Justice Lords Limitless Act 2: EndWar

Batman found himself knocked on his back. He quickly rolled to the side just before a heavy boot stomped down on the ground where his chest had been mere moments before. He used his hands to spring himself back onto his feet. Just as he landed, he shot his left leg up, catching his attacker in the shoulder and knocking her back. Not wanting to give her a chance to recover, Batman jumped forward leading with his knee for her chin.

His opponent read his intention and put up her hands in defense. She caught Batman's knee and, in one explosive motion, she pushed her hands up and out, absorbing much of the hit and redirecting the Dark Knight to the side. Batman went with the new momentum, arching back thus turning the fall into a controlled backflip. Once back on his feet, he reset his position and checked his assailant. She was already ready and sizing him up. Both of them were in a fighting position: he was in a brutal Krav Maga stance and she was in a more basic Subyuk stance with palms open.

Batman broke the silence and dropped his stance. Sparring was over. "You're doing well, Batgirl. You're learning quickly."

"Only because I have a great teacher," she replied. She walked over to a bench and removed her helmet to take a breather. She was still getting used to the uniform – her uniform. Batman had forbidden her from using the word 'costume' to describe the outfit. It was her uniform and they were at war. Calling it a 'costume' removes the value this symbol stands for, she recalled him explaining during one of their first sessions. If it is a costume, you are simply an actor. Eventually, it should become a second skin. "Are we going out on the town tonight? The breezes are cool and the weather is warm. Perfect patrol weather."

Batman didn't respond. He walked over to the Batcomputer and started scanning the police waves as he refreshed himself on the newer inmates at Arkham Asylum. The Asylum once again housed crazies, but none of them compared to what he used to face. Riddler, Joker, Scarecrow... It was strange to never have to worry about them again. Yet, he thought, there is something wrong with this city. The crazies always come back in one form or another. As he reviewed various case files, a soft beeping echoed from the Batcomputer.

His blood ran cold as he recognized the old code. He had several unique tones set for unique calls, and this specific pattern had been put in place during the Justice Lords' reign. It was the ping sequence used by Gotham military police, a direct line from them to Batman should the need arise for his assistance or attention. It was the sequence that had alerted him to the alternate Justice League's scuffle at Arkham Asylum when they were searching for their Shayera. He'd answered that call after coming to an understanding with his Other. It was a sequence that he had not heard since, and considering the Gotham military police was dismantled immediately after the Justice Lords fell, it was a tone he did not think he'd ever hear again. Unless...

He answered the ping with his cowl. "Jim."

"Batman!" came the frantic voice. It was indeed James Gordon, the former Chief of Police and now the head warden of Blackgate Penitentiary. "It's your old pal, Green Lantern. He's free and, well, he isn't so 'green' anymore."

Batman grimaced. "Understood."

"We are not sure where he has gone, but we searched his cell. Guards found a book in his cell, War and Peace, but it's been hollowed out to allow contraband. We've got it in evidence for forensics to do their job. If we're lucky they'll learn something about where Stewart went or what his plan is, but don't hold your breath. It seems to me that it was only used to smuggle a small object, likely his signature weapon."

Batman remained quiet as he checked the video feed from a peculiar vault within the BatCave. The live feed loaded and he released a held breath. Stewart's old ring was still there, dormant and glowing only faintly. More than likely John had received a new ring in that book, and not one from the Guardians. He was vaguely aware that there were other lantern corps such as the yellow that Sinestro founded and a red corp as well that was powered by wrathful emotions. He wondered what possessed John to forego his loyalty to the green and accept a gift from a different corps.

"Batman?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Are you alright?" Jim voiced concern.

"Yes."

Click. Batman hung up before any further questions could be posed and headed for the Armory.

"What was that about?" Kimber ran up to him, eager.

"Work."

"Who is it this time? Did Mr. Death escape? A crime boss making a move? Mafia in town? What?"

"An old friend," Batman replied. "John Stewart is loose."

"Oh, really?" Kimber wasn't put off. "Well, you have his ring, so what danger could he be?"

"He is an ex-Marine," Batman pointed out, his voice still level. "That should be danger enough. But it sounds like he has a new ring." He started loading his utility belt with the basic items: bat-a-rangs, bat-claw, smoke grenades, gas pellets, and the like.

Kimber followed suit in loading her own utility belt with the gadgets Batman allowed her to use. She remembered when she first saw the Armory, it was overwhelming. Suits lined one wall and gadgets lined the other. And that was just the first level. The Armory was three condensed levels of tools, suits, and weapons to aid Batman's crusade. When she asked how much of it she could use, he pointed to a well-worn metal crate in a corner that held retired but still functional items. That had been five months ago. Now here she was loading into her utility belt the same items Batman was loading into his. "You have anything special for him? Yellow powder or something?"

"We won't need it."

"Why?"

"I have his ring, remember? That means this new ring likely isn't from the Green Lantern Corps."

"How do you know?"

"Would an intergalactic police force break one of their own out of a planetary jail by just giving him another ring in secret? Or would they make a loud racket with other Green Lanterns enforcing his release?"

This made sense to Kimber. "So when we find him, what are we going to do? He has a different but probably similar power ring potentially limited by his imagination with a weakness we don't know. We have gadgets limited by quantity."

"We aren't going to fight him, not yet." Batman attached his belt and then stalked off to the Batmobile.

Kimber pulled on her helmet and walked to her motorcycle. "Then where are we going, boss?"

"To pay a visit to another old friend."

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The Batmobile and the Bat-Cycle parked in a wooded area across from the peninsula that supported Arkham Asylum. The duo walked the rest of the way to the strange place. There was a time when Batman would have parked out front and walked through the double doors. There was even a time when he would be driven there by military personnel. But he was re-establishing his persona as a creature of the night. Stepping into the light was one of the worst things he'd done with the Justice Lords.

"This way." He still had the layout of the asylum memorized. He knew every cell and most occupants. He grappled up to a third-floor office window, followed closely by Batgirl, and pried the pane open. From the deserted office, he led Batgirl down the dark hallway and into a ventilation shaft. Finally, Batman removed a terminating vent and led his partner into another hallway.

"Why do we have to go the long way?" muttered Batgirl.

Batman ignored her complaint. After all, she would learn soon enough just how important stealth was. She would either learn or die. "We're here," he whispered to Batgirl. Taking his cryptographic sequencer from his belt, he easily cracked the code for the cell they were crouched by. "Split-think," he instructed.

Instantly she started thinking about puppies, kittens, and other cute animals; but underneath that veil of stereotypical teenage girl idle musings, her thoughts were a swarm of questions about who, or what, they were going to see.

"J'onn," Batman addressed to the darkness within the cell.

"Batman." A deep, elegant voice floated back, its timbre matching Batman's. A green-skinned humanoid with a pointed head and chin stepped into the light. His four red eyes which were once fierce and piercing were now dull and glazed. "I never thought I would see you again."

"I have questions."

"I would suppose," J'onn replied. "I was wondering when you were going to visit. If ever."

"John Stewart escaped Blackgate. He apparently has a new power ring. Know anything?" Batman leaned in.

We're being threatening now? Alright. Batgirl crossed her arms and lowered her chin in an effort to look down on the mountainous Martian before her.

"I am sorry, Batman, but I do not," J'onn replied, a little put off by the threatening disposition of his former comrade. "I do wish I could be of more help to you, but I haven't had contact with any of our former compatriots since my incarceration. You should know that. I'm sure you track my visitors."

Zero. That's how many people had visited the Martian Manhunter since his incarceration. Batman had doublechecked the records on the ride over but had still hoped that somehow something or someone had slipped through the cracks. It seemed the Asylum hadn't yet fallen to corruption. A minor victory. Satisfied for the moment with this confirmation, Batman turned to leave. "Stay alert, J'onn. If he tries to contact you, let me know. I'll be watching."

"Undoubtedly." J'onn evenly backpedaled, retreating into the darkness of his cell and Batman used his cryptographic sequencer to close and lock J'onn's cell door.

Once they were back on the outside and nearing their vehicles, Batgirl spoke up. "He seemed like a nice fellow. He didn't even seem the least bit interested in escaping when the door opened."

Batman only nodded. Like Diana, J'onn eventually showed remorse for his actions against his foster home world. Unlike Diana, however, J'onn felt he did not deserve a second chance. He requested to be locked up in the asylum where he could be sure the world would be safe from him. The beam had rendered him powerless... Or at least as powerless as a Martian could be. Super strength, limited mental capabilities? J'onn still had them. Every Martian was born with them, so using a weapon to strip powers from a being naturally born with powers was rather redundant. His natural Martian heritage could not be destroyed. Even so, he was no more dangerous than he had been all those years ago when the Imperium had launched their attack. A quarter for a book of matches would be all he'd need to keep the alien in line.

"So where are we going now?" Batgirl asked, her voice now coming from over the radio.

Batman realized he was driving to Gotham from the Asylum. Everything had been on autopilot as he'd thought about J'onn. "Rooftops," he growled back.

"Right-o."

He watched in the rearview camera as the Bat-Cycle diverted from the Batmobile's path down an avenue. He'd instructed her never to start patrol from the same neighborhood. Instead, their patrol would start from two different areas and they would regroup at pre-designated points. It was a strategic move that spread them out over the city much earlier, cutting their patrol time by one and a half hours on average.

The Batmobile pulled off the main road and rumbled before an abandoned service garage. As he killed the lights on the supercar, Batman couldn't help but feel a familiar sense of anticipation. Each night out in the city's grime felt refreshingly reminiscent of his early years in crimefighting. Before the metahumans, before the League, and before the Lords. A time when it was just him and his city against all odds. He exited Batmobile and was atop the building in mere minutes taking in the familiar sounds and lights of Gotham at night. The sins of his past weighed on him. But as he stood atop the building, his cape billowing in the cool night breeze, he couldn't deny the feeling of renewal. The girl had been right: it was perfect patrol weather. It was time to go to work.

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Batgirl deployed the kickstand of her new bike. Teaming up with Batman was an amazing thing. The toys, the tools, the vehicles, were nearly all at her disposal as long as she continued to fight the unending battle against crime. The first thing she had received was a new suit. It was modeled after her homemade one, helmet and all. But the functionality and the protective capability were more than she could have imagined. For example, the majority of the suit was bulletproof, not just select segments. That was a fact she took great solace in.

The second tool she'd received was a new bike. She'd earned her motorcycle license early in the year and soon after that Batman had scheduled nights for her to practice offensive and defensive driving on the BatCave's simulator. At the time, she'd been upset that he was leaving her behind, sometimes multiple nights in a row; but looking back, it was for the best. Now she was cleared to use the rocket-powered Bat-Cycle to her heart's content. She hadn't yet used all of its special features, like the afterburner boost or the autocannon housed above the wheel well, but she was aching to try them out – especially the cannon. However, the Bat told her that the high-caliber gun was only to be used as a last resort.

She grappled to the roof and, once on the top, dashed to the edge. Three months ago she would have been afraid to jump. Three months ago she would have had to make three or four false starts before trusting not only her suit but herself. Now, she finally had the confidence to leap. When her toe reached the edge, she jumped. For the briefest of moments, she felt gravity take full control of her body. She allowed the weak force to control her for a mere moment before she activated the thick, rounded shoulder pads that overlapped her cape. An electric current shot through her cape and the utility fabric stiffened. She lurched up as a draft caught under her cape and she easily glided across the chasm of the street and landed on the next roof.

"Batgirl." Batman's gruff voice echoed in her helmet. "10-851 in-progress. Heading southbound on Bavis Street." He followed up with a brief description of a sedan.

10-851. That's... auto theft. Batgirl recalled the many hours she spent memorizing every police code. She'd already known the major ones thanks to her father, he would recite them to her when she was younger to help her fall asleep, but she now knew them all. She checked the street sign below her. Bavis Street was two blocks over. "I'm on my way." She ran towards the next building and jumped. While airborne, she unholstered her bat-claw and fired at the next building. The claw dug into the brick securely and the bat-claw's reel slingshotted her over the building to the next. At the apex of her arc, she activated her cape's glide function again and soared to the center of the next building. Once she touched down on the roof, she looked over Bavis Street. To her right, the stolen vehicle was speeding her way.

"I'm busy," Batman said. "Don't wait up."

She didn't need to be told twice. Batman may have been the heavy hitter, but she could stop a speeding car, right? After all, it was simply a matter of vectors and basic math. Great... I hate math. She groaned in anticipation as she watched the car approach. She tried to calculate the perfect intercept point in her head but got frustrated and ended up just trusting her gut and guesstimating. She jumped from her hidden perch and slammed into the trunk of the car, the reinforced joints of her suit absorbing the majority of the impact and inertia. Her timing had been off and if she'd waited a second longer, she would have missed entirely.

"Whaa–?" The carjacker glanced in his rearview mirror to see what had shaken his stolen ride. He thought perhaps some dolt had rear-ended him but when he saw nothing out the back window, he turned his attention to the road. Much to his shock, a horned phantom lady was crouching on the hood of his car, snarling in his face. With a scream, the man wildly jerked the wheel left and right in a desperate attempt to shake the heroine from the hood. However, he only succeeded in losing control of the car and crashing through a newspaper kiosk in front of a closed department store. The man didn't even have time to recover from the accident before he was harshly yanked out of the driver's seat by two slender but surprisingly strong arms.

Batgirl pinned her prey against the car and slammed her armored forehead into his – a move she was quickly growing to love – and then bound his hands with flexi-cuffs. When she let the bound thug go and looked back at the scene, she winced. The damage to the car was noticeable and Batman was already there inspecting the fender as well as the wreckage of the stand. He glared at her and she felt herself whither. "It will buff out, right?" she asked, hopeful.

Batman nodded his head once. "But it could have been avoided." He pressed a trigger on his belt to alert the authorities to the location of the crashed auto. "Finish binding him and move on." He zipped up to the top of the department store roof, followed soon after by his young protégé.

Diana looked out her window drapes. Yes, the man was still staring at her house, more specifically; at her. Diana knew he knew who she was. Even though she had been moved to a part of Gotham that promised to be more quiet, her past still haunted her. Even with the assumed name of 'Rebecca Sanders', somehow someone in the neighborhood discovered that she was really Diana of Themyscira, the former Lord Wonder Woman. After all, a simple change of name would never be enough to cover up her uniquely Amazonian stature and facial features.

"It will be okay, Diana," she reassured herself as she drew the drapes closed. "You may no longer have your Amazon strength," she thought aloud while casually examining a knife on a corner table. "But you still have your training."

It was times like these when she wished that the rehabilitation facility and Bruce Wayne were still required to do their regular visits. Bruce Wayne. She never would have expected that the pretty-boy face of Wayne Enterprises would become one of the only people she could rely on, but these were unusual times. He may have had a less-than-reputable reputation with women, but every interaction with him felt heartfelt and genuine. He really did want to help. She believed that there was more to him than the tabloids would have readers believe.

Sure, Bruce had on-again-off-again relationships with numerous women; most recently, the reformed Harleen Quinzel, much to Diana's chagrin. But that had ended as quickly as it began, in a comical fashion after he stood her up last December. Diana laughed to herself as she remembered the tantrum the blonde woman threw when Bruce walked into the correctional facility the day after they were supposed to have dinner together that winter weekend. The rare moment of levity gave way to a slight tickle of a fantasy: what if his interest in her was more than just professional?

Then again, would he even want me in his life? She snuck another peek outside into the dark and saw another neighbor had driven a sign on his lawn. The sign had a picture of her from a past life wearing her tiara. A red 'x' was neatly painted over her face. No... he probably wouldn't.

The man with the knife came at him again. Batman easily swatted the man aside with the back of his gauntleted fist and turned his attention to the other man with the revolver. With the quick toss of a bat-a-rang, the gun was knocked from the man's hand and a second later Batman was upon him.

Through all this, Batgirl was fighting off two more would-be muggers. She had temporarily knocked one down but the other was advancing quickly with a rusty pipe. Batgirl flicked her wrist and three discs were fired from her gauntlet. The blades slit the advancing man's arm and hand as they whizzed by. With a yelp, the man stumbled back in a mixture of shock and pain; it was all the opening Batgirl needed to slam her boot into his chest.

Just as she landed, the other thug rammed his shoulder into her side. Before the thug could attack again, Batman gave him a taste of his own medicine. As soon as Batman slammed his armored shoulder into the thug's back, Batgirl vaulted over Batman's shoulder and delivered a flying kick to the man's cheek. He fell, unconscious just as the first man she had kicked was staggering to his feet.

Rejected. Batgirl rolled towards him and popped up, delivering a solid uppercut to his jaw.

Batman finished his own opponent with a palm strike to the chin and then an open-hand jab to the eyes and brow. In pain, the man crumpled, holding his stinging face. Batman brought his boot down on the man's head, knocking him out.

"That wasn't so bad," Batgirl piped up once the last man was down. She adjusted her gauntlet.

"One minute, twenty seconds," was Batman's reply. He had been working with her on getting their take-down times lowered. In the past months, their fastest had been ten lightly armed gang members in five minutes. But one minute twenty seconds for four guys while having to worry about their victim was pretty good. They were getting much better at reading each other's movements.

"We can do better," she said as she grappled to the top of a nearby building.

"We will do better," Batman corrected her. Once he was on the roof, he looked to the distant Clocktower. "It's getting late."

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Curtis awoke to a rap-tap-tapping at his window. Groggy but wary that he lived in Gotham, he slid out of bed, picked up a broomstick, and then cracked the window. "Who's there?"

"It's me. Mawk," the darkness replied.

Curtis sighed, wiping his face with his free hand and dropping the broom. "What is it, dude?" he asked. "It's like three-forty or something."

"I needed to talk to someone. Let me in, nuh?"

"And you couldn't just text?" Curtis grumbled as he opened the window, letting his newest friend in. He was in the middle of a yawn when a chilled breeze swept in as Mawk clambered through the open window and into Curtis' room. It must have been important for Mawk to leg it to Curtis' side of town in the dead of night for a chat. Curtis knew that Mawk had friends who lived closer – friends that Mawk had known longer – so whatever topic was bouncing around in Mawk's head must have been important. And Curtis had a feeling he knew just what that topic was.

Under normal circumstances, Mawk and Curtis would not have been friends. Throughout high school, they never ran in the same social circles and had a confrontational relationship at best. A few times they'd even clashed, Mawk being the aggressor and Curtis on the receiving end. But there is something about surviving an encounter with a murdering psychopath that draws people together. Now, despite their differences, a unique bond had forged between them. It was a connection born of shared trauma. Even still, for the former football star to seek out Curtis in the middle of the night was something special.

Curtis rubbed sleep from his eyes and cleared his throat. "What's up?"

Mawk plopped down on the floor, wide awake and deep in thought. "I was running through scenario after scenario in my mind, and I think I have an idea as to when I could have acted."

Curtis rolled his eyes before replying. "What are you talking about?" He was pretty sure now he knew what subject had forced Mawk out of his home, but in the hope that he was wrong, Curtis sought clarification.

Mawk gave Curtis a knowing look.

"Oh, come off it, Mawk!" Curtis exclaimed in exasperation. "Not this again! I'm not your shrink, dude… Besides, what could you have done? You were slashed through an' through. That was a nasty gash. Doctors said you're lucky your guts didn't spill out!"

"I know, but I had more than a moment to do something. I was the one that led him to the party room. Hell, I knew there'd been no botched order and I even saw the knife on his hip! Just as he headed through the double doors, I had a moment to do something! Something more than just saying 'sorry, wrong house,' you know?" He started stuttering as different options tumbled from his mouth. "I could have called the police, grabbed a bat, or... or rushed to my dad's room! He has a gun, you know."

"Yeah, I know. You brought it to school for your how-to speech freshman year and nearly got expelled. You're lucky that your parents are loaded and the gun wasn't." Curtis chuckled nervously. "But in all seriousness, that's what happens when most people are faced with danger: in that moment they freeze. Deer-in-headlights and such. Uh, fight or flight!"

"In that moment..." Mawk repeated ruefully. "You don't get it, do you? I had more than a moment. More than a split second. Enough time to think and act, but I didn't. I let it happen, Curt. It's my fault. You're talking about fight or flight like I had no choice in the matter, but if that is what kicked in… Why did I choose flight?" He looked at Curtis for answers but could barely make out his friend in the night.

Curtis stretched and yawned. "If you ran for the gun, Mr. Death probably would have killed you and then everyone else. If you called the cops, he probably wouldn't have cared; he seemed to want them there anyway. Heard a rumor that he taunted the cops before he invaded your house and gave them his location. You reacted how a normal, fully functioning human being would react."

"But you didn't!" Mawk exploded. "I froze, you didn't! That's what bothers me! How is it that you were able to think straight enough to survive a fight with a man that brutal while I was just nearly another statistic? I was on the football team: split-second decisions are my thing! You're just some tech geek, for crying out loud!" Mawk then added with a thumbs up: "No offense, dude. Tech geeks rock."

"Right..." Curtis replied dryly. "I guess I am not normal then, huh?"

"Oh, don't be modest. Were you, like, Robin or something before the Justice Lords took over? You stayed cool even when you were being beaten. I don't get it, man."

Curtis scratched the back of his neck nervously as he tried to calm his friend down. "Don't worry about it. What I did... It wasn't very smart. If everyone did the same thing I did every time there was a threat—"

"The world would be a safer place," Mawk interrupted.

"...there would be a lot of dead people..." Curtis finished his sentence slowly, his voice trailing off with a look of concern. "Think about it, Mawk. He would have killed me if Batman hadn't shown up."

"I do think about it, I can't stop thinking about it. And that's the problem. You made a difference that night; whether you would have been killed or not, you stood up for her while I... Curt, if it wasn't for your interference, Kimber would likely be..." He swallowed whatever he was about to say next and thumped the carpet with a closed fist. "But it's whatever." His voice shifted to a darker tone. "I just want to be that difference, you know? Make sure no one has to go through that trauma. I won't choose flight. Never again." Mawk made his way to the window and climbed through.

"Mawk, what does that mean?" Curtis hurriedly got to his feet and went to the window. "Mawk, what the hell does that mean?" He called out, trying to get an answer from his friend. "Don't do anything stupid!"

Mawk's answered back, his voice distant and seemingly ethereal in the dark. "Oh, I won't."

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The man was hanging in the same position, same location. The black spheres that held his arms and legs sprawled out and the constricting, dark blue jumpsuit that he wore were all making him sweat heavily. The power in the facility had gone out maybe an hour before causing the room temperature to shoot up rapidly without proper ventilation and air conditioning thanks to the parching, dull red lights. Was it an hour ago? I think that's what an hour feels like. Either way, It can't be long now, he reassured himself.

Suddenly, an explosion shook the containment room. There were screams and yells outside the lead-lined door – the screams and yells used to be distant but now sounded mere meters away. A chorus of gunshots chimed in his ears and a faint smile creased his face. It felt foreign to smile again, but it also felt good. With that weak smile on his lips, he closed his eyes.

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He was falling. His eyes wanted to open, but he was so weak they remained shut. He hit the ground with a thud and lay there, feeling as if he could melt into the bare metal floor. Some time between him closing his eyes and now, the red lights in his cell had been deactivated so the ground was nice and cool. Lying there was the closest he'd come to lying on a bed in nearly a year. He was suddenly disturbed from his makeshift mat, lifted by a strong arm. A familiar militaristic voice spoke over the blaring alarms.

"Get your ass up, Kent, it's time to get you outta here!"

The weakened man half-opened his eyes and saw a black man with crimson pupils in a dark crimson and black alien jumpsuit looking down at him.

With a determined tone, the man repeated his command. "I said get up!"

Kent found his new smile had never left his face. He had been waiting for this moment for a very long time; storing what he could of his remaining strength. "Let's do this." The man stumbled to the proper wall as his friend used his ring's power to shield them from incoming gunfire. Summoning all his might, Kent threw all of his stored strength into one powerful wall-shattering punch. The barrier gave way to his fist and, after his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found himself staring into an empty shaft.

"Hold on!" John Stewart wrapped one arm around Clark Kent's waist and held his other arm out. The ring on his fist pulsed crimson and then the two took to the air. Stweart soared up the shaft with his companion in tow and soon he smashed through the roof of the subterranean facility and into the fading blue and rich purple of a glorious sunrise. As the duo left the hectic scene behind, Stewart addressed Clark. "You were down on sublevel 52. They really didn't want to take their chances. Took me about half the night just to find your cell!"

Kent laughed and said, "At least I am out now." In the warm, rising yellow sunlight, he felt his strength slowly returning. His power would never fully recover. All the power and mutations he had gained in his previous life were gone. And it was all thanks to a certain Dark Knight. But his time will come. Soon.