Justice Lords Limitless Act 2: EndWar

Diana lay in bed staring at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep. She'd been lying down since eight but sleep still eluded her. Outside it was raining rather harshly. A seemingly eternal downpour peppered her roof consistently with heavy raindrops that sounded more like dulled machine gun fire than water. The storm had started off rather slow but had picked up steam in the two hours since she'd nestled under the covers. A flash of lightning in the distance partially illuminated her bedroom and a second or so later came the rumble of thunder. She couldn't sleep, but it wasn't because it was raining cats and dogs.

As her eyes quickly adjusted from the flash of lightning, she looked out of her bedroom window to the street. She couldn't sleep because there was a curious sound outside, a sound not likely caused by the storm. She kept hearing a crunching around her window. At first, she thought it was her imagination running away with her, then when she could no longer write it off as a mere auditory hallucination, she thought it was the mild wind disturbing a tree branch. But now she was certain that the crunching noise was footsteps. Someone was rooting around the perimeter of her small home.

But I have no idea who or why, she thought to herself. Every time I look outside, I don't see anything.

She'd already moved, of her own volition, out of the apartment the Wayne Foundation had granted her and into a quaint condo in the more quiet outskirts of the west end. It was time for a new life. She was no longer Wonder Woman, after all; now she was Diana Prince, a friendly young woman who'd moved to Gotham from a small European town. It was a role she was playing so well that even she was beginning to believe it. Now, with her hair grown out and an unflattering pair of glasses on her face, she felt sure that she no longer looked like Lord Wonder Woman.

Again lightning flashed and again thunder crashed. She instinctively drew the sheets closer to her body. She never liked rainstorms. The turbulent weather always made her feel sad – as if Zeus himself was depressed. But who am I to play psychologist to a god? As she relaxed a bit in her bed, she heard the noise again, this time it was getting further away as if retreating.

She took a few moments to collect herself and then stood from her bed and crept to the window hoping to catch a look at her assumed creeper. With her back pressed against the wall, she peered outside just as another bolt of lightning seared the sky. In that brief flash of light, she caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure dashing across the street from her house toward a car parked along the road. She didn't even get a moment to process what she'd seen before something large and dark crashed through her window. She screamed.

The rain and wind shot in through the breach, but she disregarded the mess. Her attention was focused on the object itself: a worn, red brick lay on the now-dirty carpet nestled among shards of glass. Twine was wrapped around the brick and pinned to the brick by this twine was a folded note. With shaky hands, she carefully picked up the object and removed the damp paper. She read the message out loud in fear. "Now, even you can die."

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"Are you scared?"

The question caught him by surprise. Mawk had been droning on, admittedly a bit absentmindedly, on the firm couch in Dr. Morrison's office. He'd been going to therapy since the start of the year at his parents' behest. He didn't really think he needed it, but if it made his folks more comfortable, he'd go with it. He knew he was fine, so usually he'd carry out his own filibuster and waste time yapping and chatting for the hour. Sure, sometimes Dr. Morrison would ask a question, but this one was straight out of left field. Mawk looked at his therapist with an incredulous smile. "I'm… sorry? What?"

The therapist looked down at his notes. "These biweekly sessions are for you to deal with the trauma of that night. However, you usually talk about any and everything but the event. Why is that?"

Mawk snorted but embarrassment still crept over his dark cheeks. He didn't think his plan was that transparent. He forced a laugh. "Well, that's probably because we've already talked about that night. It's all we talked about when we started these sessions." He shrugged and slapped his thighs as if satisfied. "I'm sorry to waste your time like this but—"

Dr. Morrison crossed his legs casually. "You're right, Mawk. We did discuss that night back in January and February. But rather than talk about the attack, you continually focused on your girlfriend." He paused as he checked his notepad. "Kimber."

Mawk was silent for the first time that session.

Dr. Morrison scanned a few pages of his notes to strengthen his observation. "You repeatedly commented on the dress she wore. Twice today you've mentioned her early nights, unprompted. Here you point out that she was talking to another classmate at your party – the same classmate who stood up to your attacker. In relation to the event, you've mentioned Kimber over twenty times, the classmate – er, Curtis – seven of those times… But Jean-Paul has only been mentioned thrice and you've never discussed his actions." The calm but piercing gaze of Dr. Morrison rested on Mawk and demanded an answer. "Are you scared?"

Mawk laughed nervously and shifted on the couch, sitting up now. "Scared? Scared of what?"

"Scared that she doesn't actually love you."

Mawk bit the inside of his cheek and then drummed up his bravado. "We've had rough spots. We've been dating on and off since early high school, so that's expected. That's nearly four years. Now, we're steady. Sure, she was hangin' with Curt at my party, but we were on a break. And we discussed it: there was nothing there. After all, how could she say no to this?" He grinned and flexed through his letterman jacket, ignoring the dull pain that shot through his abdomen. "Don't get me wrong, Curt's a nice guy, but he's just some dork. Sensitive and soft, y'know? And it's not like he won that fight, right? He got his ass handed to him by Jean-Paul, so…" He trailed off as memories of Curtis' desperate struggle against Mr. Death resurfaced.

The therapist noted the pause. "If you feel you could have successfully fought off Jean-Paul – and you did say you knew something was off while he was in the hallway alone – why didn't you confront him?"

Mawk swallowed hard and looked at the floor. His jaw tightened as he recalled the paralyzing fear that had control of his body that night. He'd chosen flight. He hated himself for that, hated himself with his whole being. Never again, he thought, Never again will I choose flight. But he couldn't move on if he kept lying to himself, right? Right. His response came as an unconscious whisper. "Because I was scared."

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Mawk exited Dr. Morrison's office with a subdued look on his face. His eyes were cast down and his body hunched. Ordinarily when he left his therapy sessions he would head straight to Big Belly Burger and chow down on a Belly Buster Delight with extra lettuce, but now he knew he didn't deserve that. Not today. No, today he realized he'd only been rewarding himself for his deflection.

He entered the elevator at the end of the hall and hit the button for the ground floor. As he descended alone, he thought over the day's revelation. It was the first time at these sessions that he'd come away feeling rather introspective. The whole time he thought he'd been deftly dealing with the shrink, the shrink had actually put their degree to use and had been reading him like a book. He would have been impressed had he not been the target.

"That's unfair," he said aloud in counter to his thoughts. "He did his job. I was only playing myself." He hadn't realized just how much he'd given way by not talking about the event. His doctor had not only gently explained avoidance as a coping mechanism but also highlighted just how much he was concerned with what Kimber thought. He'd been weak that night, he'd demonstrated that he wasn't the man that he should have been. He saw the way Kimber looked at him, like she had to be the one to protect him. It was ludicrous. He should have protected her, instead he'd left her to fend for herself and Curtis, of all people, had to pick up his slack.

Roughly, he shouldered the door and excited the office complex. As he did, he thought about giving Kimber a call to check up on her. He pulled out his phone as he walked to his car but his finger hovered over her contact and after a second or two of internal deliberation, he scrolled away from her name. He needed to talk to someone but not her, not after that conversation.

He scrolled up through his contact list, skipping Jerome, and stopped on seeing the name of a former football teammate, David Goggins. He opened the contact and read through the chat. Dave was a great guy, capable and reliable; however, he was also a huge lunkhead. As nice of a guy as Dave was, he wasn't the type of person to have a sensitive conversation. He backed out of the contact and his eyes fell on Curtis' entry, and he almost clicked it.

Curtis was one of the few teens he'd invited to the Winter Bash who'd visited him regularly in the hospital that wasn't also already a close friend. He'd even spent a few long nights helping Mawk catch up on work he'd missed from being infirmed. The tech geek was a good listener and he needed someone that would listen. He opened the contact and hit the call button. Curtis had a good heart, he could understand the appeal his soft nature must have had on Kimber. Mawk stopped walking and his face darkened.

"Hey, what's up, man?" Curtis answered the phone, sounding a bit distracted.

Mawk let the call linger for a second in silence as he thought about just how well Kimber and Curtis got along so quickly. More than that, he thought again about just how effective Curtis had been in the fight against Mr. Death. He'd joshed about Curtis' beating to Dr. Morrison, but in reality he knew that Curtis had displayed more physical prowess than anyone would have expected from him. That night, Curtis had been that difference, not him. Never again. Animosity crept up Mawk's throat.

"Mawk? You there?"

Mawk hung up the call swiftly and ignored Curtis' redial. He watched the call screen flash with the default profile picture as Curtis called back. He couldn't talk to Curtis. He couldn't talk to anyone. This was something he had to handle himself. He waited for the call to go to voicemail before shooting Curtis a quick message about butt dialing him by accident and then silenced and closed his phone before Curtis could pry anymore. That was something the kid was also good at: prying.

He resumed walking to the parking lot, his mind now swimming with possible ways to find his strength – his true strength. As he climbed into his car and started the engine, he checked the time. He grimaced. "Running late… Shit." He quickly put the car in reverse and backed out of the lot as quickly as possible. If he was going to get across city lines before five, he'd have to gun it down the highway and risk a ticket. Oh, how he wished his car was rocket-powered.

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"Got your message, Boss. I thought we weren't on for tonight?" Kimber entered the BatCave dressed in street clothes and approached Batman at the Batcomputer. "What's the case?"

Batman kept tapping away at the keyboard. "Emergency reconnaissance. Received word that Clark Kent and John Stewart have holed up in Star City. We need to canvas the area to get an idea of what they could be after and who could be helping them."

"Oh really?" Kimber placed a hand on her hip in half-frustration. "So let me see if I have this right: The former Green Lantern escapes and you instead go to Arkham to talk to the green alien man. Then he breaks out another Lord, the former Superman no less, and we instead focus our efforts on catching Amygdala in Midtown. Now, all these weeks later, you're ready to go on the offensive when they're outside of Gotham? I fail to see the logic in that. We may match them man-for-man, but if I remember correctly, John has a new power ring; and with J'onn's natural powers still functional, who knows what power the malevolent Man of Tomorrow retained!"

"If you don't understand my method concerning this case, don't worry." As Batman spoke, Kimber went to the Armory. She entered a stall and began changing into her uniform. "It's to be expected. Just follow me and do as I say. John Stewart didn't break himself out of Blackgate – someone on the outside helped him. By trailing them, we may learn who it is. Once we know the full picture, we can plan to take them all down. And if things go south tonight, we wouldn't match them man-for-man: we would have them outnumbered."

Batgirl exited the stall in full gear but still fiddling with her bracers. Confused at her mentor's words, she looked around the cave as if a surprise guest would be waiting in the wings. Only blank walls and dark corners greeted her. "I'm sorry, but I only see you and me."

Batman said nothing. He simply stood from the Batcomputer's chair and stalked off to the waiting Batmobile. The car had swiveled into place for a speedy exit by the time Batman reached it and soon he was behind the wheel.

Batgirl wasn't bothered by her mentor's lack of response, she had come to expect it. The Bat wasn't one for wasting words. She guessed that in time she would learn what he meant. In the meantime, she just had to follow along and watch closely. Learn by doing, learn by watching: that's what he'd drilled into her early in her training. It wasn't an unfamiliar philosophy, either. Her mother had taught her an adage from her own profession: see one, do one, teach one. Now, she understood. She straddled her motorbike and flipped the ignition switch. The powerful bike rumbled to life beneath her and she took a few breaths to center herself.

"Stay close," Batman said over the radio. She heard the growl of the Batmobile waking from its slumber and soon the two peeled out of the cave like bats out of hell.

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The dynamic duo reached the edge of Star City in record time. Though further from Gotham than Metropolis, Star City was still considered a sister city. Many times during the reign of the Justice Lords, Batman made appearances there to quash unrest and root out dissent. There were a few times that he even patrolled the city by air during the first year of their control. Though he had never established a permanent presence in the city, Batman still felt familiar in the more landlocked city. At least, more familiar than he ever did in Metropolis. He brought the Batmobile to a stop behind a defunct service station.

"Is this where we start?" Batgirl asked after she killed the engine on her bike. She checked her GPS. "Can't help but notice we're on the borders of the city."

"Not yet." He looked up to the roof. "Rooftops."

It took only seconds for the duo to get to the building's roof. They were afforded a rather impressive view of Star City's rather smogless skyline. The skyline was rather square and modern in design and Batgirl could easily imagine that some of the more ornate buildings sported chic interiors. Unlike Gotham, there were no brooding cathedral-like skyscrapers and unlike the pictures she'd seen of Metropolis the buildings did not reach for the sky. The city was almost quaint.

"Follow." Batman broke into a run forward and gave his instruction at the same time. He kept his back curved and his profile low as he held onto the edges of his cape to keep it from flaring out dramatically.

Bagirl recognized what he was doing and why they'd parked so far away. He wanted to keep a low profile. She gave chase and matched his stealthy technique with practiced precision. "Thinking Superman or G.L. could be watching?"

"Among others," Batman replied cryptically. The two bound over a gap between two buildings and kept running.

Batgirl thought about Batman's response. They were strangers in a strange city and whatever goodwill Gothamites had to the Dark Knight would not exist here, especially after the Justice Lords subjugation. Even so, the chances of being seen galavanting over rooftops to meet with a shady confidant were slim, but if Superman and Green Lantern weren't the only ones whose gaze Batman wanted to avoid, who else was there? They cleared another jump and halfway to the next building's ledge, Batman put out his hand and signaled a stop.

Batgirl trotted to his side and waited. One minute turned into two, which turned into three, to five, seven. Eventually when Batgirl could contain her anticipation no longer, she fiddled with the holster of her bat-claw and broke the silence. "So what's the deal? You have a lead or are we just going to wait for something to happen?"

"We're waiting for my contact," Batman grunted in response. "He should be here soon."

She could tell he was annoyed by something, but she wasn't sure if it was her impatience or his contact's tardiness. He decided to test her luck. "How soon?"

"Now." The new, lighter voice came from behind the duo. Batgirl was caught by surprise and she spun around, fists cocked and ready to strike. Her eyes settled on a dark form that seemed to materialize out of the shadows. He hadn't been there when they'd arrived and the gravelly surface of the roof would have made it difficult to land without making a sound, so how had she not heard him touch down? Her eyes narrowed behind her helmet as she waited for a cue from her mentor on how to proceed, just like when they'd questioned J'onn.

Batman stepped forward. He straightened his back, his cape swallowing him up and making him more a phantom than anything else. He didn't appear the least bit pleased at the newcomer's apparently relaxed attitude.

"You're late." Batman's first words to the contact were words of mild admonishment and confirmed to Batgirl that his annoyance had been, at least in part, a result of wasted time. However, it was the next word that shook Batgirl. "Robin."

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"Another partner? I can't believe you have another partner!" Kimber exclaimed at the top of her lungs as soon as she was back in the BatCave. "What on Earth made you think you needed another partner? What, have I not been pulling my weight?" They had arrived in the cave ten minutes earlier, but this one-way conversation had started the moment they were back in Gotham.

Through the whole ordeal, Batman had shown no emotion and given only little response. All he'd said, and repeated, was that she needed the practice.

"You keep talking about practice, but practice for what, exactly? I train in this cave nearly every evening! What on Earth could replacing me with this boy-toy be practice for?" Kimber stormed to the training room and began taking her frustrations out on a training dummy.

"You're not fired. You're not being replaced." Batman tersely answered her and quelled whatever concern for her position she may have had. "You hold your own well in a fight, but your detective and problem-solving skills need to be better. Remember the car crash you could have avoided? What about the botched job on Elliot Fudsworth? If your file hadn't been double-checked, we may have had another murder on our hands."

Kimber glared at her target as she rained blow after blow on the dummy. "That was one time, boss!" She wheeled around with her shoulders squared and her nostrils flared. "One time! It hasn't happened since and you know that!" She dared to throw an accusatory finger Batman's way. "I understood your corrections. I've improved!"

"I'm not the one who corrected your work."

She tilted her head and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "If not you... Then who?"

Batman only stared at her.

"Chiz..." Her shoulders sagged. "From back then?"

"He figured out where you went wrong before I'd left." Batman crossed his arms. "I've watched him for a while: he's sharp. Thus far, our nightly escapades have still eluded mainstream news stations. Few acknowledge I am back and even fewer know of you. Yet he already knew about you when I'd approached him, even knowing that you were active before I'd returned. Now, he's taken it upon himself to find out who you are under the helmet."

Kimber paused her beat-down and looked at her mentor in utter disbelief and confusion. "What the hell?"

"So, consider this a test," Batman continued. "A test of your problem-solving skills and detective work."

She placed a hand on the dummy to stop it from rocking from her last strike and then looked at the floor. "Well, how do I ace it?"

"Find out who is behind the mask before he finds you out."

Kimber was quiet for a moment as she stared at the floor, trying to figure out where to start. As much as she hated to admit it, the Boss was right: her detective skills were sorely lacking. She pensively leaned her rear on the top of a nearby table, propping herself up with her arms. "I didn't realize I was such a shit detective," she said with a slight huff. "But if I really was holding you back, why not just train me the normal way? You've run me through theory on most else. Why this stupid test?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Nothing I do is stupid. Some skills are best learned on the job. It helps account for the pressure, the time crunch. It makes it more natural."

Even though he hadn't growled his response as he usually did when berating her, Kimber still shrank away from his presence before responding, notably less antagonistic. "So you want me to find out who this 'Robin' character is, huh?"

Batman barely nodded, already moved on to other things.

"Fine, when he gets here—"

"He won't be here." Batman didn't even look up from his work as he interrupted her.

Kimber again expressed confusion. "But this is the BatCave, where else would you keep him? On a rooftop in a coop?"

Batman looked up from his work at her, and she swore that a slight look of amusement played on his lips. "What makes you think I only have one cave?"

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Robin surveyed the city at his feet. It wasn't Gotham, but Star City was in just as much need of help. When he was younger, he recalled stories of a drug epidemic sweeping the otherwise safe streets of Star City – heroin, if he remembered correctly. Though the problem was forcibly settled during the reign of the Justice Lords, now that the fascist regime had fallen, drug rings were rearing their ugly heads again like a hydra.

A cry for help in a back alley cut into his thoughts and he made his way there, stealthily running to the roof edge, just as Batman taught him. He crouched low and looked down from his high perch. Two men, one woman. One man was holding the other from behind as the woman was stripping the captive of all his valuables. He analyzed the situation and recognized , just barely, the slight reflection of a knife in the woman's hand.

"Hero time." Without a second thought, Robin dropped from the roof and landed, noiselessly, behind the captor. He jabbed two fingers into the man's lower back, striking a nerve. The offender instantly let his captive go and staggered off to the side clutching his back.

Without even a second to lose, the former captive lashed out with a flurry of wild, brutal kicks to the thieving girl's shins and arms. She cried out in surprise as the victim went on the offensive tackling her to the ground as he tried to wrestle back his belongings. With the thieving woman otherwise occupied, Robin quickly shot his elbow into her accomplice's temple, knocking him out.

"SCPD, freeze!" As the man slumped against the brick wall, an officer rounded the corner of the alley and swept his light over the alley to get a quick lay of the situation.

Robin felt the beam wash over him as the officer sloppily shed light on the scene. As soon as the beam had moved on from his form, he grappled up. From overhead he watched the beam quickly shoot back to the empty spot he'd occupied moments ago. He grinned from his vantage point as his ear caught a muffled expletive as the officer likely second-guessed her eyes.

Neither the victim nor the perpetrators had seen him and the policewoman had likely only caught a subconscious glimpse at best of his legs. For all she knew, it could have been a friendly ghost that had interfered with the mugging. That bode well because his mission wasn't to fight crime but observe and report. There were eyes that he didn't want on him quite yet. Robin cracked a grin. Plus one for stealth.

Robin left the scene behind and stuck to the shadows as he headed for home base. On his way, he thought about how much he and the two Bats could actually hope to stop the potential threat to the world. With Superman and the Green Lantern free to wreak havoc, it would take a whole lot of power to take them down. It wouldn't be as simple as a Kryptonite bullet and some yellow powder anymore, especially considering Stewart's wardrobe change. Who knew what, if any, weakness the now-Crimson Lantern had? And if Batman's hunch was right, there was an even more nefarious plot brewing.