a guard around the corner. “Let’s move!’

“Of course,” Booster grunted, pushing forward. 

It wasn’t that Booster was entirely unfamiliar with the layout of Checkmate. He had visited more than once in secret, and normally at different points of history. It was difficult for him to stop himself from returning here, really. 

That same instinct to return to the Checkmate castle, though, was giving him the opposite sensation as they closed in on their ultimate destination. The closer they got, the more turns they made, the more familiar Booster was with their direction. 

When they burst into the room, Booster could only think of how the last time he was in this room, he almost ended all of space-time to save Ted Kord. And, even now, older and wiser, Booster felt the same way, that he’d do it again had it not been for Ted’s second sacrifice. 

Because Booster couldn’t survive losing him a third time. Not like that. 

He told himself that this time was different, but he wasn’t quite sure just how it would be until they burst in and were faced with a giant screen counting down. 

“What a fucking tool!” Booster let out in a frustrated scream. “That’s a countdown timer! It’s going to self-destruct Doctor Evil style! He’s…” He was ready to stomp his feet and go into full freak out on the tech surrounding them when his foot nudged something hard on the floor.

Looking down, Booster froze. He looked down at the placard on the floor, shiny and gold. Its black inscription. He stared at it for a good, long time as his blood boiled in his veins. 

“Booster, focus!” Batman snapped as he and Midrab run to the controls of the computer. “Keep watch on the door while we work on this.” 

“Did you see this!?” Booster demanded, incapable of hiding the hysteria brimming over in him. 

“Booster, not now!” Batman continued as he and Midrab worked furiously with  the control center in front of them. 

Annoyed, Booster whirled around to pop off at Batman again. But he couldn’t. Not when he turns and sees someone standing in the center of the room who he knew for a fact wasn’t there a minute ago. 

Max smirked, shrugging at Booster. “I was hoping you’d blast on instinct.”

“I was close to it,” Booster admitted. “That would’ve been fun. Booster Gold goofs and destroys the control panel Batman needs to save everyone’s lives. You wouldn’t even have to buy bots to spread that story online.”

Booster glanced to the corners of the room, looking for the camera that Max must see him from. He frowned, unable to place it exactly. 

“You used to be so easy to push,” Max sighed, walking casually around Booster. He was completely convincing—almost assuredly real to every sense Booster had. 

Which made it all the more difficult to not flinch when a familiar hand clapped on Booster’s shoulder. 

“You’re the one that I was hoping could understand,” Max admitted freely. “All of you… my team. I really did think you could get it and even support it. It was seeing how you all were treated by other heroes that really lit my fire. We saw that heroes were fallible, killable, all of that. It wasn’t as easy to look at them like super gods anymore, but to see how cliquey and cruel they could be to one another. Well, that just confirmed what I suspected about heroic altruism, and what these same heroes likely thought of all of us rubes not wearing capes.”

Booster sighed, keeping his gaze toward the plaque on the floor. He focused on his breathing. In and out. He tried to ignore Max. The voice. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder. The faint pressure against his mind. 

“But you, Michael, you were a normal guy. Maybe the most normal guy of anyone who gets the crazy notion to do some good in the world. You know exactly what attitude I’m referring to. And you know exactly how it was that more than anything else that got him killed.”

“I have a theory about a hand holding a gun being involved, too,” Booster said, unable to stop himself. 

“I didn’t have…” Max stopped himself and squeezed Booster’s shoulder tighter. “Fine. There were choices, but none of them were worth the bigger picture. They still aren’t. And more than anything, Michael, let me assure you, I wish it had been another way.” He paused. “If it had been, I think there would have been a chance of you agreeing with what I’m saying.”

Booster took a breath, dropping to one knee beside the plaque and squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He could still feel Max’s hand on his shoulder, could feel Max breathing down his neck. He wasn’t talking, but the sensations were there until—

“Booster, focus.” 

Opening his eyes, Booster released his breath and looked up wearily. Batman was kneeling next to him, an uncertain frown on his face. 

“Did it work?” Booster asked worriedly. 

“We haven’t exploded and Oracle is double checking my work to clear anything else personnel related from Checkmate’s digital files,” Midrab said excitedly, her hands on her hips as she stands apart from them. 

Batman kept Booster’s gaze without missing a beat. “I’m hearing from everyone else, Max was focused on you during Checkmate’s escape from the premises. He didn’t get in contact with any other minds on the way out. And you didn’t fall for his bait.”

“Great,” Booster gasped, pushing up his goggles to wipe at his damp eyes and cheeks. “Go me.”

Batman offered Booster his hand, which Booster took and let himself be pulled up off of the floor. 

“We didn’t clear Checkmate’s board,” Booster grunted.

“We set them back,” Batman assured him. “We stopped him from taking over Batman Inc, and they had to abandon this headquarters. Including Doctor Poison’s lab. This is a good day, Booster.” 

Booster rubbed at his face and turned away from the Bats. He tried to trust Batman’s words, the wisdom of them, but he was still shaky and sick to his stomach. 

Max didn’t win, but they hadn’t either. 

Shaking his head, Booster looked at Batman and squared his shoulders. “Stalemate it is. For now.”

“Lord,” Maru said, crossing her arms. “This was unacceptable.” 

“There was no strategy to this,” Black Adam agreed. “What was the purpose?” 

“Besides the confirmation of multiple Batman Incorporated agents?” Max said. 

“This is not worth what we lost,” Maru snapped. “It is not a devastating setback, perhaps, but we lost our stronghold, even if Tabu was able to make her escape. Not to mention my samples.” 

“A stronghold,” Max said. “We have plenty of locations... less obvious ones, too. Ones that the Justice League and their allies have no idea about.” 

“You are ignoring what we are saying,” Maru leaned forward. “You are not a tyrant, Lord. You give all those pretty speeches about balance? You recruit us as allies, telling us we’re equals.” She poked him in the chest, hard. “If this is the case, Lord. Next time? You listen to us. Black Queen. White King. And, eventually, our White Queen, when we find her.” Her mask shifted as she talked, dislodged slightly by the stress of the day, revealing just a hint of the scarring beneath. 

“Next time, no pretty speeches. No elaborate traps that can be turned against us. Next time, we take no prisoners, play no games, unless we need one of them alive for information or scientific advancement or something.” She waved her hand. “I am human, Lord. I am a woman of science. I did not nearly kill Wonder Woman by waiting for a lightning storm and taking chances. I had a plan.”

“We know our enemy better now,” Max argued. 

“Once, Lord,” Adam said. “We shall take that answer once. Your fondness for these fools cannot be allowed to interfere with our goals. You have made promises, and you will keep them.” 

Bern entered the cabin. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sirs, ma’am, but we’re approaching our destination.”

“Black Adam, sir,” B3 said, poking her head in behind him. “I have files that you’ve requested, for your side of the board.”

Adam nodded, and B3 entered, handing him a stack of files before scuttling out, closing the door to the private cabin behind her.  

“Recruiting already?” Max said, raising his eyebrows. “You’re working fast.” 

“The sooner Checkmate is fully staffed, the closer we get to our goals,” Adam said, flipping one file open. “I have played chess longer than your civilization, Lord. Do you think I don’t understand how this organization of yours works?”

“Of course not,” Max laughed. “Just surprised how quickly you’re settling in.” 

“Do you have a White Queen in mind?” Maru said, settled down in her seat now that she was done chewing Max out. 

“Yes,” Adam replied, and that was the end of the discussion. Maru raised an eyebrow but asked nothing else. 

“Well,” Max sad, propping his elbows on his knees and grinning. “Best of five?”

Karen’s feet hit the floor of the Bug first and it took all of her remaining stamina to not collapse in a heap of jelly immediately after. She stood, though, after a stumbled landing and looked back as Captain Atom followed suit. 

He wasn’t as weak as she felt, considering he lacked her weaknesses to Kryptonite and to magic, but the exhaustion between them was clear. 

Waiting for them, Booster Gold held out his hands. They each took one and he smirked at them. It didn’t quite meet his eyes but his sweat slicked hair and the clear battle wear on his suit said everything. 

“Max?” Nate asked before Karen had the chance.

Booster’s smirk dropped slightly and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “We got everything we needed to make sure that he won’t be pushing Checkmate further out than its current reach. Not for a while. And without superpowers like Russia or China supporting the organization officially, it’ll be hard for him to get the legitimacy he wants from the rest of the world.”

Taking in the news, Karen nodded before releasing Booster’s hand and walking to the nearest bench to collapse on. 

He turned to watch her. “You alright?” he asked genuinely.

“Kryptonite sickness, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. 

Laying down, Karen could get a better assessment of the team. Guy and Jaime were sitting behind Batman at the cockpit, talking animatedly. Fire was getting her cuts and suit tears addressed by Ice, and J’onn was laying on the opposing bench, though propped up on his elbows, bandages wrapped across him. 

They had a good headcount. She tried to make that feel like a victory after losing Rocket Red, but it all still felt so bitter in her mouth. 

She flinched in surprise when Booster appeared in her periphery, leaned against the smooth wall of the Bug beside her, and slid down to sit on the floor. He had a small waste basket in his hands.

“What are you doing?” she asked him in clear confusion.

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a forced laugh. “You said you were sick. So. Figured a trashcan could help.”

Karen wrinkled her nose at him. “It’s not morning sickness. It’s a deadly radioactive rock.”

“I’m inexperienced in both of those,” Booster snorted. He looked back at her, before his voice dropped. To other people, it was probably inaudible, but she was a Kryptonian. “Hey, uh. Just so you know. What we talked about. Before we got to Switzerland.” He paused thoughtfully, then glanced back at her. “About Ted.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked down at him. Slowly, she nodded back to let him know she knew exactly what he meant. 

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Booster continued. “If you hadn’t, uh, cleared the air on some things. Some things that have, you know, nagged me since…” he trailed off, looking out across the Bug, focusing on nothing. “If you hadn’t said some things I might’ve been a little more susceptible to things. So. I know everyone’s a little angry they didn’t get their own piece of Max for themselves this time, but what I did directly get to stand up to was at least a little bit yours, too. Because you’re the only person who’s been willing to talk with me about him so far.”

They let the silence fall for a moment and Karen glanced toward Fire, Ice, Guy—members of the Justice League International she knew for a fact are far closer to Booster than she had ever been. 

“I think it’s just because it hurts them too much still, too,” Karen admitted. “Everyone loves Ted. But the five of you? You were your own thing. No matter what other heroes thought or said. There was something about the five of you that kept you as a unit. Even when you weren’t together.”

A fond little smile crossed Booster’s face. “Thanks.” He finally glanced at her. “I hope you stay on the team.”

Karen nodded. “I hope you continue to lead it,” she told him. 

Booster offered her his hand and she took it. They shook on it.

“Booster.”

Somehow, Booster couldn’t find himself to be surprised that Bruce had found him here. 

It wasn’t Ted’s real grave, of course. That’s at Vanishing Point,^[7] because after Blackest Night and after the second funeral,^[8] Booster was tired of having to deal with that. 

But it was still the gravestone, and it still meant a lot, and so here Booster was, looking down at a gravestone for his best friend, just... remembering.

“Hey Bruce,” he said, because he knows from the intonation and inflection that if he looked behind him, he’d see a man in a bespoke suit, more elegant than Max could ever manage, with his dark hair starting to be streaked with gray. Not the tabloid star, not Batman... just, Bruce. His friend. 

Booster knew he was lucky, being allowed to see it. 

Bruce came up to stand next to him, his hands in his pockets. 

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

“What?”

“I’m in,” Bruce said. “The Team. It might take a bit to scale back my other commitments, but Cassandra’s almost done training her replacement in Hong Kong, and between her and Batgirl, Gotham is in good hands. Tim’s stepping up with Batman Inc, and Dick’s going to continue with the JL, when he’s not in Gotham working with Damian.”

“A Bat for every occasion, huh?” Booster asked. “What about Midrab?” 

“Oracle’s helping her get back into Khandaq. Despite the messiness of her exit, apparently Adam has declined to formally declare her an enemy of the state. It’s back to the shadows for her.”

“Why does he tolerate her?”  

“She wears Isis’s symbol,” Bruce said. “Not just the Bat. She works on environmental causes, Intergang, human trafficking, and women’s rights. Issues that Adam’s security forces overlook, but Adam knows mattered to his wife.” 

“Smart,” Booster had to admit. 

“It was the Question’s idea.”

“The new one?”^[9]

“Yes.”

Booster sighed. “Feels like a lot of us are stepping aside for the next generation.”

“What about you?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Booster shrugged. “The whole point of... well, everything, is that there is no legacy. Who’d want to be like Booster Gold?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No more Booster Golds after me. It’ll probably be for the best.”

“I disagree,” Bruce said, with that strange earnestness of his that so few people ever got to hear. “I think the world will be much worse off without you.”

Booster tried to laugh it off. “What about you, Bruce? Ever going to retire? Sit back on a beach in Florida and let your army of kids do the job entirely?” 

Bruce chuckled, a sound so rare that Booster nearly stopped in his tracks. 

“Not anytime soon,” Bruce shook his head. “But... maybe one day.”

Booster looked at him in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Probably not on a beach though.”

“Can’t have you losing that ghostly pale look,” Booster agreed. He patted Ted’s gravestone. “You’d be proud of him, buddy,” he said. “Jaime’s the best of all of us.”

And with that, the two friends turned away and walked towards the future. 

TO BE CONTINUED IN

JUSTICE LEAGUE INTERNATIONAL: ACROSS THE MULTIVERSE