And Justice For All.
Space, the final frontier. This endless expanse, dotted with a million million suns has fascinated humanity since the first individuals looked up in awe and wonder. The greatest minds of a thousand generation counted and charted it, debated it's significance while others could only marvel at the boundless majesty the gods laid out before them. For some, the first, tentative steps into the darkness became humanity's greatest triumph.
For the average member of the Justice League, it's also part of the daily commute. Familiarity can blunt the edge of even the greatest wonders, til they ring mundane. Say what you will about teleporters, they leave no time to enjoy the voyage.
Among those who knew where the Justice League kept their headquarters, there had been fierce debate as to the meaning of settling themselves in orbit. Were they, quite literally, setting themselves above humanity as gods in their new Olympus? Was it to watch everyone, to have a place to themselves outside any government's control or oversight? A citadel proof against any earthly assault? Or merely a sign of their commitment to favoring no one nation? Were they militarizing space?
So many speculations, so weighted towards dark suspicion. The simple truth was, they needed a more secure base after the Joker compromised the Secret Sanctuary, and their teleporter technology, which did wonders for response times, worked much better going to and from the station than moving through a larger volume of atmosphere. This was all.
"So is this for real? We're just going to abandon a whole city to supervillains?" said an incredulous Flash.
"Seems like." Green Lantern didn't look any happier at the idea. "How did this even happen?"
"The city elected a known supervillain as mayor." Red Tornado's voice was matter-of-fact. "Then a major earthquake destroyed much of the city, freeing those imprisoned in Arkham. The government made a utilitarian values judgement that it was more important to contain the villains than aid the city."
"Yeah, that can't be a coincidence. Are we going to nail him for it?" The speedster looked eager.
"For what? As far as we can tell, he didn't cause the quake. We don't have any evidence that a crime took place, much less that he did it, and believe me, if we arrest a politician, even just the mayor of a major city, we'd better have an airtight case."
"So we build one! We've got plenty of cause for an investigation. J'onn can do a quick scan and point us to the evidence, I can have it back here inside of a minute."
"I have already attempted this. His mind is shielded against casual probes, so I would need to come close for a deep-scan, which he would doubtlessly notice. His followers are less well defended, even the telepath. None appear to believe him responsible, but it is possible he simply hasn't confided in them."
"Fine then, we'll see if I can't do better. Ring, scan the faultline through Gotham for signs of tampering." The man's ring shone green for a long moment. "... I have nothing to suggest it was artificial, the reverse actually. The ring has built a forensic history model that looks a lot like normal tectonic activity. Okay, it's a long shot, but I'm scanning his computer systems and... I've got nothing."
"Well, it's not like he was going to play it so close to the chest and then just leave a file with his evil plans lying around on his desktop."
"I could wish more supervillains would do that."
Aquaman spoke up.
"Something happened that night. Something strange and powerful in the vicinity of that city. I'm still trying to understand exactly what."
"Well why don't you work on that? More information might give us a better idea of how he did it."
Superman leaned forward.
"While I find it difficult to believe he isn't involved, not when he so obviously and directly benefits, for the time being we may have to accept that we can't prove it. Our biggest priority now is the people of Gotham, how can we lessen the impact on them?"
"Officially, not much of anything without repercussions. The White House was in touch earlier, and Gotham is strictly off-limits, without risking our charter to operate on American soil."
"Right, shall we have a spot vote on obeying those pointless orders versus helping in secret?" Flash asked. "Come on, show of hands for helping out?"
The vote was very nearly unanimous, with only Red Tornado abstaining.
"Alright then. What are we going to do? I can run supplies past any blockade. They won't even see me."
"That may not be our best option." Hawkwoman spoke up. "Very often, when the social order breaks down, warlords emerge. Any supplies we just insert without local contacts and infrastructure will just be seized by one of them and used to bolster their position. I've seen it before," she nodded, "If we aren't careful we could end up propping up Bookworm's regime."
Green Lantern leaned in.
"That's a point. We need more intelligence on the ground. Who even knows what Bookworm is planning?"
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NML Day 16
In the evening, the lights came on in Gotham. Not all of them, even Mr. Herrera and his miracle workers couldn't wire up the whole city, but in Old Gotham and the closest parts of Eastend and Burnley.
He also had to rig up an interface for the unusual power source. I was particularly proud of that bit.
Many such exist in fiction, though their precise limitations are very vague. I went for the firmness of a hard number. In the Iron Man film novelization, the original miniature Arc Reactor (the one built IN A CAVE!! WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS!!!) was a miniature fusion reactor with a 3 gigawatt output. This is far more than enough to power a large corner of the city, though it admittedly raises some other issues, narratively.
For starters, in the story Stane derides the original Arc Reactor as a publicity stunt to pacify environmentalists with no real potential. Considering it can sit in a warehouse, or in Tony's chest, or how Tony can crush one in his hand later without a lot of pyrotechnics, I'm pretty sure that's room temperature fusion, otherwise known as cold fusion. If you, as a major industrialist, can't think of a way to market cold fusion, you fail business forever. Second, how is it that a 3 gigawatt fusion plant can only power Tony's suit for about fifteen minutes at the end? Nothing he did was all that energetic. What does the suit's normal power consumption look like? Why did Tony ever need to upgrade, or tinker to make Arc tech viable, when the first unit in his chest provided enough power each second to power New York City for a month?
I suppose it's not important. What is it that we are rolling in zoobs for the moment. This makes a lot of things easier, not least negotiating with Victor Fries for power so I can reclaim the inventory space.
We even rigged up a spotlight with a metal bat-shape over it. I was against it, of course. We all pitched in and worked hard on this triumph, just to sign the Bat's name on it? We endure and start to thrive, but some people still just want to call for help and let the big superhero make it all better.
Well, enough people were invested enough in it I knew better than to give a flat no. Never give an order you know people won't obey.
So we got ourselves a Bat-Signal. That's fine. Great, even. Like it or not (I don't) Batman is uniquely Gotham. If he's somehow not the first thing you think of when you hear the word "Gotham" he's definitely in the top three.
So, powerless to change this event, I choose to frame it in a completely different light. Not a cry for help at all, but the defiant planting of our flag.
Gotham Stands, motherfuckers. You, in the helicopters, go home and tell your superiors that we're still here! We haven't descended into savagery, and we're not going away! Y'all are going to have to deal with us and what you did to us. So suck it!
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"One trembles to think what he must be putting those poor people through."
"Hey, if we're putting together a plan for Gotham, shouldn't big, dark and spooky be here? He's never been shy about telling us not to horn in on his turf before."
Superman and Wonder Woman traded significant looks. He spoke first.
"Batman is... unavailable right now. We're probably not going to do anything without his approval, but I'd like to at least be able to say we have a good plan."
The Princess of Themiscyra stood up.
"Which reminds me of a pressing errand. Do go on." She walked over to the teleporter, threw a last look over her should and muttered something that sounded a lot like 'men.' before stepping up on the platform and vanishing.
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clang! clang! clang!
A stick rapped off the bars as a guard approached the cell. Inside was a disheveled, muscular man with dark hair. Despite certain superficial similarities, no one could ever mistake this man for Bruce Wayne. Not just because he was filthy, unshaven and dressed in the remains of clothes much too shabby for the billionaire, everything from the way he moves to the look in his eyes speaks to the history of a blue-collar bruiser with a lifetime of experience winding up in the drunk tank after a Friday night brawl.
"Up and at 'em, senor. You just made bail."
The man in the cell groaned as he rolled to put his feet under him and painfully levered up to a sitting position. Meanwhile the guard unlocks the cell.
"Now, you're gonna be good for the nice lady, no? She brought your freedom after all."
"... I'll behave."
"Good! Let me get the door." He unlocks it. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay, and don't let us catch you fighting again."
The guard leads the man to the office section of the jail, where a woman in an expensive suit waits.
"And there he is! Thank you so much for your help, officers."
"Any time, Ma'am." The uniformed man behind the desk tries and fails not to stare at her as she smiles again, and leads the shabby man out.
"Really, Bruce?" she rounds on him as soon as they've walked a discreet distance away. "Is this what you've come to? Simple fights with thugs?" She stops a moment. "Not that it's a bad thing, no evil is too small, but as long as I've known you, you've always planned. Calculated. Achieved maximum results for minimal risks. Just going out and starting fights with the first pimp you see, no scouting, no gear, reeks of masochism. So does your performance in that battle."
She gripped his bruised arm, hard. He didn't flinch or wince.
"Just... talk to me Bruce. You've been there for me so many times, let me do this for you."
He shrugs her hand away.
"What's there to talk about? My city is gone, ruined and forsaken. I failed when she needed me the most, before the entire world. What would you do, if it were Themiscrya?"
"Well, Themiscrya is a lot more self-sufficient than cities in Man's World, nor would loss of trade or international recognition hurt us as much. But that's a dodge. We've had earthquakes there, twice. I'd probably be with my sisters, rebuilding."
"And if all your enemies were unleashed, wrecking havoc?"
"Then they'd really need me, wouldn't they? Don't you dare suggest to me that you're scared."
His shoulders slump.
"Not scared. Beaten. It's too much, too big. I've looked at the estimates for rebuilding Gotham, spoken to dozens of Congressmen about No Man's Land., crunched the numbers a hundred different ways. With discrete League intervention, without. There's no way forward, no path to reversing this, no... no hope for Gotham." He heaves a deep breath and his face suddenly settles into an absolutely controlled mask, only then would anyone notice that he had lost any composure at all. "Ever since I was a child, I've trained and fought, for that city. I've learned every alley and rooftop, saved it more times than I can count and then one day this thing just happens and it's... gone. Lost forever. Tell me honestly, Diana, can you imagine what that's like?"
"... Even if it were hopeless, wouldn't make it not worth doing. But I don't think it is. You still have friends who are willing to fight with you. It was impossible to defeat the Appellaxians, until you found their weakness, perhaps if you try you'll find a way. Besides, it would be a shame for a city's champion to give up before his people. Look." She pulls out a photograph. "This was taken the night before last. The people of Gotham are still fighting, and clearly they want your help. Or is that not your mark on the clouds?"
"It is."
"There are still people in there, acting in an organized manner. Possibly even under that new mayor of theirs."
"But that's terrible! Bookworm will self-destruct sooner or later, it's in his nature. Only this time.. the whole city, if they rest all their hopes and dreams on him... he'll drag them down with him!"
"I never did understand why you and Superman are so harsh to the man. I found him an honorable warrior when we met. But supposing that's true... doesn't that suggest, even more, that they need you?"
"I- yes." His fist clenches, his spine straightens, and once again he is the Batman dressed as a bum. "They do." He starts to walk off.
"Bruce! You don't have to do this alone."
"I think... I do. But thank you Diana, for everything." He walks away faster, pulling out a cheap phone and dialing. "Alfred? I need your help and some of those old contacts of yours. No, I'm not in trouble. We're going home."