January 1, 2016

A steady, driving rain fell over the quiet streets of Metropolis on a grey New Year’s Day. The rain mixed with the dust and debris from the attack a mere week before, creating a haze in the air and a dirty slush on the ground. It was as if the city itself was showing its grief at the tragic loss of life that had occurred here on what is normally one of the happiest nights of the year. When people had normally been tucked into their beds awaiting a happy Christmas morning, this year they had been running for their lives as an unimaginable horror was tearing their beloved city apart. It had ended nearly as suddenly as it began, but not before fire, death, and destruction held court in the City of Tomorrow.

The biggest blow, of course, was that Superman, the protector of Metropolis, fell in order to stop the beast known as Doomsday. There had been a growing unease about superhuman activities in the country and across the world, but no one ever spoke ill of Superman in Metropolis. He was their favorite son. He was their shield. He was their hero. His loss had been felt across the world, of course, but none were more devastated than the people of the city he had called home. They now lined a street leading to Centennial Park, waiting in sadness for the funeral to begin, a sea of black umbrellas covering their mourning figures. There were so many they filled the majority of the park, save for the area cornered off for the VIPs.

In the park, Superman’s closest friends packed in a small semicircle on a bare hill overlooking the park. There, where a statue commemorating Superman’s heroics stood, was now a gleaming stone tomb. It would be here where Superman would be interred, allowing people to pay their respects.

At a podium in front of the tomb stood Kara Zor-El, Superman’s cousin and the hero known as Supergirl. Kara was adorned in flowing black robes with the crest of the house of El emblazoned in silver on her chest. Her hair was braided tightly on the back of her head, uncharacteristic for her free spirited ways. Kara stood awkwardly, trying to keep her height off her right leg which was still tender from the fight with Doomsday.

She scanned the assembled crowd, her heart breaking as she did so. The front row was comprised of the Justice League, save for Batman who was nowhere to be seen. She cursed under her breath that he wasn’t here. Wonder Woman, whom Kara felt had shut herself off since the event, looked down at her feet, a pose Kara had nearly never seen from her.

Behind them, the younger heroes were assembled. Konnor Kent, Superboy, wore a scowl on his face, but that was honestly normal. Kara felt that his anger at his situation had become worse since Clark died. Next to him was Kaldur. He had been a rock for her since she lost her cousin, and he looked as steady as he always did in his formal Atlantean garb.

In the back were assorted civilians, including Lois Lane and Jim Olsen, both of whom were tired and out of tears. Next to them, however, was the most heartbreaking sight of all. Jonathan and Martha Kent sat, completely anonymous due to the desire to keep Kal’s secret identity safe. Jonathan looked tired, but better than he should have, by all rights. He was the reason Kal became Superman, and the old man was proud of his son for saving Metropolis, no matter how much he missed him. Martha, on the other hand, looked like a wreck. Kara had visited them a few times in the week, and Martha had barely come out of her room. It broke her heart to see the Kents this way, and she looked away before the tears started.

She approached the microphone, and cleared her throat. She heard the sound echo through the city, as they had set up the city’s PA system in order to allow the citizens in the city to hear the speech as well. Kara looked down and shuffled her feet before looking up and behind her at the statue of her cousin. She hadn’t prepared anything, and she wasn’t all that sure what she was going to say. But seeing the gleaming marble figure of the hero the words came to her, “Truth...justice...the American way. These are the things many people have said my cousin stood for, and in a way they weren’t wrong. Kal-El was a man who stood for many things, but there was one that stood above all the others. That was hope. Superman was defined by hope. He wanted to foster it all of us, hero and civilian alike. Because he believed in a better future for the people of this world. He may not have come from here, but Superman cared about the people of this planet. He didn’t put on that cape for glory or ego. No, he did it for every single one of the so-called little guys he saved. Because he knew every human life had potential to create the better world he dreamed of, and I’m willing to bet all of you have the same dream. That’s why you lined the streets on a day like this to remember him. Some of you may think the dream of that better future died with my cousin, but I’m here to say it doesn’t have to. As long as we continue to fight together against the evils in this world, and keep that hope alive in our hearts, Superman’s death will not have been in vain. Together we can keep his spirit alive, and together, as he believed, we cannot be defeated.”

Kara smiled weakly at her allies and stepped back from the podium. She didn’t know if what she said made any sense, or if it would get her point across, but she hoped it would. She meant every word. Without Clark, they’d all need to work together to survive.

Diana Prince, otherwise known as Wonder Woman, was indeed shaken by the events that had occurred. She thought back to her childhood with her martial arts instructor— to her time in the military as she was conditioned by some of the best in the Special Forces— and to her trials as an awakened amazon and demi-goddess. She had been taught to be rigid, emotionally blank, resilient, and strong… but she felt none of those things at the funeral of her closest and most valued friend. The funeral of Superman. The concept still didn’t fully register in her brain as she kept having flashes back to the battle with Doomsday; could she have fought harder and faster? Could she have died instead of Superman? The world needed him more than it needed her yet she was left as the one who lived; though she felt the opposite of “alive” at this moment. Diana had felt dead ever since she came upon the corpses of Doomsday and Superman.

The Corpses.

Diana nearly quivered as the thought went through her mind.

Her eyes glanced to her right as Supergirl carried on with her speech, her eyes catching the empty seat that was meant for Batman; a man that stood as Diana’s silent ally, and one she considered as another of her few close friends. The Dark Knight had thought the ceremony they were doing here was “pointless” and a waste of time when there were no answers about who was responsible for Doomsday. The sentiment was understandable and Diana felt compelled to agree yet she felt she should be here… she should be standing tall even in her sadness as Superman would’ve wanted her to be. She was trying to do that, much like Supergirl herself who was standing before everyone trying to inspire them to carry on by Superman’s standard.

A difficult sentiment for many, she was sure. Diana found it admirable and she knew she would have to try. But it still wasn’t fair, though.

It was never fair.

She had lost Steve only months before she had lost Kal. She had lost Donna before that and her mother before that. She felt so utterly alone despite standing alongside other heroes and even her wards that she had trained. The hollow feeling in her chest ached like no pain she had ever felt and it had been growing for months until Kal himself tempered it with his kindness. A kindness that she reflected on; after Steve had died she had went to Kal for moral support, to get her focused and back where she needed to be.

“You’re not alone, Diana. You’ll never be alone. Look at all of those people down there, all those people that depend on us. That’s hope. That’s what keeps me going when I’m at my most desperate, it’s what inspires me to be the hero they need me to be. Whenever you are falling into despair, just look down and smile. If that doesn’t work, then you can always come to me for reassurance. I’m your friend. I’ll always be your friend. That will never change.”

Diana clenched her fists as she fought back her emotions whilst she recalled his words. She looked down at the floor as she began to contemplate her thoughts.

This could not be happening.

This had to be a nightmare.

“—but I’m here to say it doesn’t have to. As long as we continue to fight together against the evils in this world, and keep that hope alive in our hearts, Superman’s death will not have been in vain. Together we can keep his spirit alive, and together, as he believed, we cannot be defeated.”

The words spoken bravely by Supergirl seemed to knock Diana out of her own sense of despair, a fact that made her nearly smile. She moved her head up and back to the podium and to Supergirl.

“If Kara can stand unbroken, I can do the same.”

Diana took a light breath as she regained what little composure she had.

Waterloo Docks, Blüdhaven

Dick Grayson stood outside the warehouse with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. It was bitter cold in Blüdhaven this time of year and being forced to guard some yellow tape in one of the worst neighbourhoods in the city wasn’t exactly helping. Upstairs in the warehouse Detective Gannon Malloy was inspecting the bodies of two dead vagrants. Dick had caught a glimpse of them earlier but Malloy’s partner Amy Rohrbach had ushered him out before he’d got a proper look. Malloy was a good person, one of the few clean cops in Blüdhaven, but he wasn’t a particularly good detective. Rohrbach on the other hand was natural police. It just so happened that she hated Dick’s guts for some reason. Dick had watched as Amy had left in her car and counted the seconds until the call came down from Gannon. He’d made it to sixteen by the time he heard the detective’s voice.

“Get your ass in here, Grayson.”

Dick climbed the rotten stairs of the warehouse and knelt beside Malloy beside the two bodies. Both men were covered in cuts and bruises, they looked like they’d been there for two days at the very least, and their mouths were stained orange.

“What do we have this time?”

Malloy pulled a pen from his pocket and lifted a vial that lay beside one of the bodies.

“I need you to take a look at this. There’s some kind of orange residue around the victim’s mouths, the same residue lines the edges of these vials, but I have no idea what it might be. I've never seen anything like it. You got any ideas?”

Dick inspected it for a few seconds and drew a blank. “It definitely doesn’t look like any drug I’ve encountered before.”

“Fuck, Redhorn’s breathing down my neck bad enough as it is. If I don’t turn these two black I reckon he’s going to send me back to Traffic. He’s had it out for me ever since I told that joke at the Christmas P-”

From behind Dick and Gannon the floorboards creaked loudly enough to stop Malloy mid-sentence. Stood in the doorway to the warehouse was Amy Rohrbach with two coffees in her hand. She scowled in Dick’s direction.

“What’s going on?”

Gannon climbed to his feet and cleared his throat. “Dick was just giving me a hand.”

Amy continued to stare at Dick. The contempt dripped from her eyes. They didn’t once move away from Grayson, even as Gannon had spoke, and as Rohrbach’s eyes rested on him Dick couldn’t help but feel like Amy was on to him. He didn’t know how she could have known but there was something in those eyes that Grayson couldn’t explain, even with all his years of training. After a few seconds of awkward silence Rohrbach spoke up.

“Are you a detective, Grayson?”

Dick opened his mouth to answer but Gannon leapt to his defence. “Come on, Amy, give the kid a break. He’s just trying to help out. You know the kid’s got an eye for these kind of things.”

She shot Malloy a look that froze him in his tracks and then looked back towards Dick. “Are you a detective, Officer Grayson?”

Dick cleared his throat awkwardly and stood up from his kneeling position.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then I would appreciate it if you’d stop playing at being one and start doing your actual job,” Amy said as she brusquely shoved one of the coffees into Gannon’s hands. “We have a perimeter that needs securing.”

Malloy smiled sympathetically at Dick as he made his way out of the room. Dick didn’t blame him for not speaking up more, Gannon was a housecat, and there weren’t many men in Blüdhaven Police Department that could get Amy Rohrbach to back down. She had the best clearance rate in BPD’s Homicide Division and the fewest friends. In a police department as corrupt as the BPD Dick considered that a virtue.

The door to the warehouse slammed shut and the bitter cold hit Dick like a freight train to the chest. He tucked his hands back into his trousers and let out a sigh as he wondered how long he’d be stuck outside when he could be out on the street actually helping people. Either way, he’d make up for it tonight.

In the distance a familiar form shuffled into sight. The flowing burgundy coat, the tie-dyed shirt, and the messy grey afro that was crammed beneath a tatty old black hat that could be seen from two planet’s away. He was several decade’s older than his namesake and Dick was sure he’d given himself the nickname but he was one of Grayson’s most trusted informants all the same. “Hendrix” spent his days lugging an old, rusted, three-stringed guitar across Blüdhaven. He busked in stations, parks, and the occasional doorway despite barely being able to play a note. He was a fiend, one of many that lived on the city's streets, but his information was always reliable.

“Officer Grayson,” Hendrix said with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Boy, am I glad to see you, Hendrix. We’ve got two bodies up there, homeless from the look of it, both with this orange gunk around their mouth. Vials scattered around the scene with that same gunk on it. You got something for me?”

A wry smile crept across Hendrix’s face. “You know I’ve always got something for you, Officer Grayson, if the price is right.”

Dick smiled and reached into his wallet. He opened it and pushed past the picture of his parents and Dick in their Flying Grayson days to a stash of notes he kept in the back. He pulled one out, took a gentle glance at the picture of his parents, and then slammed the wallet shut.

“A Blüdhaven police officer being robbed in the cold light of day and no one lift’s a finger to stop it,” Dick said with a chuckle as he handed Hendrix the note. “What’s this city coming to, eh?”

Hendrix held the note up to the sky and then nodded his approval. “Sounds like that new package out. They call it Schizo. Good shit too if you believe what the fiends are saying about it. I’ve been hearing word of some nasty side effects…”

“Side effects?”

“Yeah, they don’t call that shit Schizo for nothing. You bottom out on that shit it’ll have you talking to yourself, happy one minute and sad the next, and that’s if you’re one of the lucky ones. You hear about that suicide over on Avalon Hill a week back?”

Dick nodded.

“Schizo,” Hendrix said with a smile. “It’ll fuck with your mind if you’re not careful, man.”

“Any idea who’s moving it?”

“Heh, I tell you that and word comes back on me, I’m a dead man,” Hendrix shrugged. “I like you, Grayson, but I don’t like you that much. You feel me?”

Dick nodded and outstretched his hand towards him. “I feel you, Hendrix, stay safe out there.”

“Always do,” Hendrix muttered as he shook Grayson’s hand and pulled the guitar over his shoulder up a little. “Always do, my man.”

Dick watched as he disappeared off into the distance. He ran through the facts of the case in his head as he watched his breath turn to steam in front of his face: two dead, no suspects, and a new hallucinogenic on the streets of Blüdhaven. Dick had tried to keep his work separate from what he did at night, from his other life, especially when it was a case being worked by his friends. This time, though, it seemed like he didn’t have much choice. Officer Richard Grayson wasn’t going to be enough on this one.

This was a job for Nightwing.

January 3rd, 2016
City Hall
Star City, CA

The thick, wooden doors leading into the city council chamber burst open and out rushed Oliver Queen. He wore a black suit three-piece suit with a white shirt and an emerald tie, his usual council meeting attire. Ollie kept his hands in his pocket as he stalked through the halls back towards his office.

"Councilman Queen!"

A small gaggle of reporters chased after him down the corridor. He stopped and turned around. There were a few newspaper men, the lady from Channel 6 with a camera hoisted on her shoulder, and a radio reporter with a handheld voice recorder. Ollie brushed his lapels and took a deep breath as they swooped in on him.

One of the newspaper men spoke first. "We saw you leaving the chamber in a huff. You don't agree with the majority decision."

"Considering I voted against it, Mike, that'd be a no." He winked at the reporter before flashing a grin. "Regular Bob Woodward you are."

A titter went through the group. Now that he had made them laugh, Ollie went on the offensive.

"This franchise tax was one of my key promises when I ran for office, guys. Of course I'm going to be a little sore when I get voted down by short-sighted people who are just worried about reelection. This tax was a step towards the big companies that are slowly working their hooks into Star City"

"Critics of the tax argue that it's a pay to play scenario designed to drown out smaller competitors," the TV lady said.

Ollie thrust a finger forward. "No, it's a tax on the companies who are already making a hefty profit on our city. They big companies have done a fine job drowning out the smaller competitors on their own. They don't need our help."

The radio reporter said, "What do you say to Councilman Conklin's arguments that those companies are responsible for the stability in Star City?"

"They were an asset in a time of peril," said Ollie. "But the time of crisis has passed. We must let regulation and government lead the way. Conklin might be against that seeing as how he was selected as El Dorado Power & Water's Man of the Year this year. The franchise tax would help shift the balance of power back to the government, as will keeping the SCPD away from Thornguard."

The TV reporter asked, "Thornguard Security's work in other towns shows that in six months alone it can be more effective than the Star City PD has ever been. They even promise a drop off in Green Arrow sightings."

Ollie shook his head. "The towns they've worked in before aren't Star City. They're smaller and more affluent and less ethnically diverse. It's easy to police Mayberry. Comparing Thornguard's work in those towns against SCPD statistics is unfair. And to answer your Green Arrow question, with the brutality and excessive violence complaints Thornguard has gotten over the years, I'm sure Green Arrow has already been added to their payroll."

Another laugh from the reporters gave Ollie a chance to wrap up the questions.

"If we allow Thornguard to take over emergency services, then there will be four companies that are dangerously close to running the day to day affairs of this city. We have to scale back their control and influence and make sure its the voice of the people, not the voice of profit margins, are in control of our local government. That's all for now, folks. Thanks."

He held his hands up and backed away from the reporters before turning around and heading up two flights to his office on the third floor. The small space wasn't much to look at it, barely larger than a cubicle and with no window. It was identical to all the council offices. All eight city councilors shared office space on the third floor as well as Doris, a collective secretary. The job was only part-time anyway. Ollie never hung around the place much if there was no need for it, he preferred to be at the Mission or on the streets.

Sitting down behind his desk, Ollie sighed and thought of the events of the last few days. The funeral in Metropolis was rough for everyone there. Clark had been like a rock for the League throughout the years and now he was gone. Then Mia informed him she was staying in Metropolis to help out. That hurt almost as worse as losing Superman. He wanted to beg her to stay, to force her not to leave. But she was grown and could make her own decisions. It just worried Ollie like hell her being out there. After all if Superman could be killed, what hope did the rest of the world have?

"Brave new world," he said softly to himself as he stood up and walked towards the coark board on the wall. Everyone called it his conspiracy board, but it helped him keep track of things. He had the names of all three major companies and what they did for Star City listed with interconnecting lines running between the companies where their duties may overlap. There was:

Hephaestus: Building and road construction
El Dorado Power & Water: Utilities
California Transportation Trust: Mass transit

It was a libertarian's wet dream, a city where private companies provided the lion's share of services with minimal oversight by the municipal government. In theory, the government would get the best services for the cheapest cost. The great business experiment they had called it three years ago when the city council approved it. But so far the great experiment wasn't panning out. The city went with the three companies because they were the only ones who ever placed bids. Anybody who did place a bid ended up pulling out suddenly and one of the other three got the job. The shady nature of the whole affair is why he got back into politics and ran for the city council. So far he was the only person on the council trying to raise awareness. He knew most of the city council and Mayor Fitzroy were getting some sort of support from the companies, but he couldn't prove it.

The overlap between the three companies made it a tangled mess. CTT supplied Hephaestus with the heavy machinery it needed, El Dorado got the power trucks. Hephaestus maintained the roads and rails CTT's buses and trains operated on. And now Thornguard was getting thrown into the mix. Its bids for emergency service was low as anything possible for a privatized police, fire, and paramedic force. Odds on the cars would come from CTT and their facilities would be maintained by Hephaestus. If the Thornguard bill was approved, the four companies would begin to settle over the city like a net and tighten until everyone was so used to their work and rates of pay nobody would argue. And that was when the prices would increase. That's how monopolies worked. Once the octopus got its tentacles in, it flexed them and strangled the life out of its prey. Ollie knew it was wrong on the surface, but something in his gut told him it went deeper. This combination, as shady as it was, had something darker lurking beneath the surface.

He rubbed his head and sighed. Ollie had a plan, more like the makings of a plan, but it was being blocked by the mayor and the rest of the city council. He was just one man against nine others, seven plus the mayor. He'd be checked and outvoted every time. He stood and headed out of his office before the rest of the councilmen got back from the meeting. The powers that be were blocking him, but they sure as hell hadn't counted on the Green Arrow looking into the matter.

Solomon Grundy always loved train rides. He didn't know why, but the constant hum of the tracks beneath the cars and the methodical movement of the locomotive felt so very familiar. So when Professor Ivo told Grundy that he and Star Sapphire would be robbing a train, he quickly accepted. Sapphire was apprehensive about the idea of working with a giant lumbering zombie, but once the two were acquainted, she seemed willing to give it a go. The two villains now sat side by side on a train from the Metro-North railroad, chugging swiftly down the North Haven line. The two of them were in disguise, of course. A pair of super villains waltzing onto a train holding precious cargo wouldn't fly with the cops. Ivo informed the two that ARGUS was using the passenger train to secretly transport the head of his android, AMAZO. Apparently Ivo had hired numerous teams of villains to rob various other ARGUS facilities of AMAZO parts as well. The operations were meant to take place simultaneously, something that Star Sapphire explained meant at the same time. This confused Grundy. But he went along with the plan anyway. He wasn't exactly known for his brains and he accepted that fact.

Another thing that confused Grundy was the disguise he'd been given by Professor Ivo. It was some sort of special wrist watch; but it didn't tell time or nothin'. It just kinda sat there and looked pretty. Ivo had said that it did something along the lines of creating an optical illusion around Solomon Grundy's body. It was meant to make him appear semi-normal. Grundy wondered how that worked. What did "semi-normal" mean? He was a 7'5, 517 pound hulking monster of swamp junk. What would that look like to normal people? Solomon turned his massive head to the side, looking at Star Sapphire. She didn't need a fancy watch. All she wore were some normal people clothes that obscured her face. She still dressed in mostly pink, though. Must be a habit of hers. Sapphire lowered her sunglasses to glare at Grundy, silently telling him off for staring. So the bleached giant turned away and examined the rest of the train car they were in. There were plenty of other passengers. A pair of children were playing with action figures nearby. A very round man was sleeping, his head rested on his neighbor's shoulder. That was all normal. But the two men standing at the back of the train, garbed in black combat fatigues and wielding high-powered assault weapons, did not look normal. They must be the ARGUS agents that Ivo warned Grundy and Star Sapphire about.

One of the guards turned towards Grundy and silently returned his stare. The zombie spun back around, sliding down his seat. Maybe he wouldn't notice Grundy if Grundy slouched. Star Sapphire did something that sounded like a combination of a groan and a sigh. Maybe Grundy shouldn't slouch so much. Slouching was bad for Grundy's posture; that's what the Calculator had told him. He trusted the Calculator; the Calculator was a very smart man. He knew what he was talking about. He told Grundy so. That is why Solomon believed him. He could never imagine that the Calculator would have lied to him. Liars were not very nice. But Calculator was nice to Grundy. So he couldn't be a liar.

Star Sapphire pulled a cellphone from her pocket and looked at the time. She nudged Grundy's arm, and then motioned with her head toward the two ARGUS guards at the back of the train. Grundy nodded. He understand what the pink lady wanted. They had gone over the plan before they got on the train. Solomon Grundy forced himself out of the tiny train car seat and stood up to his full height. He moved to the back of the train car, approaching the humorless ARGUS soldiers. "Uhhhh." Grundy started. Wait. What was the plan? He was supposed to say something. Uh oh. Star Sapphire told him to remember this part. It was something simple. What was it? "What?" The guard asked sharply. This caused Grundy to panic. He didn't know what to say. Well, it was time for plan B. Grundy socked the guard in the jaw, sending him crumbling to the floor, unconscious. The second guard went for his rifle but Solomon was faster, grabbing a hold of the ARGUS agent's face and tossing him to the other side of the train.

People panicked and screamed. Grundy tried to hush a nearby child who had begun to cry. Star Sapphire floated out of her seat, her clothes changing in a flash of pink light into her more familiar lantern uniform. "You idiot!" She yelled as he approached the back of the train. "You were supposed to ask them where the bathroom was. Not punch him in the face!" Grundy shrugged. "Grundy sorry. I forgot the plan." Star Sapphire groaned. She fired a bright coral-colored energy bolt into the door, blowing it off its hinges. "Just grab the head. We'll talk about this later. Ugh. _{Can't believe I got stuck with you.}"

Solomon Grundy ducked underneath the door frame and made his way into the back of the train. This part of the locomotive was supposedly restricted to civilian passengers; there was a hefty fine and possible imprisonment involved if someone was caught snooping around back here when they weren't supposed to be. A trio of ARGUS agents were standing around the room, examining various metal crates and wooden boxes. They turned to face the attacking super villains when the door came flying off its hinges, crashing into a shelf and knocking down its contents. Bullets were fired. A deafening roar echoed throughout the tiny train car as the guards pulled their firearms. Solomon Grundy charged forward, stomping on the spilled cargo and slamming into the ARGUS men. He thrashed the soldiers, their bullets bouncing off his hardened skin without the slightest tickle.

"Grundy crush you!"

The zombie slapped the last of the guard into the wall, his head whipping backwards into the metal siding. He fell to the floor, unconscious. Star Sapphire hovered lazily behind Grundy as they moved into the next car. There, the villain team encountered seven more ARGUS troopers. They didn't last long, with Star Sapphire easily blocking their weapons fire with her auto-shields and knocking them about using her ring's constructs. Grundy helped too, his physical dominance proving too much for the agents to handle. None of their weapons were even putting a scratch on the Justice League-level threats. Grundy and Sapphire reached the final car, the caboose, within twenty minutes. There they encountered the worst of the resistance. The ARGUS guards had set up a tripod mounted laser cannon and were armed with various types of grenade launchers and .50 caliber machine guns. Grundy charged head first into the room, tanking the constant heat of the laser all the way in. He smashed one of his giant fists into the weapon, turning it to splinters with a single strike. Star Sapphire blasted away a group of ARGUS men armed with machine guns during her entrance. These guys lasted about...a minute and a half longer than everyone else.

There was only a single crate in the room. Star Sapphire flew over to it, pushing it off the shelf into Grundy's waiting arms. "Let's get this thing back to Ivo before anyone else shows up." She said. Grundy nodded, smiling. "No heroes will catch Grundy. He is-"

Just then, the entire train shook.

Someone was on the roof.

---

09:10 PM
Suicide Slums, Metropolis

---

She could hear the screams from her apartment. Loud and shrill, about a block away, panicked cries for help going without answer no matter how loud their owner yelled. Mia clenched her fists as she moved to don her costume. She expected this from Star City, or Gotham – cries for help going unheeded, those in trouble ignored – but from Metropolis? The City of Tomorrow? No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in Superman’s city.

But Superman was dead. Dead, along with the creature that killed him. And the criminals of Metropolis, the scumbags that usually hid in the shadows in fear of facing the Man of Steel, thought that that presented them an opportunity, an opportunity to claim the streets as their own. But they weren’t going to go unopposed. Not for as long as Speedy was in town.

Bow in hand, quiver strapped to her back, Mia pushed open her apartment’s window; one of two in the entire space. With it open, the screams sounded even louder, more desperate. Without hesitation, Mia leapt out of her fourth-floor accommodation, landing on the neighbouring building’s fire escape. Climbing it up onto the roof, she spared herself a quick glance over the Slums, taking in its hopelessness, its unbridled chaos. It was a far cry from the Metropolis everyone knew. Poverty, crime and corruption were the dominant powers in this neighbourhood, an air of misery ever present in its grime-covered streets. Ramshackle storefronts and apartment complexes mingled with shady pubs and nightclubs, brothels and streetwalkers as abundant as strays. It was like Metropolis’ own private Gotham. A hell within heaven. A paradise lost.

Mia ran, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, nearing the source of the screams with every step. This wasn’t her first time in costume without Oliver or Connor. She’d been in the Slums for nearly a week now, and she’d had her fair share of solo patrols in Star City. But that didn’t stop it from feeling any less weird. It didn’t stop her from feeling any less out of place.

Her estimation was right. She found the screamer one block east of her apartment, hounded by three men, large and ugly, backed into the corner of a dead-end alley. They were abusing the woman, violently tugging her between each other, each desperate to have a go, laughing at her attempts to escape.

Mia couldn’t help the growl that formed in her throat. Those men reminded her of her father. Chauvinistic, sick, perverted pigs, seeking no one’s pleasure but their own. She couldn’t stand for that. With a well-aimed shot, she launched an arrow through the furthest man’s hand, pinning it to the wall behind him. She jumped down from her perch on the fire escape as he let loose a shriek of pain, a higher pitch than his victim’s; despite herself, Mia couldn’t help a small smirk. The other two men turned to face her, shock and confusion fighting for control on their faces, before the latter won out, settling comfortably on their features. Behind them, the woman backed up further into the corner, curling into a ball.

“The hell are you?” asked one of the two, deftly ignoring the third’s agonised cries. He was bulky, and wide, his jaw hard-set. Mia called him Burly.

“Speedy,” she said, nocking another arrow.

The second man, also of significant bulk – Blocky – spoke up. “Who?”

“Yeah. You ain’t no Supergirl,” added Burly.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you idiots leave this woman alone.”

“H-hang on,” began the third man, between gasps of pain, “I-I recognise her. Sh-she’s the G-Green Arrow’s sidekick.”

Mia flushed red as Burly and Blocky erupted into a fit of laughter.

“The Green Arrow’s sidekick? They sent that klutz’s side-chick to replace Supes?’ exclaimed Burly, clutching his stomach. Tears were rolling down his face.

“What the hell were they thinking?!” added Blocky, before exploding into laughter once more.

Mia glowered, aiming her bow at Burly's leg. She was going to enjoy this.

Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

"Who are the new guys?" Rick Flag asked Amanda Waller. The two sat in Waller's office at Belle Reve. The entire far wall behind Waller's desk was one massive screen sectioned off into eighteen smaller monitors. Flag's eyes were on the image of two guards leading two shackled prisoners through the halls of Belle Reve's basement. One was tall and skinny with a large collar on his neck, the other was short and balding with a stomach that his tight fitting clothes could barely contain.

Waller turned swiveled in her chair and looked at the screen over her reading glasses.

"Ah. The skinny one is John Nichols aka Baxter Timmons. Timmons was a graduate assistant of a Neal Emerson, professor at NYU. Emerson and Timmons were working on an experiment with magnets when they got fried by some kind of magnetic field. Emerson died, but Timmons was given some kind of magnetic powers. Naturally he turned to a life of crime. Calls himself Dr. Polaris. We've got a collar on him that neutralizes his powers. We'll take it off when it comes time for a mission."

"And the little guy?" Flag asked.

"Name's Issac Bowin, he was a concert violinist and talented. Two and a half years ago, he was in a car wreck and busted his leg up. Bowin got addicted to pain pills and his addiction ruined his career. A few months ago, he killed a drug dealer because he wouldn't give him some pills."

"So what can he do?"

"Nothing yet," Waller said, turning away from the monitor. She stood and motioned towards a violin case on a table by the door. Flag stood and walked over to it with her behind him.

"Tell me, Flag, what do you know about the superhero boom in the 30's and 40's?"

"Not much," Flag said with a shrug. "I know about the Justice Society, but that's really it."

"Well, there was a hero from the midwest had super speed, kind of like the Flash... I think he was called the Flash too but I can't remember. Point is he used to lock horns with some fool called the Fiddler. He had this violin that could do all kinds of crazy things. The Fiddler died in a fight with the speedster and the government managed to recover his violin. This is it."

Waller popped open the case and carefully removed a dull brown violin. She gingerly held it up for Flag to see. He was no music expert, but as far as he could tell it was a boring run of the mill music instrument.

"Government has tried for years to get people to play it and use it like Fiddler did, none of them could do it. Before he got the monkey on his back, Bowin was arguably one of the best violin player in the world. If anyone can get it to work, it's him."

"Speaking of working," said Flag. "When's our next mission?"

"Working on it," Waller said. "You know how intelligence work is. Rome wasn't built in a day, Commander..."

"We've been down for a month now, Waller."

"It's coming soon," Waller said with a placating pat on Flag's shoulder. "CIA is gathering intel for me. Once they have something concrete, we'll get a mission plan drafted and ready to go."

"The CIA works for you. Tell me, Mrs. Waller...what exactly is your role in the intelligence community?"

"It's simple, son," Waller said with a smirk. "I am the United States intelligence community."

While Flag and Waller talked, two levels below two men wrestled on a blue mat. The tall, muscular white man tried his best to hit the smaller and skinnier black man, but he was too slow and received a sharp kick to the sides.

"Too slow," Ben Turner, Bronze Tiger, said as he danced away from his opponent.

"I know," William Heller, White Dragon, said with a not too friendly smile. "But your type was built for speed, wasn't it? Bred for it, really."

"You keep talking that racist bullshit and I'll have to take it up a notch."

"Bring it on, boy..."

Turner pushed his anger down. Heller's shtick was to get him riled up and unfocused. Turner had no special powers like Heller or the others on the team. If he got too sloppy with Heller the man could crush him like a bug. He had no doubt Heller would do it if given the chance. After all, he was already in the Suicide Squad, what was the worst Waller could do him?

Turner moved quickly and with purpose. Heller's superior strength was neutralized by Turner's quickness. It was like watching a jackrabbit dart around an ox. Turner slapped Heller in three quick pressure points, sending shockwaves of pain ripping through the bigger man's body. His skin was nigh invulnerable, but his nerve endings were just as susceptible as anyone else's.

"Goddamn," Heller screamed as he collapsed to his knees. "You fucking--"

"It's not about how hard you hit," Turner said softly. "It's about where you hit. That lesson is for free... boy."

Heller's legs spasmed in pain and left him unable to move while Turner quietly turned away and walked off the mat.

-----

48 Hours Later
Over The Atlantic

The cargo plane bounced around from turbulence. Inside the hold, leaning against a crate of canned peaches, was Flag. He was dozing, his M4 in his lap. To his right, Heller was swaying on the floor of the plane with a cigarette in his mouth. Dr. Polaris held on to a crate away from the others. He had a sick look on his face as the plane rocked. Nightshade lay on the only cot set up inside the cargo hold, her eyes closed and her breathing slow and steady.

"You awake, Flag?" The voice of Amanda Waller chirped in his ear.

"I'm here," Flag said, not opening his eyes as he spoke. "I trust you finally have a briefing ready?"

"Just basics. The finer details are above your pay grade."

"Why am I not shocked? Go ahead. I guess something is better than nothing."

"Take what you can get," Waller said. Flag heard the shuffling of papers on her end before she started. "For the past eight months, we've had an undercover intelligence officer placed inside the terrorist organization known as Kobra. He's been delivering us top-grade intel. Thirty-six hours ago, the undercover agent went into red alert mode. He was under the belief that he had been made, his identity had been compromised. He bolted from Kobra's HQ in Egypt and took a plane of South Africa. He's in Cape Town as we speak, awaiting evac. He's your mission. Get him stateside safely."

"What's the tradecraft for meeting him?" Flag asked with a glance towards the sleeping Nightshade.

"I'm getting that information from his handlers as we speak. Soon as I know it, I'll relay it to you."

"One more thing...," Flag said, his eyes drifting over to Polaris and then the resting Heller. "Why Polaris and White Dragon? Why not Ben or Vertigo?"

"Turner's not feeling well. Despite his protests, him going on this mission is the last thing we need. Sick men make mistakes. Vertigo is useless until he fixes his eyepiece. That fool in Pakistan blew it apart and it'll take some time to fix. Anything else, Commander?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Your plane should land in Cape Town in about five hours. One last thing, this man is of the highest priority to US intelligence. He has been deeper inside a terrorist organization than any undercover to date. His knowledge is priceless. So, you either come back with our undercover...or you don't come home at all. Waller out."

With that, the line went dead. Flag shook his head and laid down. He curled up on the floor of the cargo plane with the assault rifle firmly in his hands.

Parkthorne Avenue, Blüdhaven

Dick slotted the second of his Escrima sticks into the slot on the back of his Nightwing uniform and prepared to leave his apartment. As he reached the door he spotted the phone beside it and punched a button on it to play his messages. It had been more than a week since he’d been home long enough to listen to them. After what had happened to Clark he’d cut himself off from everyone and thrown himself into his work at Blüdhaven Police Department. It was selfish, he knew that, and he was going to remedy it once he’d had the chance. Once he’d brought whoever was pumping this Schizo drug onto Blüdhaven’s street he would. The first of the messages played and an animated voice came through the speaker that Dick recognised in an instance.

“Dick, it’s Gar, where the hell have you been hiding, man? Look, I know you’re busy in Blüdhaven and we’re all really proud of what you’re trying to do there but… I guess… I miss you, man, and I know nobody else has the stones to say it but everyone misses you. Things haven’t been right here since… Y’know, since the whole Doomsday thing, and I think everyone could do with having you around. I mean, even Raven seems depressed. Come visit us some time soon, Boy Wonder.”

A guilty smile appeared on Dick’s face as his thoughts went to his Young Justice teammates. He clicked through to the next message and listened vacantly as he tried to remember who the next voice belonged to.

“Hey Tiger, remember me? It’s Mary from the other night. I had a really good time and I was hoping maybe we could do it again sometime. Maybe we could out to eat beforehand this time? Or if you’re feeling adventurous we could e-”

With a swift click Dick went to the next message. He could barely remember meeting Mary in some bar a few days after the Doomsday Incident. His hurt was still raw then, it still bled from him like an open wound, and he needed something and someone to stem that bleed. He’d thrown himself into her arms without a second thought for fear of sleeping alone. It was a mistake. One he regretted deeply and wished had never happened. His regret only deepened when he heard the next voice.

“Dick, it’s Barbara, given everything that’s happened over the past week I think we should talk. I know how important Clark was to you. We’re all hurting. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone, Dick, no one should have to. Call me when you get this message. Please.”

A pained sigh slipped from Dick’s lips as the message ended. Babs was the love of his life. She had stood by him through the good times and the bad. Bruce had given Dick purpose and meaning after his parents had died but it was Barbara Gordon that had taught him how to love again. It was her strength after what the Joker had done to her that had given Dick the courage to strike out on his own. Yet stood there, his fingers floating desperately close to the phone, he couldn’t bring himself to find the courage to call her back. Dick slammed the secret door to his apartment shut behind him and took to the rooftops of Blüdhaven to ease his pain.

His target tonight was Vincenzo “Vinnie” Lagorio. If there was anyone in this city that would know who was behind this Schizo drug it would be him. Lagorio had married into the Lagorio crime family that ran Blüdhaven’s east side. Once upon a time the Lagorio’s owned all of Blüdhaven. That was before Blockbuster came along. The metahuman had taken three-quarters of the Lagorio’s territory and eliminated most of the Lagorio enforcers. What was left was a rabble. Vinnie had seen the writing on the wall early and defected over to Blockbuster’s side before it was too late. Now he served as a mid-level enforcer to the metahuman though to Vinnie’s credit he spent more time avoiding trouble than he did causing it.

He found the enforcer leant against a balcony at “The Rail” rooftop bar in Avalon Hill knocking back whiskeys on his own. He was in his fifties, overweight, with a full head of grey hair and bushy black eyebrows. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of millennials.

Dick fired his rappel gun towards the bar and zipped over unseen. As he climbed inside he made his presence known to other revelers and unbeknownst to Lagorio they began to filter out of the bar cautiously. Once only Vinnie and Dick were left behind, Dick lifted a drink that had been discarded and sipped it as he leant beside the balcony next to Lagorio. He smiled cheekily as he eyed Vinnie and waited for him to spot him. The old Sicilian wa sin a world of his own.

After about fifteen seconds of staring at the Blüdhaven skyline emptily Lagorio noticed the bar had fallen silent. He turned his head to Dick and staggered backwards with shock.

“How’s it going, Vinnie?”

The whiskey fell from Lagorio’s hand as he lifted his hands into the air as a sign of submission. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, I’m not looking for no trouble, man.”

“Come on, Vinnie, don’t insult my intelligence. I know you’re working as Blockbuster’s middleman to your in-laws.”

Vinnie looked at Dick dumbfoundedly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dick sighed, took another sip of his drink, and stared down at the cars trapped in gridlock on the ground beneath them.

“The only reason you’re not sat in a jail cell somewhere with seven of your fingers broken is because somehow you’ve managed to stop Blüdhaven from turning into a war-zone. I appreciate that, Vinnie, I really do. With that being said, you are still a criminal and I’m still… well, me. So you’re going to have to help me out a little if you want to stay our of prison.”

Suddenly the doors to The Rail burst open and two muscle-bound men in black suits and black sunglasses burst through. In their hands were Uzis trained at Dick. Without so much as breaking a sweat Dick launched the glass in his hand at one of them, rolled forwards, and pulled an Escrima stick from his back to sweep the other man’s leg out from beneath him. Dick jabbed the stick into the glassed man’s side and sent a shock of electricity through him that knocked him out. He slammed the butt of his stick into the other man's forehead and knocked him out cold. He kicked their guns away and then paced towards Lagorio who was was frozen in place.

Dick dragged Vinnie towards the balcony by his collar with a grimace. “Two men are dead because of this “Schizo” drug and I need to know who’s moving it.”

“That’s not us, man, I swear to God that’s not us.”

“Not good enough.”

He pushed Vinnie over the edge and dangled him for a few seconds. The enforcer screamed at the top of his voice and flailed wildly.

“Okay!” Vinnie shouted as he tapped on Dick’s arm desperately. “Pull me up already.”

Dick pulled him up and dumped him on the ground at his feet.

“It’s not us and it’s not the Lagorio family either,” Vinnie muttered as he rested his back against the balcony. “The boss man is steaming because that Schizo shit is out-selling our package. We’re losing money and we’re losing it fast. From what I hear so are the Lagorios. There’s even talk of a ceasefire until we get the freak that’s trying to muscle in on our territory.”

Dick brandished a stick in his direction. “Give me a name.”

“It’s Dent,” Vinnie said with his head in his hands. “It’s Two-Face, man, Harvey-fricking-Dent.”

“See? Was that so hard?”

Dick pulled a twenty from an abandoned wallet on a table beside the balcony and threw it in Lagorio’s direction. It was still fluttering towards the enforcer as Dick mounted the balcony and took aim with his rappel gun. As it landed in Vinnie’s lap Dick took one last look towards him and smiled playfully as he pulled the trigger.

“Buy yourself a drink on me.”

The Batcave
Gotham City, NJ
December 25, 2015
6 AM

The large screen of the central computer in the Batcave shone in the darkness like a supernova in the inky blackness of space. On it, scenes of Metropolis and Superman’s death played out on loop, as they would for weeks. The Batman sat in front of the screen, his cowl discarded carelessly on the damp cave floor. The hair that would normally be seen as immaculately displayed in Bruce Wayne’s public appearances was caked with sweat and dried blood. Scrapes and cuts adorned his face, but his eyes were locked on the screen. They could do nothing else but watch the frantic reports about his best friend’s death. And they needed to watch, because there were clues here. He knew there had to be.

“Perhaps you should get some rest, Master Bruce,” Alfred Pennyworth said from the shadows. The old, English gentleman stepped into the glow of the monitor, a worried look on his face. “There is the Wayne Foundation charity event later in the day. You were scheduled to be there.”

Bruce was silent for agonizing moments. He knew Alfred was merely looking out for him. The butler wanted to get his mind off the events of the night before. Pennyworth had done it numerous times throughout Wayne’s career as Batman, and it nearly always worked. But it wouldn’t this time. This time it was different.

“Let them know I won’t be going,” he finally said with a gruff tone. “Make something up. You’re good at that.”

Alfred shifted uneasily at the edge of the computer’s light. He fought against saying anything more, but he was unable to hold his tongue. He had watched Bruce tear himself apart far too often for that. He approached the vigilante and put his hand on his shoulder, “Bruce, I know how much he meant to you. How much he meant to all of us. But staring at this is not going to bring him back. All it will do is eat at you.”

Batman breathed deep, patting his friend’s hand with understanding, “I know it won’t bring Clark back, Alfred. But it will lead me to whoever killed him.”

The butler recoiled, clearly unsure of where Wayne’s head was at, “Master Bruce...that thing killed him.”

“No,” Bruce said firmly. “That thing was just a weapon. I want who ever fired it.”

A few keystrokes on the computer ceased the news broadcasts and replaced them with a map of Doomsday’s rampage. Bruce scoffed at the name “Doomsday”, but that’s what the media had settled on, the fatalist bunch that they were. The origin point was a comet strike in western Pennsylvania, and the line ended in Metropolis.

“Look,” Bruce started a timelapse, “it crash lands outside Pittsburgh, and makes a direct route to Metropolis. A straight line. The only time it even slowed down was when the JLI tried to get in its way. Other than that, it was going to one place. Once it was at Metropolis, it just started killing. It was sent to draw us out, and it was sent to get to Superman specifically.”

“My word,” Alfred gasped, “do you think it was alien in origin?”

“I’m not ruling out anything,” Bruce shook his head. “But I am going to find where it came from.”

The footsteps behind him told Bruce that Alfred had retreated back to the manor defeated in his attempt to break the hold his grief had over him. Many would cry on this Christmas morning. That Bruce Wayne knew. He would not be one of them, however. Sadness was not the emotion that overcame him in the wee hours of that holiday morning. No, his heart was instead filled with defeat. Bruce had never told Clark, but the Dark Knight knew Superman was the true key to changing the world. Now that key was taken away from them, and they’d all have to work to stand a chance in this war.

“Computer,” Batman commanded the machine, “track Doomsday’s approach to Earth. Might tell us something.”

“Affirmative, Batman,” the computer responded.

Bruce sighed, waited for the result, and put his head in his hands.



Metropolis, DE
January 1, 2016

Kara’s speech was poignant, and, if Bruce was being honest with himself, something he needed to hear. He still wasn’t sure if anyone or anything could fill in for the loss of Clark, but at least she was trying her hardest. He knew none of them would be happy he wasn’t sitting next to them on this day and was instead watching from a distance, but he had work to do, that much was for sure. As Supergirl’s words concluded, he climbed back into the Batwing and prepared to return to Gotham.

“Batman,” Oracle’s voice came over the comm link, “you copy.”

“Affirmative,” Bruce’s voice cracked slightly under the emotional stress. He cursed at himself in his head. Wayne prided himself on keeping in control at all times. Even that small slip up was a mistake to him, even if it would have been understood. He had just heard the eulogy of his best friend. “What’s the situation.”

“You know the pieces of Amazo that ARGUS is transporting?” Babs responded, ignoring Bruce’s mental state.

“You mean the ones they’re losing,” Batman deadpanned. ARGUS had been trying to separate the pieces of Professor Ivo’s Amazo android to ensure it was never recovered and reassembled. Batman had argued against giving the agency jurisdiction over them, believing they weren’t equipped to deal with them. He was right, of course. They weren’t and now everything had been taken beside the head in the week that was filled with chaos due to Clark’s death.

“Yea,” Oracle chuckled. “Well I just intercepted a transmission that their moving the final piece.”

“And if you intercepted it-”

“That means Ivo probably did too,” Oracle finished his sentence.

“I’m on it.”



Before long, Batman was over the train carrying the part of Amazo, which according to Oracle was already under attack. He opened the commlink, “Oracle, do you have the layout of the train?”

“The cargo is the first three cars after the locomotive,” Oracle responded. “The last three are passenger cars where any civilians might be.”

“Copy,” Batman swooped the Batwing down over the connector of the back and front half of the train. With a few button presses, a small, controlled charge dropped onto the train connectors, separating the civilians and the location the villains would be. He then set the Batwing to autopilot and dropping onto the top of the cargo section of the train. He swung into the train, where he was greeted by a hulking, monstrous visage. He tossed a handful of explosive batarangs at his arms, causing him to drop the crate containing Amazo’s head.

Batman growled, “Grundy. Leave now and we don’t have to do this. Ivo is using you.”

December 25, 2015,
Christmas Eve,
Fawcett City

It had taken Billy Batson days of meticulous planning and a whole lot of saved up paper route money to put this plan into action. It had taken him slightly less long to wait until Freddy was asleep and climb out of their shared room through a window before clambering onto the roof. Sewing the prerequisite costume had taken even less time, but then comprehensive costume design knowledge from the Wisdom of Solomon and super sewing at the Speed of Mercury had a lot to do with that. But after all of that time and effort, Billy was sure the results would be worth it.

So when Captain Marvel received an emergency communique from the Justice League, he was standing on-top of Billy Batson's roof and already dressed in a surprisingly authentic Santa Claus costume with a bag of toys slung over one red, fake fur-trimmed shoulder. He had put enough effort in that he had to move the fake beard out of the way before he could reply to the summons, his tone chipper and eager to help as it always was when called upon by his allies in the greater superhero community.

"Batman! You're...not calling just to wish me Happy Holidays, are you? I was just about to deliver presents to all of the orphans of Fawcett City! Now, I know he doesn't need the extra help but I figured 'Hey, I'M a big, jolly magical guy in red who can fly around the world in one night too, so I'm sure he won't mind' right?' and-"

"Captain-"

"Oh come on Batman, you're not about to try and convince me Santa Claus isn't real are you? I mean, we live in a world of hyper-intelligent jet-powered apes and time-travel and you're drawing the line there? Where's your holiday spirit?"

"Actually I called to tell you that there's some sort of extra-terrestrial entity set to start rampaging through Pittsburgh. The rest of the Justice League International are already moving to engage with it."

Captain Marvel's face fell as he rose into the night with the bag of toys abandoned on the rooftop, spinning out of the handmade costume in the blink of an eye and once again wearing his signature lightning-bolt adorned attire.

"Holey-moley, that does sound serious! I'll be there faster than you can say 'Happy New Year!', Batman!"

The Caped Crusader might have said something more or maybe just rolled his eyes and sighed in aggravation at Captain Marvel's characteristic corniness, but his words were lost as the Big Red Cheese coursed toward Pittsburgh more rapid than eagles.

Who knew, maybe by the end of the night they'd have taught this new alien the meaning of Christmas.



Metropolis,
Centennial Park,
January 1st, 2016

It had seemed impossible to Billy Batson that Superman would ever die. Superman just was. He'd always been up there somewhere in the sky, not immediately present but always there at least in the back of Billy's mind, all-powerful, caring about everyone and just pretty darned reassuring like few other things could be. Sure, bad things still happened to people but in the end if things ever got really bad you could always count on Superman to save the day.

Superman had been his idol, his existence a comforting fixture in the orphan boy's life since he was six years old. When he'd gained powers of his own as Captain Marvel, Billy had even based a lot of what he did and how he acted off of how he thought Superman would act in his place. Even after Captain Marvel met the real Superman, he'd hardly been disappointed by what he'd found. Superman was just as good as he'd imagined but more real than he'd thought, a real person and at times even a friend. But really that just made his absence even more painful despite the short time they'd known each other and he couldn't even imagine how Supergirl and the other League members who had been closer to him were feeling.

So Captain Marvel's mood was one of somber, respectful silence as he stood with the rest of the Justice League, listening to the eulogy of not just his personal hero, but one of the greatest heroes the world had ever known. Supergirl's words resonated deeply with him, made him think back on how many times Superman had inspired him to carry on and be the best he could be when things in his life as both Billy and Captain Marvel had looked bleakest. Yes, they would have to have hope and they would have to fight on and as long as they did in memory of Superman, well it would be almost like he was still here with them, right?

Well, it made Billy feel better to think so, at least. So, he would do what he imagined Superman would want him to do if he were still here! Keep on choosing to fight for good, no matter how hard it got. Because being good, it was never about doing the right thing when it was easy. It was about continuing to believe in goodness when things got hard, no matter what the consequences were in the end. Superman had taught him that lesson, the first time they'd met. It was a lesson He had taught everyone on Christmas Eve during the Doomsday attack, and it was a lesson he'd chosen to stick by to the end.

Billy just hoped that someday when the time came, he would be able to do the same.

---

---

Centennial Park was well beyond its maximum capacity as the crowd of thousands had gathered to honour the Man of Steel. Standing under a yellow umbrella, Iris West stood with her crew from Central City Picture News as they like many other networks lined the streets reporting on the funeral.

“It’s with great sorrow that we’re coming to you live from the funeral for America’s favourite son.” Iris said into the camera as she shielded herself from the freezing rain. “After a horrific battle with the alien creature dubbed ‘Doomsday’, Superman managed to defeat the monster at the very unfortunate cost of his life. Friends, family and loved ones have gathered here today to not only honour the Man of Steel’s memory but to also commemorate his life and everything he stood for.”

Sitting with the rest of the members of the Justice League was Barry Allen, or as the public knew him, the Flash. His head was hung low as he slowly shook it in disbelief, up until last week he had never seen Superman bleed. He was the cornerstone of the league, their rock and their hope. To the world, he was invincible, the unstoppable ‘Man of Steel’. When Barry had grown old enough to stop looking up to comic book characters he had found other heroes. While some had been in his life longer than others like his foster father Joe, it didn’t make the impact that Clark had brought to him any less. Wiping a tear away from his eye as Kara finished speaking, her words ringing true as Barry reflected on them. Clark’s spirit would leave on, he could tell that just by looking around at those gathered in honour of him. That said, Barry wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving Central City unguarded at the moment, there was no doubt in the back of his mind that evil was stirring.

“We’ve just heard from Supergirl herself.” Iris continued as she turned back to the camera. “It’s nice to see Central City’s Scarlet Speedster is here in honour of Superman in the company of the other members of the Justice League. It must mean a lot to Supergirl to see such friendly faces ready to support her as Superman’s burden is passed onto her shoulders.” Clearing her throat, Iris choked back her own tears as she forced a smile for the camera. “As you can see the weather here is drizzling rain, what’s the weather looking like back in Central City, Greg?”

---

---

“…And you can expect it to keep warming up as a warm front moves in from the Gulf of Mexico. Now over to Linda as she takes us live to the newest additions to Central City’s Family. So tell us Linda, what’s going on over at the Zoo today?” Came Greg’s voice in Linda Lake’s earpiece as she turned to the camera.

“Well Greg, Central City Zoo is welcoming two very special additions today. Having just come from back from Africa, local philanthropist Simon Stagg has donated two gorillas he rescued from poachers during his latest excursion.” Turning to the aging man beside her, Linda continued as she introduced him. “Mr. Stagg, we’re happy you could join us here today, what can you tell us about these gorillas?”

“These two are Western Lowland Gorillas, the smaller gorilla is named Bright Eyes while the larger’s name is Solovar. I think they’ll be very happy here at the Central City Zoo.” Stagg said nervously into the microphone as Linda tilted it towards him. His hands shook slightly as his eyes rapidly scanned the gathered crowd. Taking the microphone back from the quivering man, Linda forced a large smile and turned back towards the camera.

“Well without further ado, let’s welcome Bright-Eyes and Solovar to Central City!” She yelled as the crowd exploded into applause.

As the heroes flocked to their funeral in Centennial Park, it was the villains who gathered in the shadow of Metropolis as a fanfare of freedom rung out. Superman was dead and in the process of being buried— a fact that made many criminals, both mundane and metahuman alike, feel an weight lifted from their shoulders. Sure, the Justice League still had individuals that operated in the City of Tomorrow but to lose The Man of Steel was a relief for criminals worldwide; one “world level” hero off the proverbial checklist. There was a lot of crowding throughout the slums and a lot of planning for activity as evening would soon begin to set upon the Delaware skies.

One such activity involved Nicole Diaz, the metahuman known as Jinx.

Several days ago, Jinx had come to the Suicide Slums when she was contacted about a job by Sherman Fine, one of the many criminal brokers in the United States; though he had done so through one of his many aliases to avoid things running back to him. Jinx was told she would be meeting with an associate of his who would give her all of the essential information for the operation that was to go down.

An operation she reflected on as she organized her team in an old abandoned warehouse.

---

The meeting was in an old run-down church within the “Suicide Slums”, Metropolis’ go-to criminal hotspot, and as far as she had figured it things were going pretty well for her. The year had been one she and her friends had wanted for so long— finally free of the shackles of HIVE. They were making their own decisions on their own terms. She imagined her friends she made in the Teen Titans wouldn’t have approved of her… decisions though.

“You sure you want to take the job?”

Her contract was nervous, she could tell that much as he shook in anxious worry— checking behind his back every three seconds as if Supergirl or Steel were going to come crashing through the wall and put the deal to rest. A legitimate worry, perhaps, but if it happened it happened as far as she thought. The aftermath of Doomsday was still present and whilst Superman had been loss in the process criminal activities hadn’t quite took in the opportunity that was in front of them yet.

But she supposed it was only a matter of time.

“It doesn’t really bother me. A job is a job.”

“Alright then… you have the information of the operation. Any questions?”

Jinx smirked, “Where do we make the drop off?”

“An unmarked warehouse in the harbor. I’ll mark it down for you.”

It was pretty much all set, they just had to make the heist work. But this wasn’t the first job they had ever taken despite it being one of the biggest risks they had went for. It would work— and with the “capes” as distracted as they were bound to be there was no way this wouldn’t be the best opportunity they had for a take like this. She could almost taste it.

“Don’t worry; I’m not scared of a bunch of capes.”

---

“Okay, so the facility is an unmarked ARGUS warehouse disguised as a community center that has been ‘closed for renovations’.” Jinx made clear to the group as she laid out the map across the table with each individual tactical notice marked down.

“Right around the corner from the Museum of Capes, too.” Gizmo’s grin widened as he nearly laughed in anticipation. “I love a challenge!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. We have to pull this off, we aren’t HIVE scrubs anymore operating against sidekicks. If we’re not careful we’ll attract attention from someone wearing a cape and it won’t be fun and we won’t get paid.”

“I do love getting paid!” Ambush Bug shouted as he leaned against a wall, casually looking at the map every now and then.

Jinx nodded. “So, we’re looking at a quick and quiet operation. Gizmo disables the security and gets us in. Mammoth and Terra deal with any security detail. Shimmer, and Myself get the package. Ambush Bug gets us all out.”

“Like clockwork.” Terra commented.

“That's the plan. It goes down in thirty minutes, let’s get ready.”

Blüdhaven Police Department, Blüdhaven

Dick had spent most of the night searching for Harvey Dent. He’d listened in on police scanners, beaten on drug dealers, and even tried following Vinnie using the tracker he’d slipped on him in case he knew more than he let on. Nothing. If Dent was in Blüdhaven then he was doing a good job of keeping his head down. At least for the time being. It had troubled Dick to think that Bruce’s rogue’s gallery might be spilling over into Blüdhaven but it made sense. Bruce had taken losing Clark hard, as one might have expected, and from what Dick had heard he’d poured all of his energy into tracking Doomsday. Maybe Dent was emboldened by that, maybe not, either way Dick intended to have Harvey behind bars as soon as he could.

For the time being he would help Gannon with that double murder he caught over on Waterloo Docks as best he could without incurring Amy Rohrbach’s wrath. Dick stalked the halls of Blüdhaven Police Department in search of Gannon before heading up to Homicide. The first face he saw when he entered belonged to Detective Rohrbach. She rolled her eyes, pushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear, and then shot Detective Gannon Malloy an incredulous look.

“What is he doing here?”

“Ignore her,” Malloy muttered as he leapt from his seat to greet Dick. “She woke up on the wrong side of the bed this month.”

Dick smiled at that and followed Gannon as he lead him towards the small kitchen area in the corner of the office. Malloy fired up the coffee machine, poured out a coffee for Dick, and handed it to him.

“Have you heard back from the lab?”

Malloy snorted at that. “The lab? It’s been one day, Dick. The only people worse at their jobs around here than those humps down in the crime lab are IA. It’ll be a fortnight before we get the results back from the lab, maybe more, and that’s if somebody down there don’t accidentally misplace a sample or something. Funny how often samples go missing around this place.”

That was an understatement. Blüdhaven Police Department was famously corrupt. They made the schmucks in Gotham look like saints.

“Yeah, well, lucky for you I think I might have something for you to go on.”

Malloy’s eyes widened and Dick took an elongated gulp of coffee to draw out the detective’s anticipation. After a few seconds of pensive gulping Gannon punched Grayson in the arm out of frustration and Dick smiled mischievously.

“The residue around the victim’s mouths was from a drug called “Schizo” that’s been making the rounds. Word has it that Two-Face has decided to expand out into Blüdhaven.”

“Two-Face? Fuck, I thought we had it bad enough between Blockbuster and the Lagorio Family but if Dent has come to Blüdhaven the department’s really going to have their work cut out for them. The man’s a maniac. He should be in Arkham.”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Last I heard he was in Arkham.”

Grayson walked over to the sink, poured out the last few droplets of coffee, and rinsed it out before setting it down on the side. He wiped his hands on a hand towel that rested on the side and then set the towel down again.

“The drug drives people insane if they take too much, Gannon, makes them hear things, hurt themselves, and hurt the people around them.”

Dick could see the gears grinding in Gannon’s brain as he tried to take Grayson’s statement to its logical conclusions. They might have been grinding very slowly but they were grinding all the same. Finally a satisfied look appeared on the detective’s face and he nodded knowingly.

“You think they ODed on this Schizo junk and started whaling on one another until they dropped dead?”

Dick shook his head. “That would make sense if not for the lack of defence wounds. There’s nothing. No skin beneath the nails, no scratches or bite marks. I think… I think they killed themselves.”

A figure appeared in the clearing of the kitchen area. It was Captain Frank Redhorn. The captain was notorious within the BPD for being a hard-ass and from what Dick had gleaned from Gannon’s tales it was a reputation well earned. He was a heavyset man with a body like a brick wall and an immaculate crew cut.

“Grayson.”

Gannon stepped forward to defend Dick for the second time in as many days. “I can explain, Captain, Dick’s just here to h-”

“Save your excuses, Malloy, I need a word with your wunderkid anyhow,” Redhorn sneered.


Redhorn’s office was adorned with pictures from his military service. Redhorn had been a Green Beret before he joined the Blüdhaven Police Department. Dick could have told you that much by the way he spoke. Grayson ran his fingers around the edges of his cap as Redhorn stared out of his window at the Blüdhaven skyline. After a few seconds he turned to face Dick and smiled at him.

“You’ve been making a lot of waves around here, Officer Grayson.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Suddenly Redhorn’s smile twisted into something more pernicious.

“Oh no, there’s no need to thank me, I don’t mean it by way of a compliment.”

“What?” Dick said with a frown. “I don’t understand.”

Redhorn let out an exasperated sigh and gestured towards the Division Room behind Dick. “How do you think it looks, Grayson, having some rookie that’s not even been on the job a year sticking his nose into my detective’s cases? Do you think that reflects well on this division? Do you think it reflects well on the ability of those detectives out there?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve just been trying to help, Captain Redhorn.”

A mocking laughed slipped out of Redhorn’s lips.

“You want to help? You either get your nose out of this division’s shit or you come help us out full-time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re a smart kid,” Redhorn muttered. The reluctance in his voice was almost tangible. “You know exactly what I’m saying.”

A broad smile appeared from Dick’s face and he stood up from his chair and offered his hand to Captain Redhorn. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Captain.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not go getting ahead of ourselves here. If you’re going to come work for me there are a few hoops that need to be jumped through first. You can’t go from working a beat to catching murder cases after a year on the job. You know that, kid. That’s not the way things work around here.”

Dick retracted his hand slowly as he anticipated the words that were about to leave Redhorn’s mouth.

“Look, I’ve got a mortgage, okay? I’m not the only one. We know you’re Wayne’s boy, Grayson, there’s not a soul in the department that doesn’t know you’re Wayne’s boy. I’m guessing it wouldn’t take you too long to maybe scratch together a little offering to help expedite the process a little.”

Redhorn was a crook. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it earlier in the captain. Maybe Dick hadn’t wanted to see it. All the talk of Redhorn being a hard-ass had made him want to believe he was one of the decent ones. The opposite was true. He was out to line his pockets. Even worse, he’d been able to fool Dick. If he could fool him, he could fool anyone, and that thought scared Grayson. He took a few steps back from the captain and shook his head in disapproval.

“That’s not what I’m about.”

A derisive snort left Redhorn’s nose. “What? You think anything in this department gets done without a few palms getting greased? It’s the way things are, kid, and it’s the way things have always been. It’s not like the movies around here. You gotta pay your way if you want something.”

The voice that left Dick’s lips was steelier the second time around. “Like I said, that’s not what I’m about.”

Redhorn threw his hands up in exasperation and then gestured towards the door of his office.

“There I was thinking you were cut out to do some real police work. I guess I must have been wrong. Get the hell out of my office, Grayson, and make sure I don’t see you skulking around these halls again.”

Jesse as she ran regretted some of her life decisions. The first was that she had let the lab team, the Flashers as they called themselves amid much laughter, dress her. Granted, they knew who Jesse's old alter ego was and her father's. They were also part of the team trying to solicit Central City's Flash to help them with their research. Still they were nothing but a bunch of nerds and Jesse had trusted them to make a good decision with clothing design. That was something she'd never do again.

Yet, there wasn't time to moan over the thigh high red boots. Nor the bathing suit-unitard-mask thing they convinced her to wear. It was very red. Except the gold lines that hugged her breasts. She was sixty damn it. She wasn't a hooker. She was Jesse Quick and the Flashers were going to regret this as much, or more, than she currently was. The only upside was, those lab rats knew how to design clothing for friction. It wasn't riding up. Nor did she loose her boots within moments of running off. In fact, the one thing she had lost was her pony tail, letting her blond hair fly free.

Jesse tapped her visor and the location of the train came back into the forefront.

"The velocity of the rear end of the train is slowing." One of the nerd back at Quickstart Enterprises spoke into her ear. Jesse was relearning how to listen to a comm while running at super speed. She still hadn't managed an intelligent reply without stopping. Else wise it was just completely garbled.

Within seconds of the message from Nerd Central, or the Jay Garrick lab, Jesse caught up with the detached caboose of the train. A quick glance inside showed her shaken, but alive passengers. One of those passengers spotted her and tried to catch her attention. With a mental sigh she stopped and poked her head in.

"Stay in the train. Authorities are on their way." Jesse then was off after the rest of the train. Old training apparently didn't take long to resurface. Civilians then super villains.

It didn't take long to see the front of the train. Jesse couldn't remember the specific word for it. Nerd Central might, but she was busy. And so was whomever was on the train. Smoke was billowing out of the train. Though as she caught up the smoke was dissipating. Whatever caused it must not be a fire. Small mercies. Last thing she needed was a blown up train.

Jesse easily grabbed the side of the train and pulled herself up onto the back. She pressed another button on her visor and a rough view of the interior of the train came into view. Jesse counted two people and one blurry blob. So three, maybe more? Jesse was never one of leaping before she looked. And since she couldn't hear anything over the wind and the noise of the train so she gently eased open the door and slipped in, hoping to remain undetected in her bright red and gold costume.

Aw Hell. Jesse's little voice of pessimism spoke up. I'm screwed.

The Triangle
11:32 PM

SCPD sergeant John Diggle sipped coffee from a styrofoam cup from inside his squad car. The coffee from Antonopoulos' Donuts wasn't exactly Starbucks, which was why Diggle always went there. The Greek diner was the greasiest of the greasy spoons in Star City and a bastion that stood firm against the wave of gentrification rushing through the city. The Triangle was a classic example. Back when Diggle was a rookie, this small section of Star City where 2nd Street merged into Winnick Avenue was a hellhole. Hookers, pimps, drug dealers and junkies all congregated here to sell their wares. It was an open-air flesh and drug market that the SCPD could never fully clean up. Now it was filled with organic grocery stores, shopping boutiques, and even a Starbucks. This was the domain of yuppies and hipsters now. In the end, it wasn't the SCPD but the influx of money coming into Star City that ran the scum out.

And that was supposed to be a good thing, right?

Diggle recognized his own conflicted feelings were silly. He had a scar on his chest that he got when a pimp stabbed him not three blocks away from here ten years back. The new crowd that ran around here were a lot of things, but they weren't stabbers. The city as a whole now was safer and Diggle liked it like that, but that safety seemed to take something out of the city as a whole. That was the cost of gentrification, he supposed. The scumbags added color to things. Now with artisanal cheese shops and tofu restaurants on every other corner, the color was gone. Neighborhood to neighborhood, street to street, it was all the same blandness.

"What's a guy like you doing in the Triangle at this time of night?"

Diggle heard the voice right after he heard the back of his squad car open. He'd left it unlocked for the meeting with his contact. He glanced into the mirror and saw the hooded and masked face of Green Arrow staring back at him. Their partnership stemmed from a situation five years ago when the masked archer took down a rogue flex squad that was extorting drug dealers throughout the city. Diggle gave him the intel on the men and their movements and he did the rest.

"Thinking of buying some skinny jeans," Diggle said with a chuckle. "Think I can pull 'em off?"

"From what I know about skinny jeans, the problems lies in putting them on and pulling them off."

Diggle sipped his coffee. "So that's why you wanted to meet? Work out your routine before you head out to the Catskills?"

"Now that you mention it," the vigilante said with a playful smile. "I've got a thirty minute bit on airline food."

"Right here," Diggle said, tapping the back of his neck. "Just put the arrow right there, please. Put me out of my misery."

"What's going on inside the PD?" Green Arrow asked after a soft laugh. "How are they taking the news that Thornguard is trying to take over their jobs?"

Diggle grunted after another sip of coffee. "Pretty well all things considering. Doesn't hurt that Thornguard is quietly putting out feelers to the FOP."

"Aren't you an FOP Union Rep, Diggle?"

"I am," Diggle nodded. "And the FOP is quietly negotiating with Thornguard lawyers about employing the majority of the SCPD as Thornguard officers if the police force gets privatized. You can bet they're talking with the firemen and paramedics as well."

"What kind of deal are they pushing for?"

"I don't know the finer points of the details," Diggle said with a shrug. "But it seems like at least 80% of the SCPD are going to be offered work as Thornguard contract workers. Most of the brass will be gone, as will the deadwood in the department, but you won't see anyone crying a river for them."

"And in exchange, the FOP puts pressure on the mayor and city council?"

"That's more implied than anything, but yep."

"Know the name of the lawyers in question?" Green Arrow asked.

Diggle searched through his pockets before he found what he was looking for in the breast pocket of his uniform. He passed the business card back through the mesh screen and into the masked man's hand.

"Senior reps passed these out to us in case we had any questions or comments for the lawyers."

"Thanks, Diggle."

Green Arrow opened the door and started to get out. Diggle turned around in his seat and looked at him through the dark.

"That's it? You don't want to know anything about any bad guys?"

"Oh," the archer said, waving the card at Diggle, "I got all I needed on the bad guys right here."

----

The Pacific Dining Car
7:51 AM

"How'd you find this out, Ollie?"

City Councilman Barry Calhoun looked at Oliver and then back at the card in his hands. Along with Councilwoman Diana Johnson-Ruiz, they were eating breakfast as part of their usual Tuesday morning routine. Oliver, Calhoun, and Johnson-Ruiz represented the liberal bloc of the Star City Council. They were currently vastly outnumbered 5-3 on any issue that came up. A few swing votes could go in their favor depending on the issue, but Jerry Conklin and his conservatives held the power when it came to passing city legislation.

"A friend of mine on the Star City PD," Ollie said between bites of steak and eggs. "This goes no further than the three of us at the moment, but he says this law firm is quietly working on a deal with SCPD. Save for high command and a few humps, they all become Thornguard personnel when the city council passes the deal."

"Paying them at their usual rate while billing the city twice as much as the SCPD would ever cost," said Diana. "Pardon my language, but it's bullshit."

"Either one of you know where we'd stand if the vote were held today?" Calhoun asked with a raised eyebrow.

"5-3 against us," said Ollie. "Maybe we could force a 4-4 tie if we get Lewis to come around and vote with us, but a tie does nothing but forces Mayor Fitzroy to cast the deciding vote and he'll come down against us. So that's 5-4 and a hardy welcome to Thornguard Security on the streets of Star City."

"I for one welcome out new corporate overlords," Johnson-Ruiz said with a wink towards Ollie. "How can we stall the bill from coming to a vote?"

"It's still in the public safety committee," Calhoun said as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm not chairman, but I am ranking member. As such, I can schedule as many witnesses as I wish to speak on the bill. There's three of us on that committee so it's going to make it out of there with a 2-1 vote, but I can at least buy us a few more days in committee before it goes to the full council for a vote."

"Then we go to work with the FOP," said Ollie. "Convince the union leadership that the deal is a bad one. Find some info on the cities and places Thornguard has taken over police service for and see how many of the original police force they retained and how much they were paid. Lawyers can say one thing, but facts are facts."

And while Oliver Queen works on the FOP, Ollie thought to himself, Green Arrow is going to figure out who exactly owns Thornguard and how they connect to all the other big trusts in Star City.

The riproar of the batwing passing through the skies of Metropolis was enough to set any villain on edge. Jinx certainly was not one to count her chickens, but in this case she was glad Gizmo was as good as he was when infiltrating complex security systems; otherwise Batman may have noticed that the ARGUS facility he had just passed in his batwing was also being robbed of its contents. Jinx had never dealt with Batman in her entire career but after having enough trouble with the first boy wonder she wasn’t too interested in finding out herself. The pink-haired girl took a sigh as she kept her position as Ambush Bug began to complain over their short range (and encrypted) communication line.

{“So on a scale of one to ten, how crazy is it that I want Batman to have noticed us?”}

{“Definitely a ten. Be glad he’s after whoever he is after, okay?”} Jinx responded over the frequency before groaning in discontent. {“Also, keep the line clear from now on, okay?”}

{“...fine. I mean, ‘affirmative’ or something.”}

That was Ambush Bug for you— the comic relief as they called him. But in reality, Ambush Bug wasn’t just valuable for his way of lightening the mood as a much needed morale boost, he was extremely gifted beyond his ability for teleportation. He was agile and had an affinity for outside-the-box thinking, letting few people be able to completely follow his combat patterns. Jinx remembered one such occasion with Deathstroke where it ended with a lot of exasperated groans and expletives. She smirked at the memory.

{“We’re in. I’ve disabled the first set of security systems, Jinx. We’re going to need to be faster than we anticipated though.”}

Jinx raised a brow as she swiped the hacked security card through the keycard slot of one of the side doors. {“What? Why?”}

{“Steelworks Security Systems are annoying to get around and they have a lot of failsafes.”}

Jinx sighed. Of course it would be Steelworks— they were in Metropolis after all. The town was divided between STAR Labs, LexCorp, and Steelworks Technologies; and none of them were easy to deal with. She would kill to be in a generic city stealing generic items from generic museums— but a job was a job.

{“Noted. Keep me updated.”}

Jinx motioned to her team to cover her blind spots as she entered the door slid open.

The next few minutes seemed to go like clockwork— Gizmo guided Jinx and the others through the facility without getting detected, though they knew it’d be only until they ran into an ARGUS defense team or unmanned mech. But by the time that would happen the entire camera system would be compromised and unable to be re-activated due to Jinx and Shimmer cutting it off at the source. Though as soon as they did that the alarms seemed to screech throughout the facility.

Exactly as Gizmo told them would happen— but triggering the alarm was better than being surprised by the alarm as far as the group figured.

A slight chuckle on Gizmo’s end of the comm was apparent. {“Well, now we have only like a few minutes until some cape that is on-duty to investigate. Before you destroyed the camera feed did you decipher the location and cross-reference it with our map?”}

{“Of course. Unless it's a speedster, we shouldn’t have a problem.”}

Jinx looked over to Mammoth and Terra. “This is the part where you smash and shake. Myself and Shimmer shouldn’t be too long.”

Mammoth grinned. “Don’t get sloppy, sis.”

“You do know who you are talking to, right?”

Jinx half-laughed, “C’mon.”

---

08:34 AM
Suicide Slums, Metropolis

---

“He misses you,” said Connor Hawke, his voice a little garbled through the speaker; the reception was terrible in her apartment. This was the first time Mia was speaking to him since she left Star City. It was good to hear his voice again. Where Oliver’s surged with confidence and panache, his was gentle, soothing; just what she needed this morning. Even in daylight, the Slums maintained their vice-like grip on her. She could feel despair and doubt closing in on her, even in these early hours, the notion that she wasn’t up for the task she’d given herself gnawing at her mind. She needed an escape into easier times. Who better to give her one than Connor?

“I know,” she said. She was lying on her bed amid a tangle of bedsheets, head resting on her pillow.

“He’s worried about you.”

She hesitated. It hurt to be reminded that she’d willingly left people that so obviously care about her. “He shouldn’t be.”

“You know my dad. You’re like a daughter to him.”

“Yeah. I guess I am. Tell Ollie I’m doing fine.”

“Are you?”

“…yeah. I’m getting there.”

“How’s the city?”

“Suffocating. It’s… it’s like all the hope Superman brought to it died with him. Connor, it’s horrible. I’ve only been here a week, but… I’m not sure there’s anything I can do. Not by myself.”

“Don’t say that. You can do this, Mia. You’re as much of a hero as me or my dad. You don’t need our help.”

“I ran into some guys last night. They were hurting this girl… then they laughed at me because I was ‘Green Arrow’s sidekick.’”

“…”

“…”

“How bad did you hurt them?”

“I broke their jaws.”

“That’s not that ba – ”

“And shot arrows at their feet.”

“Dad’s done worse – ”

“Connor, they were explosive arrows.”

“…What?”

“It was a small payload.”

“…”

“…”

“…I won’t tell dad.”

“Thank you.”

---

John King could see the whole of Southside from up here. The tallest building in the Slums, it looked over everything; the pubs, the nightclubs; the brothels and whorehouses; the crumbling homes, the abandoned warehouses; he could see everything and everyone, criminal and innocent, as they went about their lives, roaming these degraded streets without reason or purpose. This building was his castle, and he was its king – and soon, the Slums would be his kingdom.

He was sitting on a chair. A comfortable chair. Black, with leather upholstery, as cushioned as they come. He liked it. And, like the many things he liked, he’d fought for it tooth and nail. It was positioned behind a desk – mahogany – in a large room on the top floor of his castle, his view presented by a large, panoramic window.

“Sir?” asked his bodyguard, one of many, from the entrance to the room, cautious with fear. As he should be.

“What is it?” King intoned, not turning from the window.

“You, ah, you wanted updates on any cape activity in the Slums – ”

“Get on with it.”

“The, ah, the Green Arrow’s sidekick – the girl one – Speedy. She was spotted last night. Put three would-be muggers in hospital. She was, ah, seen doing similar things during the week beforehand. You want us to, ah, do anything about it, sir?”

King frowned. The Green Arrow’s sidekick? What was she doing in Metropolis? “No. Not yet,” he said. “I want to see what she’s capable of.”

His mission was a tough one. To mold the Slums into what he knew they could be, he would not tolerate any opposition. And if this ‘Speedy’ proved to be a problem… if she so much as took a whiff of his plans… then he would get rid of her.

Permanently.

“Hey Harper, the funeral is on!”

The sudden shout made Harper jump slightly from where she was perched in the bathroom, leaning forward on the sink in front of the mirror. Ignoring her brother, Harper continued to adjust her hair slightly, pushing the streaks of purple and blue back atop her head, mixing in a touch of gel as she did so. Confident with her look, she ran her hands down the back of her neck before giving a quickly smile to her reflection. Turning and grabbing one of her metallically armoured boots from the floor, Harper backed down onto the toilet seat.

It had been a rough few days. Although that was only natural for those who lived in Gotham. Particularly for the inhabitants of the Narrows. While the big man in blue’s death seemed to result in the rest of the country somewhat holding its breath, the war against life raged on in Gotham. Sure spirits seemed lower than usual, but that didn’t seem to put a stop to the villainy that roamed the streets. It had barely given Harper any time to relax during the holiday season; although it wasn’t like it was much of a holiday for them in the first place. She and Cullen barely made enough money each month to pay rent, yet alone buy presents for one another. Their tree was a homemade monstrosity creating using scraps Harper had come across during her patrols, the star taken from the destroyed neon sign of a strip club. One might think that their presents to each other were lackluster too. Harper’s gift to Cullen was an old Batarang she had scavenged from her first encounter with the Batman. Cullen’s gift was a shoddy necklace he had made in school. A necklaces of a bluebird. However despite how terrible these gifts may seem, they loved them. Harper hadn’t taken her’s off since Cullen had given it to her. She even wore it now as she left the bathroom in her crime fighting attire.

Harper slowly made her aware across the sparse room, approaching the tattered old sofa on which Cullen was sat. It took him several moments to draw his eyes away from the TV, with its cracked screens displaying Superman’s apparent cousin making some grand speech on a podium. Cullen’s smile lowered slightly when he spotted Harper’s costume.

“I.. I thought you were staying in tonight?” He asked, sounding slightly irritated. “I thought that you wanted to watch the funeral?”

“I’m sorry Cullen, but I’m pretty sure that every piece of scum in this city won’t be home watching this thing and someone needs to go kick their ass.” Harper lent in as she spoke, grabbing a handful of popcorn was Cullen’s bowl before using her other hand to ruffle his hair slightly. “Record it with the DVR, I’ll watch it with you!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

With that, Harper slid her mask onto her face and headed towards the fire escape, chowing down on the popcorn as she walked. With mind was filled on what excitement was to come, she opened the window and began to climb outside, glancing back towards Cullen and the TV as she did so. Catching site of something on the television, she paused. Giving the shot of Superman’s infamous ‘S’ a short salute, Harper set off into the night.

Metropolis
December 25, 2015
3 AM

Kara Zor-El had heard Krypto’s howls from the moment it happened. That’s the thing about dogs, they always know, even before people did. The old dog’s howls of sadness tore the bandage of shock off Kara’s wound, letting the emotion pour out as she made her way around a ruined downtown Metropolis, trying to find any survivor she could. It was the only thing she could hear as she floated through the city, overturning rubble to reveal choking people. Everything else was a dull, monotone ring, like after standing a bit too close to a firework going off. The civilians she saved cried and hugged her profusely, but she didn’t hear a word they said. She set them down one by one at the emergency triage centers and went for more, barely acknowledging their gratitude.

<Kara,> a soothing voice entered her mind, shaking her out of her malaise. She turned to find J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter, floating behind her. A gash across his right shoulder dripped with blood, and his left eye was swollen. J’onn had always been a calming presence to Kara, a fellow refugee on the planet. He knew what it meant to be the last of his kind. But tonight was different. There would be no calming the tempest of emotion flowing through her.<We have the situation taken care of. Go. You need to go.>

“Thanks, J’onn,” she replied flatly, choking back the tears. Zooming off towards the Arctic, she just wanted to be alone.

Kara landed at the Fortress of Solitude, hobbling on the leg the creature had injured earlier in the night. It was probably broken, but she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything really. Nothing but a void left by the only person who she had a real, true connection to in this world.

Krypto bounded through the snow out of the Fortress towards her. His head was held low, and he began licking Kara’s wounds when he reached her, whimpering slightly. She reached down and patted the dog on his head, “Good boy.”

The two of them entered the gigantic doors of the Fortress, which shut behind them with a thud. Kara hobbled towards the location’s command center, passing the other wings as she did. The intergalactic zoo, labs, and Krypton museum were eerily quiet, almost as if the robotic workers and specimens in each knew what had happened. This place was now hers, she guessed. Well, her’s and Konnor’s.

“Kara Zor-El,” the robotic voice of Kelex, the Fortress’s caretaker said as she entered the control room, “are the reports true.”

The metallic-sounding voice roused Kara from her stupor. She looked up at him and wiped a few lingering tears from her face. She adjusted the ripped skirt of her costume, realizing now that it was nearly ripped to shreds. Finally, she nodded, “Yes...Clark...Kal-El...he’s dead.”

As the words came out of her mouth, the lights in the control room went out, and a hologram emerged from Kelex’s eyes. There, standing before her was Kal, clad in his full Superman regalia, “Kara, if you’re seeing this, it means I’m gone. Neither of us ever wanted this, and both us hoped it would never come. But it has. You may think you’re unable to carry on. You may think you’re not ready. But you’re wrong. I’ve watched you grow into a powerful woman, and one of the greatest heroes on the planet. You can do this. You can carry on my work, and the legacy of Krypton. I believe in you, and if you believe in yourself the people will love you as much as they did me. Take care of Ma and Pa. Make sure you visit Krypto. Tell Lois...tell Lois I’m sorry. Help Konnor...you two are all we have left. And Kara...I love you. I know you’ll do great.”

The tears started again, surprising Kara. She didn’t think there was any left to cry. As the hologram faded, a portion of the crystal floor of the Fortress began to rotate before a cylinder emerged containing a new Kryptonian uniform for Kara. She strode over to it and ran her fingers over the crest on the chest, and marveled how the new one looked so much like Clark’s. She may never be him, but she could look like him, and she could do her damnedest to do as he did.

“Kelex,” she turned to the robot and began putting on the new suit.

“Yes, Supergirl?”

“Get me all of Clark’s files...I need to study up on who I’ll be dealing with.”



Metropolis
January 2, 2016

It didn’t take long for the criminals of Metropolis to try and take advantage of the destruction and absence of Superman. Like rats feeding on a carcass they emerged in the new year in order to get their piece, and Intergang had always been one of the biggest rats in the city. In the months leading up to Clark’s death, they had gained some fantastic, deadly technology. Kal hadn’t known where it came from, but it made them a much more ferocious foe.

Kara wasn’t surprised that they were the first to really start testing the waters of the new Metropolis, but she was a bit shocked they decided to hit the Federal Reserve right away. She had to give them credit, they were certainly ambitious.

She swooped down into the hole they had blasted into the side of the building, freezing the first two Intergang members she saw with her freeze breath before coming to a landing in the main vault. There, a man in a goofy looking mechanical suit. She laughed, “Man, and I thought villains wanted to look, oh, I dunno, threatening?”

The man spun around quickly, firing an energy beam at her as he did. It struck her in the chest, sending her flying back.

That was unexpected.

“Well, well, well,” he laughed. “The girl of steel makes believe she can fill in for Superman. Unfortunately for you, they’ll be burying another flying freak and Neutron is done with you.”

“Ugh...you’re talking in the third person? Great…” Kara groaned as she stood up and readied herself for the next attack. “Makes me want to put you down even harder!”

Quick breaths, the sensation of the muscles within his legs igniting, his body being pushed to it's limits as sweat seeped down his face. Each step sending shock-waves through his body, each step pushing him forward. Ducking under clotheslines and avoiding clutter on the surface, he pushed himself off of the building, somersaulting onto the pavement, rolling as he did. His grey baseball-T dirtied with mud, dust and blood, holes in the sleeves from the cuts of knives and a shred in the chest from a stray bullet. His boots were worn and his jeans were torn, the belt buckle he worn – the steel stained with blood and vile, showing to the trained eye that it had been used as a weapon.

Continuing his sprint, he ducked between stalls in the crowded street, people yelling, trying to sell their produce to anyone who would buy. The marketplace was buzzing with life, as the red-haired man dashed into an alley, certain that his pursuers were still chasing him. Panting, he leaned against the brick wall in the dark alley, it was quiet there, the acoustics of the buildings keeping the sounds of the marketplace away. Hearing footsteps, he held his breath. The other man crept up, moving slowly, two hands on his pistol, he was clearly trained in the army, or law enforcement, possibly both. As he came around the corner, he broke out of his hiding, lunging at the gunman, swinging his arm from underneath, hitting the man's wrists hard enough to knock the gun into the air. He hunched down, avoiding the swing coming for him, jamming his elbow into the man's thigh, using the momentum to strike upwards in a uppercut. The man staggered before he was met with a kick in his chest, colliding with his Kevlar, the kick had enough force to easily shatter his ribs, as he hit the ground, knocked out cold.

Catching the falling gun, still catching his breath, he secured it and put it on his back, under his belt. There were two more guys coming for him, scaling the building, he got up onto the rooftop to get a better vantage point. Sitting on the edge of the building, tearing his sleeves off to make into makeshift bandages for his bullet wound, and the one deep cut he got in his left arm. Tying the bandage around his chest, he looked around. No hostiles inbound, the highway was half a click to the north, if the thugs that chased him would call for backup, they would come on the highway.

”Take on the Hong Kong Triad yourself” Talia told me, what could go wrong, she said. Well, turns out there's enough gangsters in this town to take over a small African country. Come on Jason, you can do thi- His train of thought cut short, as the friends of the man he had taken out were now climbing up the fire escape. “I hate this country...” Jason cursed under his breath. Reading himself for a fight, three versus one, they had picked up a friend since he had last seen them.

Two of them charged him, both armed with butterfly knives. Jason grabbed the first man by the arm, using the momentum of the thug's swing against him, hunching down Jason threw the man over his shoulder, out over the side of the building and into the street below. Jason caught the second thug's hand, just as the knife was about to slice his face. The man punched the vigilante, whom caught the fist mid air, a struggle of strength ensued for but a moment, as Jason headbutted he man, kicked him in the right knee, forcing him to the ground, before sending his elbow into the back of his head, his limp body falling off the side of the building.

Jason grinned at the last thug – whom had seen his allies get decimated in but moments. He was certainly brave. Charging Jason, he leapt three feet into the air, aiming to bring his fist down onto Jason, whom stepped to the side, sending the man off the edge of the building. It would have, if the man with the red hair hadn't grabbed him by the collar. “Hold on.”

***

Having interrogated the man, Jason found himself on the streets with the information he wanted. The Triad's warehouse. He had the address, this would be a major blow to the criminal underworld of Hong Kong. But first, he had to get armed. Calling in a supply drop from the League was out of the question, so he would have to improvise. Walking to the market, he browsed the various shops and stands, he came to a clothing store carrying male clothes. Looking, he asked for the most sold shirt the vendor had, and the vendor pointed to a white and black baseball-Tee, almost like the one he already wore. Jason grinned as he got out what money he had. His grin turned sour when the vendor turned the shirt around, showing off the chest.

Getting a leather jacket, a red beanie and a pair of cheap shades as well as the shirt, Jason was set. He moved into a changing room in the next store over, where he put on the new shirt, turning his old one completely into bandages, leaving only dirty scraps of the cloth behind. Brandishing the shirt with the insignia of his home - the bat, in red, the jacket and the headgear, the Gothamite stole a pair of black driving gloves in passing of the same clothes shop. Now, let's see how Hong Kong's finest stack up.. the young man thought to himself, tightening the gloves on his hands, moving towards the motorcycle he previously had stolen..