Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Paris, France

Weeks later

Black SUV’s and vans raced down the streets, weaving around traffic, with passengers sticking their heads through windows to fire automatic weapons at pursuing cars and motorcycles. One man opened up the sunroof to fire an RPG, the grenade missing and blowing up a van which dodged the wrong way.

Grimly the pursuers shot back, forced to make do with sidearms and sub machine guns, their bullets pinging off the armour and bulletproof windows of the heavily customised vehicles.

Behind them all raced police cars, the blare of sirens cutting through the panicked screams of the Parisian citizens.

Driving the lead SUV was a man in black-and-orange armour, carrying an armoury of weapons upon his person, and cursing the incompetence of his associates. Slade Wilson, the Deathstroke, was one of the world's deadliest assassins, a bounty hunter, and a mercenary-for-hire. Only to find himself now working pro bono for a chance to kill the Batman.

Two weeks ago he had been approached by Luthor’s little group, and while the man himself was dead, his followers retained a cult-like devotion to him. Moreover, they retained many of the billionaire's hidden assets, and a similar grudge against costumed freaks. Yes, they were willing to tear down society in the process (omelets and eggs, as it were), but Deathstroke figured that would be good for business. Unfortunately, Luthor had taken most of his biggest secrets to the grave with him, keeping them locked out of several facilities, and depriving them of everything Luthor had known about this sanctimonious ‘Justice League.’

They had adapted though, and uncovered the existence of a chemical weapon developed within Paris owned by one of Luthor’s shell companies. They had lavished praise for his skills, while claiming how the plan was elegant in its simplicity, with the opening stroke being to unleash it within Gotham. Personally, Deathstroke doubted it would kill Batman in time, except the subsequent series of similar chemical attacks on major cities, followed by demands for the US government to turn over the Justice League should do the trick. And if not? Well, that was just a taste of what was to come.

Unhappily, things had quickly started to come apart.

There had been a mole, and now agents of some government group Slade did not instantly recognise was after them. He did not know what they knew, but they had to break pursuit long enough for him to take the package and make his own way. Even if the others were caught and squealed, there was no way to seal off the entirety of Gotham from the likes of him.

Unless he did Metropolis instead . . .

The hairs on the back of his neck shot up, and he hit the brakes too late as the entire vehicle shuddered as something heavy landed on the roof. Despite the abrupt halt, nothing came flying off, and instead he heard the sound of something tearing open the roof!

Everyone else swerved around him at neck-breaking speeds, but his attention was on spinning around shooting his pistol at whoever it was, only to see sparks fly as they did absolutely nothing against Cyborg. The rest of the people still alive in the back fired their guns, sending bullets ricocheting within the cramped space to kill most of them with their own weapons.

Deathstroke was no fool. Long, careful thought had been given to how to kill each and every member of the Justice League, including this one. Except, of course, doing so while belted into the front seat of a deathtrap was not on the list.

As much as it galled Deathstroke, he was fortunate Cyborg ignored him to grab the case holding the weapon samples. Meanwhile, the mercenary released his seatbelt and was rolling out of the SUV to gain some distance. The rest of their convoy drove right past him, swerving wildly to get around his former, now driverless, van, yet he had timed it perfectly so as to not get hit. 

Cyborg flew out of the hole he had made and into the sky, and Deathstroke eyed the incoming line of government agents. Seizing one of their vehicles even as they were driving at him while shooting would not be easy, but he had pulled this—

Instincts screaming, he spun back around to look where his now former associates were headed. 

Down the road, through a gap in all of Luthor’s group, a lone figure strode into the middle of the road.

Clad in that ridiculous armour, cloak billowing mysteriously in the breeze, and T-visor, making a joke out of everything from a TV show that was not even as good as people thought it was!

Even worse, Deathstroke could hear the theme music in his head!

Time seemed to go still—

Manda the Mandalorian raised a gun with a barrel so absurdly oversized Deathstroke could see it from here.

Fans of Warhammer 40,000 would later gleefully compare the weapon to a boltgun. Meanwhile, Star Wars fans would be mortally offended that he/she/they were not using a blaster.

In the here and now, none of this was known or relevant to the infamous mercenary, as he could only watch in horror, as instead of a recoil that should have shattered their shoulder, Mando’s bullets tore apart armoured SUVs supposed to be able to shrug off light machine guns.

With precision violence the undercarriage of every one of them was ripped off, bringing them and their cargo slamming down bruised, broken, yet mostly alive.

Raising their head, the mysterious member of the Justice League seemed to stare right through Deathstroke’s soul.

“Nope,” he said, and moved to run away.

Cyborg’s fist clocked him, and Slade left a dent in the stone wall of an office building as he bounced off it.  

“Darn right,” said the hero, matter-of-factly, and fired a light plasma burst to knock the mercenary unconscious, fry his gear, and destroy the last remaining sample of the chemical weapon hidden on his person. A quick scan confirmed Deathstroke was still alive.

The agents who had been pursuing the whole group had come to a stop, and some approached him. Their caution was a little annoying, if begrudgingly understandable.

“Tom Tressor,” Cyborg greeted the man in the lead. “Nice work. Hope you don’t mind us getting involved.”

Unsurprisingly for a master actor and infiltrator, Tressor did not so much as blink at being outed. “Happy to have you,” he said charmingly. “The rest of it?”

“Got it stashed up on a rooftop. Half a minute.” In the time it took for Cyborg to return to give the case to agents to take custody of, they had noticed ‘Manda’ had vanished.

“Here you go,” Cyborg said, knowing his single biological eye was laughing.

“Uhm, your partner—”

“Partner?” he asked innocently. “What partner? But seriously, keep up the good work.” Without another word, he took off back to the collateral damage of the car chase to render aid to all the people hurt there. Meanwhile, Annabeth would watch to ensure the authorities did indeed properly dispose of the chemical weapon. Even if by all accounts these men and women were sane and moral enough to ensure the threat was properly handled after confirming it was all accounted for, when it came to something like this, it was best to be sure.

-X/\X/\X-

Gotham City

Wayne Manor

From Victor’s metallic hands, he projected a holographic video of the French authorities destroying the chemical weapon, confirming the matter was firmly resolved.  

“So all in all, it was a complete success,” reported Annabeth smugly, while her husband theatrically sulked beside her.

It had been decided that, for the time being, it was best to only show one of the ‘Mandalorians’ at a time, to help further disguise Mera’s absence. To which Annabeth had won the coin toss to go on the Paris mission.

Of course, the rest of the heroes liked to think that, regardless of the results, they would have sent the subtlest of the pair for a mission like that.

“Good to hear,” said Bruce, allowing himself a small smirk of satisfaction at Wilson’s arrest, even if he knew from experience that it would not last long.   

Victor dispersed the hologram, and Barry gave him a fistbump.

“You should be proud of handling that without any lives lost,” said Diana. Sure, most of Luthor’s dupes had been hospitalized to varying degrees, but that was to be expected in their line of work.

“We’re sending a strong message,” agreed Clark, hands in the pockets of his suit, and glasses peeking out of a pocket. The man was back to working at the Daily Planet, and in Gotham for a follow-up report on how the now-evacuated military had handled the post-crisis there. “A supportive one.”

“And looking cool while doing it,” said Barry with a wink. Realising how that could sound, he grimaced and opened his mouth, only for Annabeth to cut him off not unkindly.

“No reason we can’t look good so long as we’re actually doing good,” she said.

“Yeah!”

“Even if they’re calling us something as ridiculous as the Justice League,” said Victor dryly.

“They like it!” protested Barry, choosing to dig in and defend his impulse branding like he thought he actually liked it.

Everyone, barring Mera of course, was standing in a loose circle in the great hall. It was all very informal, and yet fitting for them, even if maybe Barry wished for a chair. Not that there was one available right now.

The building was a rundown hulk, any hints of paint long stripped away, and moaning winds which made it all too easy to believe the mansion was haunted. The last thing one would expect of Wayne Manor, the ancestral home of the Wayne family which had been Rich since the late 19th century. 

For years it had been Bruce’s home, the center of so many happy memories. Containing many of the last mementos of his parents. Of Dick. Only shortly after his son’s murder, before Bruce caught the man and broke all his teeth, Joker had crashed the public celebration of life for Dick, and set the place ablaze. 

After that . . . Bruce could not make himself rebuild it. Not when so much had been lost. Not when it would never be the same without the people who should have been in there. 

So he had abandoned it to weeds and neglect, and bought himself a sleek, ultra-modern place which was nothing like the home he had grown up in. Small enough for one man and his butler to live comfortably, lots of windows, bright and shiny, and as little to associate with his old place as possible. If anything, it had become more of a cover for his real home, the Batcave, than the original manor had been. 

Now though, it was time for new beginnings. A fresh start on a new chapter in his life, and he could think of nothing better than to turn his old home into the headquarters of something real and pure to make the world a better place—the Justice League. He could imagine his parents and Dick looking on in pride at what he was doing with it now. 

They were not moving in just yet, as obviously there was a lot of refurbishing that needed to be done, and exterminators to remove the pests. Thankfully there was no rush either, as there had been so many with other things. 

Despite this, it was still serving as their headquarters, even as the refurbishment had finally begun now that the situation in Gotham was largely stabilized. All the survivors had homes again, the military was being staggered out, and crime was lower than it had been in decades! Over a century even!

Possibly because the local crime elements were quietly still rebuilding. Also possibly because they were now afraid Batman had lost all restraint, and might take out their places of operation with an airstrike.

Incidentally, construction of the Flying Fox II was continuing apace.

Granted, the actual reconstruction of their shared base would have to wait until Bruce and Annabeth had come to an agreement about the new blueprints. Yes, the others would have a say as well, but obviously the professional paranoiac and architect had the biggest vote. Given how that would inevitably mean the planned Hall of Justice would be able to fight off an army, stealth strike forces, potentially more zombie ninjas, and any and every other possible contingency, nobody was really complaining.   

Deciding they were spiralling off on tangents, Bruce spoke up again. “In addition to stopping that terrorist attack,” he turned to nod proudly at Diana and Barry, “that earthquake was handled excellently. Full disaster relief was provided, and the crisis reduced to manageable levels with just the two of you.”

Everyone else gave their own praise for the rescue work they had performed. In turn, the goddess gave a shallow nod of acknowledgement, while the speedster scratched the back of his head bashfully.

Annabeth opened her mouth to say something, only for Bruce to beat her to the punch. “For the next order of business though, I want my basement back.”

“But I thought Percy, Annabeth, and Victor—oh! You mean the Talons!” went Barry as he caught on.

“Yes. The dozens of brainwashed assassins in cryotubes, along with the also frozen scientists who know everything about it, taking up space. To the point you can barely move around with how they’re stacked up. I was fine with it for the first few days, but it’s been weeks now.”

A few awkward coughs circulated around.

“We can’t let them out, but they can’t stay that way either.”

“It might be a mercy to end their misery,” said Diana gently, even as she braced herself for where she knew this would lead. “While some of them showed promise with my Lasso, most of the Talons are very much willing servants.”

“Then we’re going to have a problem,” said Bruce firmly. “I don’t have a problem killing when we’re facing the end of the world against aliens, except this isn’t that. And it involves me handing people over to be killed in cold blood.”

“Maybe someplace else for us to locate them?” offered Clark. “Someplace safe?”

“Which leads to the issue of us having our own private prison,” pointed out Annabeth. “That can become a slippery slope, and will set off a panic if it’s discovered.”

“Which I don’t feel comfortable with anyway,” commented Barry. “Are we sure we can’t just hand them over to the government to be locked up? I mean, if they’re not that brainwashed, then they committed all those nasty crimes of their own free will, right? So we hand them over and give some sort of warning about them not misusing the technology, without it sounding like a threat? Monitoring the situation from afar?”

“How do we know they won’t just abuse it?” protested Victor. “Turn around and have the Talons as assassins for the CIA or something?” 

“That’s a fair point,” conceded Clark. “But we’ve also got to prove we can work with the governments of this world at least to some extent. And for better or worse, how we interact with the American government will impact how every other one views us. While we’re not going to trust them with our secret identities, we do need to work with them at least to some extent. As much as we’re planning to remain neutral, we can’t take it all on ourselves; especially if we’re butting heads with officials. So giving the Talons over to the police or FBI for incarceration could be an expression of trust on our point, and seeing what they do with them will prove if they actually deserve it.”

Everyone exchanged glances with one another, and no one protested, so they accepted that as a silent agreement.

“I’ll figure out who to contact,” said Bruce. “And then I’ll need some help moving them,” to which the others nodded.

“That leads to another point I wanted to bring up, actually,” said Annabeth. “Well, I’ve other points.” Turning to Clark, she said, “We’ve got to do something about that Kryptonian ship lying about in Metropolis.”

“What do you mean?” he said carefully.

“Aside from my issues with government scientists messing around with technology much more advanced than anything they can handle? Apparently it’s got data about Apokolips stored within it, and who knows what else.”

Because while they were willing to take the risk with the government taking possession of zombie super-assassins, this was another story. Given the sheer number of near and actual catastrophes which had come from that ship, it was a global security risk. As vetted and trustworthy as S.T.A.R. Labs was, did they really want to chance the politicians and military getting their claws any deeper into it?

“Ah,” Clark briefly hedged. “I agree with you about the data. That we can get discreetly. But I let the government keep control of the ship to reassure them after the terror of Zod’s assault. And to provide  a way to help advance Humanity.”

“Except it was used to create the monster which killed you,” pointed out Diana. “That, and Zod’s body, which they also kept.”

“And it has terrible security,” said Annabeth flatly. “Both Luthor and ourselves infiltrated and made use of it with appalling ease, despite Krypton supposedly being so superior to anything we have.”

By this point, Percy placed a hand on her shoulder, cutting off what had become an increasingly heated rant, with Clark looking as if he were being physically attacked. “Ahem,” said Percy a little awkwardly. “She has opinions. Written down. It’s practically an essay. The point being though, that we have some serious concerns about the current circumstances.”

“Pluuuus,” said Barry awkwardly, “we put a hole in the roof. It’s even easier to get into now.”

“If they didn’t have the ship before though,” pointed out Clark, “then people would’ve been even more afraid.”

“We can’t let their fears rule us,” pointed out Diana.

“No, but we can’t let them interfere either,” said Victor. “How about we work with them more then? Contact the S.T.A.R. Labs scientists involved, and raise our concerns with them?”

“Especially since we’re also preparing for another alien invasion at an uncertain time,” said Bruce, crossing his arms in thought. “We’ll need more advanced technology if we’re going to pull this off. Except depending upon technology we don’t understand is a fool’s gambit. So we do need those scientists involved, if only to figure out what we’re working with, and to distribute that knowledge. So combining our efforts would only be beneficial.”

“Victor?” asked Clark. “You and I contact them together?”

“Sure thing. I suggest starting with Dr. Ryan Choi. Send him an email or something.” Child’s play for him. 

“We can work it out later. We’ll keep you,” he glanced at the rest, “in the loop, of course.”

“Of course,” said Diana easily.

“Is there anything else?”

“Yes.”

They all turned to Annabeth as her gaze swept over all of them, including her husband. “The reason I insisted we have another meeting like this is I feel we need to stop and make more plans.”

A few chuckles escaped the others, but none actually contested the words of the goddess of strategy.

“Point of fact, when we chose to resurrect Superman, we were throwing things together on the fly while breaking into the most secure research facility on the planet, using technology so far advanced we still don’t understand it, and inherently evil technology at that, and overall making things up as we went. The truth is, we got incredibly lucky it went as well as it did.”

No one actually looked at Clark, who in turn cringed a bit in guilt. Because they were right; if Lois had not been there . . .

“That’s okay,” she continued, “as we had all just come together, except next time we might not be so fortunate.”

“You want us to save the world properly next time,” said Victor a tad tartly, which made her wince.

“She hates improvising,” shrugged Percy. “Unless I’m doing it, and even then it’s a solid 40/60, and the forty is her hating it.”

“Usually because it involves you recklessly risking your life,” she said coolly, to which he stared at the ceiling and whistled with false innocence.

The other heroes gave him deadpan looks. Even in their short experience with him, they knew Annabeth was entirely correct about him.

“What are you proposing exactly?” asked Bruce, eyes narrowed slightly.

“We’ve already been working together figuring out how to be team players, but we can take it further. Staying in close contact beyond just a shared group chat. Finding more ways we can help each other. And deciding what we involve ourselves in.”

“What do you mean?” asked Barry, puzzled. “What we involve ourselves in?”

“We help people who need it,” said Clark firmly.

“And if a government’s going around killing their own people?” threw out Annabeth. “Would we have stepped in for the Rwandan Genocide if we had been around then? People invading Bialya for its oil? When do we intervene, and when are we acting as Ugly Americans throwing their weight around?”

“Hey!” protested Diana.  

“Ugly Americans and Beautiful Amazon,” corrected Annabeth.

“Thank you,” she said cheekily. “But,” the woman who had lived through multiple genocides, including ones which had occurred after the ‘civilised world’ had vowed never again, said, “those aren’t easy questions. Not even we could stop those conflicts on our own. Not without becoming tyrants forcing them to. Making them too afraid to fight each other, and then they and everyone else would be eying us instead.”

“So we just ignore people needing help?” said Percy, and there was a bitterness to his tone which spoke to how personal this matter was to him.

“Like gods looking down from Mt. Olympus, ignoring the mortal suffering,” said Bruce shrewdly. “Even their own children.”

“Exactly,” and everyone looked uncomfortable at the sheer venom drenching that one word. 

Diana’s fists were clenched tight, a dark look in her eyes, yet no one dared press the topic. Even Percy looked surprised at his reaction. 

“I’m not . . .  saying there is an easy answer,” said Clark, crossing his arms and looking down. “And I’m definitely not saying I have any of them. You know how so much of the public began to fear me, even without Luthor making things worse. There was so much fear, even when I was trying to help.”

“Except it only got so bad because you were doing it largely on your own,” protested Barry. “Now you’re not!”

“Solving problems with our fists isn’t the only solution,” said Bruce, carrying with it the sheer force of a man who had found conviction and faith after so long without it. Staring firmly at Clark, he continued, “You also inspired people. And that’s what we’ve got to continue to do. Not just be a team which fights, but one that helps guide people into choosing a better tomorrow.”

“When things like Annabeth’s concerns come up, we’ll have to consider each situation on a case-by-case basis,” said Victor decisively, arms folded defiantly over his chest. “See what we can do to help based on the context. World’s too complex for anything less.”

“Agreed,” said Diana firmly. “We might even find ways for the regular authorities to resolve it without us.” 

“Cept for the obvious stuff like wanted criminals and world disasters,” added Percy.

“Agreed,” said Bruce. “Agreed?”

“Agreed!” “Yes.” “Sounds good.” “Should work.” “Agreed.” “Oh hey, that was easy!”

“You wish, Barry. Oh, you wish,” said Percy resignedly.

“Huh?”

“It’s never that easy.” He clapped his hands together. “But hey! What about that helping each other part? Health benefits and all. Will, our chief healer, would reach across dimensions and kill us if we didn’t talk about that. Well, ‘cept me, Barry, and Clark, since we seem like we can heal off anything.”

Victor raised his hand.

“And Victor.”

Victor lowered his hand, a little amused.

“Safe houses,” said Annabeth, recalling her years on the run as a child. “Although they can’t all be tied back to Estelle Designs and Wayne Enterprises.”

“We can talk,” said Bruce brightly, clearly looking forward to collaborating with her on that.

“Making sure nobody loses their house because they are too busy saving the world. Medical. Therapy. That sort of stuff,” threw in Percy.

“Wait, you go to therapy?” popped out Barry in surprise. An emotion shared by the rest of the group. “Like, a shrink?”

“Yep,” said Percy matter-of-factly.

“Oh, no. Good on you for going. It’s just, y’know, aren’t you supposed to be honest with them?”

The couple shared a wince, with Percy scratching the back of his head. “Yes, that does make it difficult. We can tell our therapists, different ones because something about conflict of interest, that there’s some parts we don’t want to talk about, and, well, lie—”

“Exchange details,” said Annabeth with the air of a long argument.

“—about some stuff, or just omit the fine points. Like, ‘we can’t see the people we used to know anymore,’ instead of ‘in an alternate dimension’.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” asked Diana, “how did you get into therapy?” It was . . . not something she would have expected. Which honestly probably said concerning things about her own attitude towards warriors and heroes.

“Because of suffering treachery. An absolute betrayal,” said Percy sagely. For a heartbeat everyone thought he was being serious, before noting the teasing glint he was trying and failing to hide.

Annabeth made an audible sigh, and rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“These two other demigods, I mentored them, taught them the ropes, led them out of boot camp against obscene horrors from the darkest depths of Greek and Roman myths, like wheat and man-eating Canadians—”

Bruce, Barry, Clark, and Victor all shot glances at Diana, who had a pained expression on her face as she tried to judge how serious he was about that.

Annabeth was trying not to snicker. “As I recall, Hazel had to sponsor you.”

“Details. But later, while we were staying within the city they ruled with a tyrannical, iron fist—”

“Frank is a teddy bear, and Hazel is adorable.”

“Dude killed a god by setting himself on fire.”

“Fine. He’s a bulldog puppy.”

“Can we get back to the therapy?” Victor flatly interjected, knowing they were being messed with. Even if he would later appreciate specifics.

Diana felt like she had been clubbed between the eyes, and raised a palm to cover her face as if that would protect her from learning more of the couple’s insanity.

“Anyways,” went on Percy, “Hazel went and manipulated Annabeth into going.”

“She came to me, looking all sad and concerned about Percy, and suggesting it might help him, but he’d never try it if it was just him. But maybe if I went along, even for just the first few sessions, he’d do it. I should’ve known better.”

“Frank just went all grizzly bear, and carried me to the session by my collar in his teeth, ‘cause he knew I wouldn’t really hurt him, and tossed me into the waiting room where Annabeth already was, and a session already booked for us.”

“It helped,” conceded Annabeth. “It was a child of Somnus, the Roman god of sleep, and they knew what had happened to us. Also sneaky enough to trick me into doing stuff thinking it was for Percy, instead of my usual deep repression. By the time I figured things out, it was because I could already see how I was doing better, so we kept it up.

 “When we ended up here, we decided to keep it up, which was for the best. Not as effective obviously since we can’t be as open. But he helps us with stuff that a demigod might not necessarily think about, and definitely wouldn’t dare say aloud without risking a lightning bolt.”

“. . . Mommy and Daddy issues,” Victor said knowingly, yet without judgement. After all, it was not like he had any grounds to judge others on that.

“More than we thought,” admitted Percy. “Except for my mom, who is an angel, and who I would install as the new ruler of Olympus within a heartbeat.”

“Same,” smiled Annabeth beatifically.

Due to the series of ongoing crises, Diana had been putting off that serious talk she knew she needed to have with the couple. Now though she concluded she needed to make it a greater priority.

“Well,” said Bruce awkwardly. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Hmm,” said Clark, giving it some thought. He might know some people who would consider it. Ma and Lois had certainly helped him get his head on straight and keep it there.

“Definitely things to consider,” acknowledged Victor. Truthfully, if not for the couple calling these sorts of meetings, he had to wonder if all of them would have drifted apart going their separate ways.

Of course, what else could you expect when you had the goddess of strategy involved?

-X\/X\/X-

Atlantis

When Mera was young, before everything went to ruin, Queen Atlanna had taken the young girl for a sea ride amongst the coral forests. Just the two of them. Oh, as royals there were always guards, always people watching, except, as the woman who had all but raised her had quietly pointed out, here and now they had to do so at a distance.

Respecting the privacy of their betters as they engaged in a socially acceptable practice of riding their precious steeds, which provided some rare moments of peace.

Or to do something without anyone being close enough to witness.

So it was a hobby of Mera’s which she had continued for years afterwards. Even when she did not need to calm her mind or needed space, merely so her habits were well established in the minds of others.

For moments like this.

Slipping off her pet orca Toye, she just hung there in the water, pressed closely against him with her arm wrapped around his side, staring off into the vast expanse of the ocean. Seemingly humbled by the vista.

In reality, the way she angled her body meant no one could see the communicator she held cupped within her palm.

[Can’t you just do this in your rooms?] asked Percy in his flawless Atlantean, his garbled voice still conveying confusion through the small air bubble around it to keep the pressure from crushing it. A few pieces of Atlantean technology were attached to help both boost the signal to the surface, and to mask it in turn.

[Surveillance devices are all over from various parties,] she said dismissively. [They know I know they’re there of course. Still, it means that’s not an option.]

[Well that’s messed up,] and even the static did nothing to detract from the heavy flatness there. [So why’re you calling? I thought this was emergencies only.]

[I may have slightly exaggerated,] she confessed.

Unstated between them however was that if she were caught, it would be a death sentence.

Between just herself and Toye, she . . . missed them.

With the death of her unit, and by the bonds forged in battles, the members of the ‘Justice League’ were the closest she had to friends outside of Orm. Of course, despite their betrothal, her relationship with him had grown cold for years.

Speaking of which though . . .

[By the way, ‘Justice League’? I never endorsed that name,] she teased.

[None of us did,] said Percy dryly. [Barry’s denying all involvement a bit too vocally however. How’d you find out?]

[Ah, I see. As for the how, Orm decided it was best to risk monitoring the Surface broadcasts to see if anything further could be learnt.]

Quickly she recounted her official version of events she had shared with Vulko, of her having spied upon a boat watching the fight on a ‘TV.’

[Also,] she continued, [while I don’t get the Mandolorian reference—]

[Mandalorian.]

[Hush, you,] she chided a man descended from the purest bloodline. That word fit poorly on her tongue. [I did appreciate you representing me in a way that both disguises my identity and reflects the warrior I am.]

[With no boob window at that!] he said cheerily.

[That as well, and yes that I particularly appreciated,] she grinned widely. Unfortunately, she currently lacks a valid excuse to get rid of the ‘armour’ Orm had gifted her. [Regrettably, as much as I’m enjoying this talk, there are two matters of importance I need to discuss with you.]

[I’m listening. And recording so the others aren’t relying upon my memory.]

Arching her eyebrow at his self-mockery, she said, [First of all, we need a way to deliver to you more information on Atlantean culture. While clearly you’re more informed than expected,] she hurried on before he could say something, [you and the others need to know more.]

There was a pause, and she could tell he was thinking through what she was not saying.

[You’re expecting trouble from Atlantis,] and the sheer lack of inflection to his voice there sent a shiver through her. The Seven Kingdoms would fare poorly before the wrath of the Son of Poseidon.

[There are tensions,] she allowed, [and having everyone well informed would be beneficial.]

[Okay. We can work something out. The other thing?]

[The current king, Orm, inherited through his mother’s bloodline. Except before her . . . death—]

[Execution,] he harshly interrupted.

[Execution,] she repeated, and pushed enough of her own pain and bitterness in so he did not press the matter further. She waited a beat to see if he would dare say something, and upon being satisfied by his silence she went on. [She had a son with a Surface Dweller. She had fled her arranged marriage with Orvax Marius, and fell in love. When his men found her, she killed them, but knew more would come, so left her family behind and returned so as to keep them safe. It was upon the discovery she had married a Surface Dweller that Orvax ordered her execution. Afterwards, Vulko went to find them, but there was no trace. We’ve no idea what happened to them, including if Orvax found them. I brought this up with Diana, but now I’d like to explicitly ask for you and the others can find her true husband and firstborn.]

[Of course,] he said without hesitation, and a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

[Thank you,] she said softly.

[Hey, that’s what friends do.]

[Yes. Yes they do,] she agreed, hiding as much of her pleased wonder as she could. [We’ll include what we have on them with the other information packs.]

[Sounds good. We can work out some place for you to leave them, and I’ll pick them up? Or maybe you can make it look like it’s a drop-off for some other Atlanteans instead of me?] Because who else could make the pick-up underwater.

Using unwitting Xebel agents who believed they were passing off information to their homeland might indeed work in the future . . . [Right now I’ve reason to go visit the families of my dead squad mates. On the way, it will be simple enough for me to briefly wander off and leave something behind for you to recover,] she said. [But that might work in the future.]

[Sounds good. Give another call when you’re ready. You got much longer to talk?]

Grimacing, she admitted, [I’d best not risk it.]

[Alright. Anything you want me to pass on to the others?]

[Just that I think of them often and dearly,] she said. Especially you.

[Copy that, and we miss you too,] he said cheekily, and she could just imagine the twinkle in his eyes and quickly shut down any further thoughts on the matter.

Without another word she deactivated it, and slipped the device back into her suit.

-X/\X/\X-

Central City

Betty Orson gasped and sobbed as she stared at the knife in her gut.

Over her, the mugger, a kid really, stared at her with wide eyes. “I didn’t—you—you should’ve just given me—I—!”

“It was my mother’s!” she wanted to yell, and maybe it had just been a piece of jewelry she was dying over, but it was all she had left and— 

Nausea rocketed through her, and suddenly bright lights were stabbing through her eyes and were those doctors!?

Seeing the young lady was in good hands as she was wheeled away to emergency on the hospital gurney, Flash turned around to run back to the alleyway. She would live for sure now, and he had a young punk who needed a punch as much as he needed a good talking to. Hopefully he would be willing to set himself straight after this . . .

-X\/X\/X-

The Chase-Jackson/Jackson-Chase household in Georgia was an interesting affair for Victor.

On the surface it was just another mid-sized house on the block. Friendly looking, a well-kept lawn,  not much in the way of a garden, and overall utterly unassuming.

His sensors however could see all the discrete if significant reinforcement to it, escape routes, and plentiful items which would serve as improvised weapons.

Unconcerned, he rang the doorbell, and it was answered by the lady of the house. 

“Oh, thanks,” said Annabeth, accepting the casserole he had brought over. Standing there with her blonde hair in a messy ponytail, jeans, and a loose green blouse, one would never imagine you were really talking to a goddess. His scans could barely detect the invisible sword ever at her side. He doubted she even took it off in bed—which, honestly, Percy might appreciate more. Only Victor would rather get a ‘Nigerian prince’ computer virus than go further down the road of imagining their sex life.

“No trouble getting here?” she asked, while Percy joined them with a companionable nod of greeting.

“Nah, I flew over just outside of town, and then caught a taxi,” said Victor. As the door closed behind him, he deactivated the hologram she had helped him make, revealing his true cybernetic form in all its glory. He was still wearing his hoodie and sweatpants, but the metal face-covering and red eye were now visible for all to see.

It had been surprisingly nice talking with the taxi driver and chatting about the whole alien invasion of Gotham. The man had been going on about wild theories that Batman was really a space vampire protecting his turf, while the Mandalorians were actually some American super-soldiers who were otherwise assigned to the Middle East.

“Oh, good,” she grinned, eyeing the disguise. “So it’s working fine?”

“Like a charm,” he assured her. Honestly, it was a bit weird —-surreal, honestly— seeing his old face in reflections, but he was becoming increasingly comfortable with the real him.

A short while later, they were sitting around the table for lunch.

Food was less of an issue for him now, yet his organic parts still required nutrition, and the delicious smell of Percy’s marinated fish dish had him very intrigued. It was not a familiar recipe, and of course, he could not tell which type of fish, but that was no surprise as cod or halibut all tasted the same to him. Granted, it was not remotely what he was expecting to be served.

Nonetheless, Percy caught Victor’s surprise at the sight, and gave a knowing grin. “People keep asking about me and eating fish. Especially when they talk to me. The truth is, the vast majority aren’t too intelligent for it to be an issue. Mostly they just say, ‘Are you food? Am I food?’, and this is answering the question. I just stay away from the actually intelligent marine life. Manta rays are the only reason I passed physics.”

A chuckle escaped Victor at the sheer absurdity of what was his life now.

Soon, the conversation had drifted to his taxi ride, and the theories about the power couple.

“It’s no surprise,” acknowledged Annabeth. “After all, between us and Mera, we’re the only ones not publicly known. There were hints of Flash before, eyewitnesses to Diana, and of course, all of Gotham knew about Batman. Of course,” and now she shot an exasperated side-eye at her husband, who gave a wicked grin, “it’s not helped by someone fanning the internet flames.”

At that he outright broke out cackling, yet there was no denying the amusement she was poorly trying to conceal.

As for his part? Well, an evil, evil grin was starting to spread over Victor’s face.

“Hey,” he said, “want to have some fun with that together? We could cook up some fake evidence if you want.”  

“Annabeth, I’m leaving you for Victor.”

“Good, that means I can pursue Diana guilt-free,” she riposted without missing a beat.

“I can respect that,” he admitted, and their cyborg friend nodded in sagely agreement.

A pleasant silence descended, before Percy jerked a finger at Victor’s Gotham sports hoody and asked, “So how’re things going back home with you?”

“Surprisingly good,” he admitted. “Surprisingly . . . good.”  

-X/\X/\X-

Gotham City

Gotham City University

“Excuse me! Excuse me!”

The pair of students turned around politely, only for their expressions to harden and body language to turn hostile at the obvious reporter bustling up towards them, with her clearly non-Gothamite accent. She turned up the wattage of her smile a few more notches in hope of disarming them, but they did not seem to notice.

“What?” ground out one of them.

“We’ve got classes to get to,” lied her friend, as if they had not just been walking away from the school.

“I was just wondering if you could tell me what you know about Victor Stone.”

“Never heard of him,” said the liar too quickly.

“Hmm,” dragged out the other one. “Hmmmmmmm. Nope. Same here.”

“There are trophies on display with his name on them,” said the reporter, her polite, encouraging smile getting a little strained.

“I don’t follow sports,” said the bad-liar, wearing their Gotham City Wildcats hoodie.                 

“Look,” the reporter pressed harder, “people have heard rumours about how he’s a member of the Justice League—”

“Never heard of him,” growled a voice in her ear, and she whirled around and then found herself craning her head back in trepidation.

Three hulking bruisers of men in football jerseys loomed over her, their faces passive-aggressively blank. There was nothing she could claim as threatening, even if it was very much what they were doing.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she registered more and more of the campus was stopping to glare at her, and she knew she had no friends here.

Meanwhile, it was clear Victor Stone, officially dead or not, regardless of the rumours about who had led the men and women of Gotham from the frontlines, still had plenty of friends here. Moreover, they were watching out for one of their own.

“The people have a . . . right to know,” she trailed off quietly.

“Ma’am,” said the centre football player, “Nobody here has what you want. Feel free to keep asking around, but I figure you’ve got better uses of your time.”

With that he whirled around and marched off, with his buddies right behind.

Gulping, and feeling the heavy, oppressive looks from everyone around her, she decided to make her way back to her car.

When she got to it, the rental had been given a “Gotham Welcome.” As in it had been stripped of everything from the tires to the engine, and mocking graffiti about leaving a car out like that in this city.

-X\/X\/X-

Atlanta, Georgia

Days later

“This is nice,” said Clark Kent approvingly as he took another sip of his specialty coffee.

“So are the pastries,” agreed Lois Lane, nibbling on one. She was no alien, god, or demi-god, so she could not have as many as she wished to. While running around the city exposing corruption, showing the sides of society people overlooked, and other journalism escapades really helped her get her steps in, there was still a limit to how many calories it could burn off with her schedule.

Well, in this particular case, she would not have to worry overmuch about future temptation, as it would be hard to justify regularly travelling cross-country via Clark Airlines just for treats.

All four of them were relaxing in the cozy café, the two couples just hanging out, getting to know one another, and enjoying a vastly less stressful time than their first meeting—an incident none of them were acknowledging ever occurred. 

“A co-worker recommended it,” admitted Annabeth. “Well, more specifically, they offered it as an alibi for us for where we were during a certain event, and we decided we should try it out.”

As shocked as she was at the reveal, Lois resisted the instinct to glance around them for eavesdroppers like a guilty person. From long experience, she knew it was too noisy for that; and Clark had his own senses trained like a hawk for anyone or anything suspicious. Particularly now as she could feel him tense up from where she was resting against him.

“Glad we did,” said Percy, taking a big bite out of a homemade doughnut. “This place is the best.”

“Your co-workers know who you are?” said Lois.

 “Not everyone can disguise themselves by putting on a pair of glasses,” deadpanned Annabeth, which made Lois snort.

“It’s not just that,” said Clark a little petulantly.

“It really isn’t,” agreed Lois, feeling the need now to defend him. “The body language, reigning in that sense of presence, and other stuff.” Her fiancé was an excellent actor after all.

A tragically necessary trait for him to learn.

“And nobody expects Superman to be going about as a mild-mannered reporter,” said Percy with a knowing if not malicious poke, picking up his hot chocolate for another sip.

“Admittedly, I’m more thankful to the ‘bumbling, country boy’ stereotype than I ever wanted to be. But couldn’t you just use the Mist though?” asked Clark.

“The illusion thing, right?” clarified Lois, bumping her elbow against her fiancé  for the reminder at how she had fallen for that trick of his too.

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Annabeth. “And Percy sucks at it.”

The demigod, living legend in two worlds, Titan’s Bane, outright pouted as he slurped his drink loudly at this point.

“It’s also less . . . automatic, in this world,” continued Annabeth. “Back home, it would happen without our input, although we could influence what was shown, or actively use it. It was instinctive. Now, it’s just the last ability, and if we don’t know that we need to consciously use it at the moment . . .” She shrugged to convey that there was not much else they could do.

“I see,” said Lois, and she felt she did.

“So instead, you and Vic have fun posting fake evidence and theories about you online,” said Clark, raising an amused eyebrow, and Lois could not help her own snicker at some of the things going on the internet there.

“It’s good bonding,” said Percy brightly, clearly enjoying their reactions; particularly his wife’s rolled eyes. “As well as a good way to keep the government off our backs.”

“Uh-huh,” nodded Clark. “That was some impressive CGI there, making it seem like you were really Tom Cruise, who is secretly a government super-agent with the films being both a hobby and a way to get rich on real-life missions.”

“Or the Mandalorian Illuminati meeting the President at the White House to prepare for the oncoming Sith Invasion,” added Lois.

“We made sure there were little signs it was faked so nobody thought that one was actually real,” noted Percy. “Concerning as deep fakes are, I can’t deny their existence has been useful.”

“The Spirit of Gotham’s child, created to defend her, like Batman is?”

“Alfred said he had a chuckle at that,” defended Annabeth. “Although that may have been more because of how it showed us being born from shadow and all, and him knowing how Bruce really got into this.”

“Don’t tempt me with interviews I’ll never get,” said Lois.

“How did you two get into journalism?” asked Percy.

“Well,” said Lois brightly, “it all started—”

-X/\X/\X-

Gotham City

Mayor Bella Reál took one look at the dark figure waiting for her in her private home office, and groaned loudly, uncaring if The-Actual-Batman took offense.

Commissioner Gordon had warned her about this.

A part of her wanted to insist that Batman go away and not come back without an appointment. Stand firm and show that she was not intimidated, and try —try likely being the operational word— to establish authority over the vigilante turned national hero. Or something. It was honestly very murky and unclear, but the Justice League were public heroes, and they said he was a member.

Except right now she was too tired, on too little coffee, and honestly did not want to raise a fuss that would delay her working through the latest proposals for their educational reforms. Or the update about the new sports stadium—those aliens had been lucky that almost nobody had known they had wrecked watching football for the next few months, or they would have suffered.

“Batman,” she managed. “Pleasure to meet you. I think.”

“I thought you’d want to be briefed about the Court of Owls,” said instead of a greeting like a normal person with proper manners.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut at the confirmation of what she had been dreading. Yes, all of the leaders of the ultra-rich, white-folk murder cult had been arrested, but she had known it was not entirely over with.

Seriously, while it might not be entirely accurate, it seemed like Bruce Wayne was the only member of the old, white man money not arrested for being a freak dressing up for violent roleplay. It gave her a whole new appreciation for his playboy days, as that had probably made them dismiss him as a recruit, followed by him becoming a serious businessman after the tragic death of his ward.

Unfortunately for her, this was what she had been anticipating, and she was a responsible woman who could not just pretend this was unimportant. So she sucked in a deep breath, released it, repeated the process, and then marched to take her seat behind her desk. 

“Fine. But please don’t make it run over too long. I do need my sleep tonight, and I’ve an important meeting tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Batman said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin Dr. Thompkins or Wayne’s presentation on how they can reduce child street crime or prostitution out of Crime Alley.”

Narrowing her eyes briefly at him, Bella decided to ignore showing he knew her itinerary.

“Fine,” she repeated, albeit with more grit. “So. Zombie owl ninjas, and creepy rich people cults. Do you know which senators they were paying off?”

“Yes—” he began.

-X\/X\/X-

Atlanta, Georgia

Jackson-Chase/Chase-Jackson Household

“Do you get enough to eat on your own?” asked Percy concernedly.

Barry paused mid-bite, and processed the small mountain of used rib bones piled up in front of him with dismay. Meanwhile, Percy and Annabeth had only managed to start one apiece from the still large platter set out on the table between them.

Between one eye-blink and the next, scenarios started flashing before his eyes on how this must look to them. How freakish—

With a mental jolt, he shook off those negative thoughts, and knew better.

Flickering his gaze to Annabeth, he knew her own enhanced brain and senses had caught all that. Blessedly, she said nothing beyond the knowing, approving glint to her eyes and a nod so slight he might have otherwise believed he imagined it.

“Uh, yes, mostly,” Barry answered at ‘normal speed’ to the other man.

“Mostly,” repeated Percy with the sort of look which made Barry very much believe this was someone who had been responsible for wrangling a bunch of kids younger than him.

Kids with access and encouragement to run around with knives and superpowers at that.

Scary thought there, really. Clearly these two were braver than he was.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” assured Barry. “I used to have to do a few jobs to get enough food to get by, but it’s been better now. It’s more because I’m not used to having so much available at once in one sitting.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” acknowledged Percy. “Sorry if I was being pushy.”

While he shrugged to try and make it seem casual, Barry admitted, “It’s nice to have people caring.”

Various emotions flashed across their faces, except he turned his attention back to his food, eating it at a slower pace this time, so he could not see them.

“Do we need Bruce to investigate any of your foster families?” asked Annabeth, and he felt the hairs on his arms stand to attention at how emotionless she sounded, even as that level of protectiveness made him feel warm inside.

“No! No,” he hastily said before the Dark Knight went about crashing through windows to break people’s legs.

Even if the thought of Bruce doing something like that too also made Barry feel more mushy and gushy inside.

“They didn’t do anything wrong, I just,” he paused as years of unwanted memories flickered through his mind. Particularly denials to go visit his dad in prison. Trying to ‘explain’ and ‘convince’ him what had ‘really’ happened to his mom. “We just aren’t close. They did nothing wrong.”

“I see,” nodded Annabeth. Changing the subject, she said, “So that means your new job is going well?”

“Sure is!” he said brightly. “I mean, I’m still the newbie so I’m still learning the ropes, and get stuck with a bunch of grunt work, and there’s questions about me getting Bruce Wayne of all people as a reference, but it pays better, and I’m having fun, and making a good impression!” Pausing as he remembered to breathe, he went on, “Now I can help people in an out of costumes way, so I’m proud of what I’m doing, and you can bet I’ll be a top forensic scientist before you know it.”

“We know you will,” agreed Percy.

“I told Bruce that he was being too obvious,” muttered Annabeth, crossing her arms in mild irritation. “How he’s kept his identity secret so long amazes me. The moment people stop thinking of him as a reformed playboy . . .” she trailed off meaningfully.

“Well,” coughed Barry a little awkwardly, “they’re more asking me about gossip. And assuming it’s more the equivalent of hush money about him and the latest scandal. That I somehow saw something or other about you guys—” once more he was grateful for his super-speed making it possible for him to choose more tactful words, instead of shoving his runners in his mouth “—dating him. Never mind that we live in Ohio and you’re from Georgia, so no way we could’ve met. Without powers I mean.”

And that was not at all his attempt at subtly finding out if the couple were into open relationships. Even if they were super-sexy, intelligent, supportive and nurturing—No! Bad brain!

Barry also knew better than to mention that he had overheard some people whispering speculation that he was a former or current sugar baby of Bruce. No way was he going down that route! Even if they weren’t as sad as the office rumors that he was an illegitimate child. 

Do not get him wrong, Bruce was a handsome-ish guy. Just, like, twenty years ago.

Unfortunately for him, it appeared they were stuck on this topic, as Percy snorted, “Yeah, it’s about the same for us. Nobody’s quite wondering why Bruce just suddenly showed up in person asking for Annabeth to work for him, and me getting roped in. They just want the juicy deets. Except for Annabeth’s people, but that’s because they’re awesome.”

“They also want plausible deniability,” said Annabeth with dry amusement. “I’m still planning how I want to do their ‘thank you’ bonus.”

“Private resort?” offered Barry, seeing a plausible escape. “As a paid vacation? You must be making money over fist now, so they’ll believe it.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “But this isn’t a good time of the year as school’s still in full swing.”

“Well, what if you—”

-X/\X/\X-

Pierre, South Dakota

Comfortably wearing his hologram, Cyborg would admit his grin was fairly smug.

Practically ‘cat got the cream’ really if you wanted to be fancy about it.

As part of wanting to live his life again, Victor had decided to travel around a bit, see some more of the country.

Of course, along the way, Cyborg kept an eye out for any crimes happening. Which, especially when you were tapped directly into everything digital, even when there was supposed to be no external access, was a lot.

So he could do his good deeds for the day helping people out just strolling down the street. Like that fancy looking bank he had just passed by. In a few steps he had scrolled through their secure accounts and determined they were practically a loan shark business for smaller businesses, tying up in red tape the bank accounts of dead people so they got to keep the money and siphon it up, driving people to bankruptcy to buy up their property later, and making away with individually small yet altogether larger sums from various accounts for themselves. 

Honestly, it was like they had a bingo card for how to be a corrupt bank they were trying to fill out. It was almost sad. 

Although not as sad as they were about to be . . . 

Before he had finished crossing in front of their building, all of the stolen money had been returned to the proper owners, deeds had been corrected and returned, and debts closed. It was not perfect of course, yet those who he could not properly compensate were having their situations notified to the authorities. Multiple authorities. The bank itself would manage thanks to insurance covering any loss. Meanwhile, those employees responsible for this would be finding themselves exposed, as well as being charged for robbing their employers—the rich men and women who financed this bank to make a profit. Employers who in turn would be needing to explain to the IRS and FBI their grand tax evasion, embezzlement, and a host of less savoury crimes.

Humming a popular pop song to himself, Victor started thinking about what to eat.

-X\/X\/X-

Atlanta, Georgia

Jackson-Chase/Chase-Jackson Household

While she took no offense at it, Diana knew she was the last one of their group besides Mera to really hang out with the demigod couple.

Which was perfectly understandable given the sort of mistaken assumptions that had laid between them beforehand.

So when they had tentatively reached out to her via texts for a more personal gathering, she had carefully worded her replies to be sure not to scare them off.

Regardless of her status as a curator for the Department of Antiquities for the Louvre Museum, there were only so many vacation days she could write off for herself on top of her regular ‘superhero’ responsibilities. Moreover, if Bruce kept intervening, people would start asking the wrong sort of questions. Especially since, as amusing as it might sound, she doubted she could truly fake being in a foursome with the man.

That said, Diana had been in this game for decades, and was adept at inventing plausible excuses. As far as her museum superiors believed, in response to the recent alien invasion, she was making visits to various individuals she knew kept certain artifacts in personal collections. Many priceless pieces had been owned by Gotham’s elite, and were subsequently destroyed, or gone missing through opportunistic looters. Meanwhile, the Gotham Museum of Art had gone untouched. So on the Louvre’s dime she was in North America to convince her acquaintances to loan their irreplaceable possessions to museums where their pieces of Human history would be theoretically safer.

In several cases she had been legitimately successful, with the artifacts safely secured for transport. Even in the cases she had failed, she had still managed to wheedle out donations to fund improvements to the Louvre’s security in case the next invasion did hit Paris.

So amidst her trip across America, she had stopped here in Atlanta, Georgia, and was enjoying a comfortable dinner with the duo.

Originally she had suggested reserving a quiet room for them to dine at her hotel, providing neutral territory. Instead, to her pleasant surprise, they had insisted upon having her over, showing their newfound faith in her.

Which was how the princess and goddess of the Amazons found herself sipping a cup of wine while resting upon their couch.

For her part, Annabeth was abusing her new metabolism with a big mug of whiskey. It was near impossible for her to get drunk off of it, much less risk it killing off brain cells, and apparently she liked the taste a lot.

As for Percy, he was enjoying a blue soft drink of some kind, and she suspected it was his powers which kept it from spilling amidst his wild gestures. “—affordable shipping prices!” he cracked up.

“Indeed very different from my own sister Amazons,” said Diana, and she could not keep herself from laughing as well. The very notion of her mother and the others running a multinational technological, commercial, and shipping company like that was too absurd!

In an entertaining way of course. As opposed to her need to not do a spit-take at learning Ares was the patron god of their Amazons, and Hippolyta his daughter . . . Granted, those tidbits did wonders to help highlight the differences between their universes.

“Not that we visit often, or use their services either,” admitted Annabeth. “They are still planning global conquest after all. Eventually. Also they keep trying to lure Percy in. Thankfully,” and there was a cheeky twinkle to her eyes, “he’s only interested in one woman dominating him.”

“Y’know it! Although I’m thankful they’ve progressed to wanting men who want to be submissive slaves,” said Percy, and the ease at which he spoke appeared genuine. “Although it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re planning to use their company to encourage that sort of . . . attraction.”

“Maybe,” shrugged Annabeth. “I’m not sure if they’ve thought it out that subtly yet.”

“It still sounds amazing and impressive what they’ve accomplished though,” said Diana. “I assume you double-checked it was not the same here.” Seeing their nods, she gave a small one of her own. “Although I admit, I’m not sure how I’d have reacted to them going full capitalist. Or the likes of Menalippe or Acantha being in customer service.” That got a round of chuckles out of them. They did not need to know those women to picture them preferring to take a sword to obnoxious customers rather than suffer another second of their presence.

“Although I do admit,” she confessed, “a secret conspiracy or not, I do wish my sisters had chosen to remain engaged with Man’s World still. While it’s a shame your Amazons have to do so in secret, and for understandable reasons, it’s still good that they’re there.”

“. . . Is that why you left?” Annabeth delicately asked.
 “It . . . was complicated,” said Diana. Going into the everything revolving around Steve was not something she was ready for right about now. Honestly, she had never really talked about it to anyone. Still, she did owe telling them what she could, especially after all their own personal reveals. “And a long story. I’ll tell you another time,” she promised.

“The short version though, is that long ago my mother and sisters tried to make the world a better place, but failed, and could no longer bear the price of it. They raised me with the belief that Man had to live with its flaws, that they did not deserve us, and that ultimately it was better this way. For so long I accepted this.

“Then one day a man landed on our island, and told me that when you see bad things in the world you can either do nothing, or do something, and he'd already tried nothing. At the time, I was acting entirely on idealism, with no notion of what the reality was like, assuming too much, but still determined to make the world better than I had found it. What I came to accept later though, what was truly naïve about my actions was the assumption that I could change the entire world on my own. The Amazons had made the same mistake.”

“That it was too big for you?” asked Percy, clearly trying to puzzle it out.

“That we as individuals could fully undo the actions of other individuals,” said Diana ruefully. “That for good or ill, we all make our own choices which also changes things; including all the various Men. So simple, yet so readily overlooked. A bittersweet lesson for me. Ultimately though, I chose to fight and act on behalf of the good I saw, the love I had seen and felt, and strove to keep doing what I could to help the world.”

Looking away, she stared out the window briefly at the memories surging over her before turning back to them. “For decades I did so more . . . quietly, than was my nature. Smaller deeds in the shadows. Kind words, aid where I could, reminding people of other ways to do things, the strength of mercy and gentleness.” Taking a sip of wine, she dryly admitted, “And acts of extreme violence where I had plausible deniability. Plus a few instances where I was lucky no cameras were watching. Now though, I appear freer to act as I want and must.”

“But you can’t go home to your people again?” said Annabeth softly. “That was the price, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Diana, and she felt safe with them to let all her emotions pour out in that word. Her soul-wrenching grief at losing those she loved so dearly. As well as the acceptance of this price so she could walk amongst the rest of the people of this world, and all their wonders. Looking back on her actions, if she had the chance to stand before her mother to decide her fate all over again, knowing what she knew now, despite the cost, despite the loss . . .

. . . She would still board that boat again without hesitation.

Well, barring a few more last words to her mom. She was honest enough to admit to that.

“We get that,” said Percy, and there was a turmoil within his words and eyes as well. One she knew matched her own.

Of course this couple understood her plight. How could they not?

Diana considered herself old and wise enough to recognise two fellow, lonely souls.

Reading between the lines, since coming here they had felt nearly entirely isolated outside of their coworkers, and never could they have dared to let down the barriers enough to show the ‘real’ Annabeth and Percy.

Now though?

Now that they had found people they could be open and honest with, they had thrown themselves into being as sociable as possible with the Justice League, and doing what they could to connect everyone together. Despite their claims of being more part-time members. After all, by whatever hand the Fates had dealt them, all of them were a collection of outcasts really. Except these two were used to much grander family . . .

Even if apparently not all of them had appreciated them as they should have.

That dark reminder made her take a drink to help hide her inner thoughts. If she should ever find herself in Annabeth’s world, well, Diana might indeed pull an Ares on a few of the gods . . .

What little the couple had said was enough, and there was much in what they did not say. The fears of her they had expressed simply because she was a goddess . . .

“If I may ask, how did you end up here?”

She kept herself from reacting as Annabeth whipped her glass around to shatter it against a wall into fine powder. 

Briefly guilt and regret flashed over the young god’s eyes before being drowned out by tears of fury. “We. Don’t. Know,” she hissed. 

“Easy there, Wise Girl,” said Percy softly, coming over lean against her side. From his knotted brow however, it was clear that he would not mind doing the same. “Breathe it all out. I’m the rash one, remember? Being angry is good, it’s natural.” 

“Just don’t let it control your actions,” she muttered. “I miss being able to spar against you to help vent.” 

“Same. Wouldn’t be fun if you were just holding back.” 

Giving them a moment to compose themselves after she had stepped on an emotional landmine, Diana glanced curiously at the wall. A faint scratch in the paint glinted with metal, and it seemed even while upset Annabeth maintained the composure to hit a hidden part of the house defenses which could take the damage. 

A deep, indrawn breath brought her focus back upon a much more composed Annabeth, who said,  “We just woke up together in the streets of New York, with no idea how we’d gotten there, and came to realise no one we knew was here!”

“Didn’t even know the gods existed until we stumbled onto you,” added Percy. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for how that went,” Diana said at the exact same time.

Releasing a small huff of amusement, Annabeth nodded and went “Same. And thank you.” 

“It’s all in the past,” said Diana warmly.

“Anyways, after a bit we . . . accepted this,” and there was a heaviness to Percy’s voice while he stared at his drink. There was a twitch to his wife’s face which hinted at an aborted wince, while shooting Diana a quick glance.

Yes, Diana remembered their first encounter rather vividly, and at the time the couple had clearly still been struggling to process their new circumstances. She had privately referred to their behaviour at the time as ‘feral’ for a reason, and it had done little to dissuade her of the potential threat they could pose if they wanted to.

“As I said, it’s all in the past.” 

After a few long moments, Percy blinked and broke himself away from whatever he had been seeing, and processed her words. “Right. Yes.” He distracted himself for a moment by getting up to snag a fresh glass for Annabeth, which she gratefully accepted, pouring herself more whiskey. An act which had Diana give her a piercing appraisal before conceding the alcohol was not having a chance to influence her simmering temper. 

“Eventually,” continued Percy, “we chose to settle down. Have a peaceful life at last. Of course we had to move after we bumped into the Atlanteans as well, but we could’ve still done it.”

Tactfully Diana did not comment on the past tense there. This was not the time and place to raise how despite what the couple had vowed at the start of meeting up after Steppenwolf’s arrival, they were very much not going back into retirement.

Contrary to their protests, deep down everyone knew they were full members of the Justice League now, and would not have it any other way.

“You deserve it,” said Diana. “And I promise I and the others will always be there for you.”

“Thank you,” said Annabeth with a brief smile.

“Same here,” said Percy.

“But what about now?,” she carefully said. “You know from Steppenwolf that multiversal travel is possible.”

“Yes, only we’ve no idea where to start. Or how to track down our original world,” said Annabeth sadly, face scrunched up in a trace of agitation. Clearly she had put her divine-intellect to this at least once. “Who knows how long it could take? You said from your story that this Darkseid somehow lost track of Earth despite it having some secret he had been hunting for, so clearly it’s a complicated process in some way.”

“Ah, yes,” said Diana, grimacing as she mentally chastised herself for not making that connection.

“Speaking of home though,” said Percy thoughtfully, “who’s to say someone else can’t visit the Amazons for you?”

That brought Diana’s thoughts to a screeching halt.

“I mean,” he continued, “you’re banned, but why can’t someone else, say Annabeth, show up there? Yeah, maybe they’d be all violent and suspicious, but she can talk them down readily enough, right?”

“I . . .” Diana’s brain rebooted as she slowly nodded. “Yes. Maybe. You’re good at reading the room and people.”

Unexpectedly, Annabeth grimaced before throwing back the cup of whiskey, and then poured herself another half bottle. “I’d . . . rather not,” she hesitantly confessed. “Remember when Superman showed up to win the fight and I knew exactly what to say? I did it in the heat of the moment, and honestly only about half of that was genuine empathy. The rest was me calculating the best way to keep him focused on the battle and saving people, without compromising him psychologically in the future. I can do it, but I really dislike, hate, doing that sort of ruthless calculation. Maybe it was justified or not, but I wasn’t really aware of what I was doing at the time, as it was when I was newly ascended. Except if I found myself facing all the Amazons pointing their swords and other weaponry at me, I’d probably find myself doing it again, and they deserve better. You deserve better.”

Nodding slowly, face a neutral mask, Diana said, “Thank you for your honesty. Still, Percy’s suggestion does open opportunities for us, and I’d like to discuss them more in the future.”

For now though, this was the perfect segue into a conversation she had been wanting to have with them for a while.

Before she could, however, Percy spoke up, and with seeming-glibness said, “So you must’ve had some pretty crazy adventures of your own over the years. Any particularly good ones?”

She had a strong suspicion he knew exactly what she had wanted to ask, and was trying to distract her from it. As much as he liked to act like an empty-headed jock for anything unrelated to marine life or the ocean in general, blindly following the directions of his much-smarter wife, it paid to remember he was no fool. Regardless of whatever powers you were born with, dumb demigods did not live long enough to become legends.

However, it was a reasonable question to ask. On top of that, while she was unprepared to talk about Steve and her first trip into Man’s World, Diana could not deny her eagerness in turn to be able to actually share her stories. Especially with people who would get them, and ensure that her loved ones from those tales would be remembered by more than just her; living on beyond their physical death and Elysium.

Yes, Percy knew exactly what to ask of her.

“Well,” she smiled, “there was a particular incident which stood out in my life in 1984 . . .”

-X/\X/\X-

Somewhere in the Indian Ocean

Underwater

Jesse Kane took his time stirring in his cream and sugar. For all the rewards, the life of a mercenary leader was not an easy one, and he insisted on only the best coffee while he went over their finances.

Satisfied, he went to take a seat at his desk, and started planning how precisely he was going to use the results of their latest take when they had hijacked that billionaire’s private submarine. An Indonesian man from old money, little sense, and easy to convince to hand over his banking passwords. It had only taken three punches! Well, that and seeing his butchered bodyguard.

Unfortunately, running their own submarine, and keeping ahead of the US Navy who wanted the stealth sub they had originally paid for, cost a lot in turn.

Taking a long sip, he started planning where they would be getting refueled next, when the whole sub shook.

He paused, as he had never felt his baby rock like that before.

Concerned, he made his way onto the bridge, just in time to catch his crew gasping in shock at whatever was on their screens, while his son David was stiff as a board as he looked through the periscope.

Wordlessly his second-in-command stepped back to let Jesse take a look.

Floating right in front of them was a massive, alien-like submarine of some kind. Bigger than anything he had ever seen before, with lots of glowing lights. 

Just sitting there.

“Well,” he said, proud of how even he kept his voice. As captain, it was his job to make it seem everything was perfectly under control. “It seems we’ve got some unexpected customers who want to talk to us.”

The future was promising to be very interesting indeed. All he had to do was keep them alive through whatever happened next.

And frankly this beat doing the bookkeeping.

-X\/X\/X-

Atlanta, Georgia

Jackson-Chase/Chase-Jackson Household

“Oh, wow. Really!?” said Percy, eyes practically bugging out.

“That all happened!?” gaped Annabeth, having been too enraptured by the story until this point.

“Unfortunately, yes,” agreed Diana. “It was one of the biggest, closing moments of the Cold War.”

“And no one knows about it!?” she demanded. “How!?”

“Many still do,” allowed Diana, and 1984 was not that long ago really, “but no one really wanted to make it public. It was too big, too likely to cause a panic, and too much of an embarrassment. Given how it ended, those in the know were satisfied it was all resolved without digging any deeper.”

“I guess that makes sense,” admitted Annabeth.

“I’ll say,” said Percy, shaking his head in disbelief.

A heavy silence fell as the trio further contemplated the story, and so Percy said, “I’ve gotta admit, that all sounds like something out of a James Bond or Mission Impossible film, only to suddenly swerve sci-fi with the first mutant, and supernatural with a goddess of the ancient world.”

“I’ve wondered at times if the SPECTRE-like approach was more than a coincidence,” conceded Diana with a twist of her lip. “Was it all inspired by him watching Dr. No?”

“Uh huh,” said Annabeth. “Still, the world’s first telepath—”

“Probably,” noted Diana.

“Probably the world’s first telepath,” corrected Annabeth patiently, “making a play for global conquest by subverting intelligence agents from both sides of the Cold War, and making it seem like some sort of unified syndicate, while he was managing things from the shadows.”

“Pretending to just be a manager guy for their base the whole time. Kinda weird that,” said Percy, scratching his head.

“Consider your example with your Amazons and how they hide who they are. That being said, it’d make more sense if you’d actually met Maxwell Lord,” said Diana. “His ability to lead was entirely from his powers. He didn’t have the sort of charm to justify why he was in charge, and he needed multiple meetings to twist people’s minds around to fit his own. So he went with the same logic of how no one pays attention to the hired staff. All of the spies, military leaders, and power players just dismissed him as a two-bit bureaucrat necessary to keep the lights on. Meanwhile, being in charge of their basic logistics was a job he could actually still do, all the while it gave him ample, seemingly innocent reasons to meet up with their new recruits, and slowly influence them until they were fully under this thrall. Or visit when they were captive to supposedly convince them to turn their beliefs around. I was merely fortunate that I was immune.”

Another silence fell, only this one carried a heavy sense of mourning. Even Percy and Annabeth could not help but grieve for the men and women, for the heroes, whose stories Diana had painted for them.

“We are sorry about your friends,” Annabeth hastened to add. “Especially for . . .”

“I take peace in the knowledge he died as himself, and knowing he’d saved the world,” said Diana with a balance of sorrow and acceptance. A feat it had taken her painful years to achieve in order to move beyond that old bitterness and grief. In some ways it had been worse than losing Steve, as she had known him for only a few days in comparison to seeing a child grow into a noble man. Full of wit, kindness, and patience for his ‘eccentric great aunt.’

“Losing him was more than just losing Etta’s grandson,” the confession escaping her against her will. “And more than just my last physical link to my old friends, but he lived a good life, and saved many lives. Including my own.”

“He’s in Elysium now,” said Percy, and she nodded. Confirming his presence there had been a task she had set to herself.

“Although,” and after this conversation the topic was all the more important, “that’s the problem with being a god at times,” looking up, she leveled her gaze at Annabeth’s own uncomfortable one, “isn’t it?”

“. . . We’re doing this now?” said Percy a tad sourly.

“Can you imagine a better time?” countered Diana.

“It’s . . . not really relevant,” said Annabeth, grabbing for more whiskey. If she were a demigod child of even Dionysus, Diana would have been greatly concerned for her liver by now. “Besides, it’s only temporary.”

“‘Temporary’?” she repeated as neutrally as possible, and given those looks she received, she figured they were irritated at being unable to tell what exactly she was thinking. What she had been thinking about for weeks really.

“Yes,” said Annabeth with a firm nod. “Remember, I only managed this thanks to touching a Symbol of Power I had a connection to.” In emphasis, the Sword of Athena briefly flashed into view. “While her domain was empty with no one laying claim to it. So it’s different from your situation. It wasn’t a case of me being like Mr. D who did it himself, or that lion-skirt blowhard who was made into one.”

Annabeth gave a shrug of her shoulders, yet there was no hiding from Diana the tension to them. “Besides, like I’ve said before, this isn’t like our world where Western Civilisation would crumble and die along with the gods, which might include North America, Eurasia, and who knows where else literally collapsing into dust. Here, things have survived and gone on without the gods for thousands of years. I’m not needed as a goddess here.”

“Nor do you want to be a goddess,” said Diana as non-judgmentally as possible. “The very notion repels you both.”

“Yes.”/“Yes.”

Delivered with complete and utter lack of hesitation.

Despite herself, Diana could not help the amused eyebrow and smirk at the display, which made their well-practiced, casual expressions shift to something more deadpan.

“I’m not surprised, if a little disappointed for personal reasons,” she disclosed, and neither blinked at the admission. “Although I’d like a chance to better understand why. Especially since I can easily imagine you two doing better than the Olympians you’re familiar with. Maybe being ‘gods’ doesn’t mean much in this modern age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use those powers to help people more. Less of divine beings of worship, and just uniquely superhuman figures.”

Much like I’m doing. What everyone else is doing already as part of the League, went unspoken. Particularly, All without aging, or dying as easily.

Obviously the odds were against her for successfully convincing them to embrace divinity. Their own trauma aside, given the stakes involved, she was confident Annabeth had turned her own super-intelligence to create arguments in favour of her decision.

Still, it was not something Diana could just drop without trying. Despite everything, she remained hopeful in what would be her one last attempt at convincing them otherwise.

The Amazon was honest enough with herself to admit that the prospect of there being two other immortals —because there was no feasible way Annabeth would remotely consider living forever without her husband— with her throughout the ages was . . . deeply appealing.

As much as Diana lived her life in the present as much as possible, she was not blind to the fact that otherwise, down the road, they would be two more funerals she would have to attend. Two more wonderful people she would dearly miss.

“What do you mean?” asked Percy, and she could tell he was deliberately being difficult there.

“Well for starters,” Diana said to him, “is it possible for you to become a god? Like if you found Poseidon’s Trident, still serving as his Symbol of Power?”

“I wouldn’t know unless I tried,” he said, blatantly avoiding the real heart of the question. “What about you? Planning to take up Zeus’ throne? Or claim his titles?”

Wincing, Diana leaned back, and gave a silent toast in acknowledgment of his parry and hit.

“I haven’t planned on it,” she said. “I haven’t even decided what I’m the goddess of. There . . . was no point when it was only me. I could be whatever I wanted, without that sort of commitment.”

Moreover, if she chose to do that, making herself the very embodiment of a concept of the world and/or humanity, then that would change her. Change the very nature of who Diana was.

Love, Compassion, and Justice were all parts of her, yes, but being a warrior and enjoying a good fight was as core to her very being as relaxing with a meal, or meticulously fixing up and preserving historical artifacts. If she took that irreversible step, how much of herself would she risk losing?

Besides, as Annabeth had said, there was no pressing need for her, or either of them, to do so.

“And I’ve no interest in being queen of anybody,” she added as an afterthought. “So I admit, if you did become a god, Percy, while I imagine you’d be the god of seas and oceans or something, I’m not sure if I’d want to choose anything still. Although if it wasn’t a surprise for you, maybe that wouldn’t be a problem? Choosing who you want to be?”

 After all, surely at some point any demigod would at least wonder what they would want to be a god of? Or would he be like her, and want to be free of such obligation?

Privately she was betting he would choose something that sounded ridiculous to anyone but these two, who would find it both fitting and a hilarious in-joke. Of course she doubted she would get any takers in the League given some of the stories they had already dropped. 

Nevertheless, Diana sincerely doubted that was the deciding factor for them. Surely Annabeth could separate herself from her inherited domains with some time and effort.

Surprisingly however, instead of answering, or a snarky deflection from Percy, the couple shared a long look before Percy sighed, and put down his drink. Patiently Diana waited as he rubbed his face, letting him gather his thoughts before he sat forward, hands clasped together. “The thing is . . . This is not the first time we’ve been confronted with this issue. After the first war, well . . .”

“Our Zeus offered to make Percy a god,” said Annabeth bluntly, putting her own cup down.

Giving two slow blinks, Diana processed this. Overall though, it did make a lot of sense given his feats. Moreover, after such a perceived insult, Zeus would not have offered it again despite their later, arguably greater feats, for fear of further refusal. His pride would not be able to tolerate it. “I see,” she finally said, giving a sharp nod to prompt them to continue.

“Most of the people at the time,” said Annabeth dutifully, “assumed that Percy refused because of me. That he didn’t want to leave me behind. Some also thought it was because of those who had passed on in the war, and wanting to see them again. Plus all those who believe it was purely self-sacrifice on his part to make a better life for demigods. In terms of the first two, they forget how he could have done those as a god as well. Certainly he could have made me a goddess as well. The truth of the matter is that there were two reasons, and that last theory was one of them.”

“The gods were cruel to demigods,” said Diana bluntly, stating what she already knew. “Either directly, or through neglect. Perhaps some cared, in the brief, temporary way gods can care for mortals, but you said yourselves that too many of them were, and I quote: ‘too ruled by their whims, too proud to admit when they are wrong, and uncaring for even their own children. Blinded by self-importance.’ Unquote.

“All despite the fact that without the demigods, the gods would have been nothing.”

She was inferring on that last part, as the gods had generally been less dependent upon the demigods in her world. Except given how it had taken teenagers to stop the Crooked One or the Mother Earth, well, she could draw her own conclusions from that.

“Yes,” said Annabeth, rolling back her sleeves to examine the scars on her arms. ‘Souvenirs’ from her mortal life she had deliberately kept in her ascension. “Although perhaps they were so distant and even cruel as a way of keeping themselves from admitting it.”

“Especially amongst themselves,” added Percy bitterly.

Bitterness which was entirely valid given the burdens placed upon them at too young an age. Especially with all the cost, and seemingly no sign of reward or thanks for everything they had done for Olympus.

“Including your parents,” she said softly.

“They protected and helped us,” said Percy, and there was an edge to his otherwise even tone which told her how artificial it was. “Except it could be rather hard to tell at times how much it was because they cared for us, or because having us alive and completing quests gave them status and glory. Like we were tokens in their games. My own dad, he loves me, but in his own, distant way. He’d wash away a school in a tidal wave and kill everyone inside if he thought it wasn’t up to snuff, while never stopping to think maybe I’d like to just hang out with him. Or how the first time we met, it was because he needed me to do something for him. He loves me, I love him, it’s just we’re not close, and he’s got other things on his mind.”

He was fiddling with his beaded necklace at this point in what Diana recognised as a way to deal with his anxiety.

“I . . . when we got here, and started our new therapy, it helped put things further into perspective. Back home, it wasn’t safe to be angry at the gods. Especially after all the demigods who fought against them in the Second Titan War. Here? Here we can be. Except, honestly? There’s not much point. Almost. It’s just . . . They’re so alien, that there’s no real malice behind it. Usually. I mean, they’re the most messed-up people I’ve ever met. And all this time, they still don’t understand mortals! It’s like getting upset with a cat for knocking over a vase; it’s just what they do!”

He stopped to take a deep breath, realising he had been ranting. Another.

“But?” said Annabeth quietly once he had calmed down.

“But,” repeated Percy, exhaling a sigh, “it doesn’t mean we don’t have a reason to be upset. We fought wars on their behalf.” He paused to tap his forehead meaningfully, while all his grief and trauma played out across a dead gaze. “And we still have to relive them right here. All those nightmares we still have. The friends, our family, who died. And they can’t be bothered to make safe places for us, free of monsters.”

In a smooth motion which hinted at the careless strength he carried, Percy was on his feet and pacing between one heartbeat and the next.

“You said without us they’d be nothing? Well good luck reminding them of that! Wanting us to do their chores they’re too lazy to do, while threatening us with death if we don’t, or aren’t ‘respectful’ enough! Or when we needed to work together against the Giants, they’d leave us to risk our lives doing all the work, and then they’d swoop in at the last moment to claim the victory and all the credit!”

The man was yelling at this point, and Annabeth was nodding in agreement, anger shining in her eyes, even as her eyes sparkled with unshed tears of shared pain and sorrow.

Remembering he had an audience, Percy whirled back around to face Diana with a challenging look.

“Another thing about this world is that you’re also free now to vent to someone you can actually share all that with too,” she observed, doing as much as she could to project her genuine empathy, compassion, and sorrow on his behalf. “You all deserved better.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, before he gave a choppy nod before looking away, fiddling even more with his necklace.

Giving Percy the chance to compose himself a bit more, Diana turned to Annabeth, and asked, “I imagine it’s about the same for you?”

“No,” said Annabeth quietly, and the hair’s stood up on the Amazonian’s neck. In that instant, she was reminded once again how relieved she was not to be this young woman’s enemy.

“No,” she repeated before elaborating, “I knew for years who my mom was. Ever since I was seven, after being forced to run away from home because of my supernatural heritage, from her enemies hunting me, leaving me living on the streets. Eventually I found two other demigods, one of whom, Thalia, I spent years believing had died getting us to safety. After feeling I had lost my dad’s love, I spent five years afterwards trying to prove to my mom that I was worthy of her attention. Her affection. Her acknowledgment. All the while my other friend, Luke, became consumed by his hatred of the gods and turned to leading the rebellion against them. Because in the end he figured serving with the Crooked One, the Titan infamous for eating his own children, was the lesser evil.”

Diana made a mental note to ask more about Luke and Thalia later. Doubtless their tales would be riveting and educational.

Also to see if Annabeth might benefit from helping other homeless kids. Because seven years old!? It was a miracle this girl had lived as long as she had, never mind monsters or divine wars! No, wait! She would have been hunted on the streets by monsters at age seven!

That was enough to break her already strained composure, and drink down the rest of her wine and pour herself another glass.

“In the end, we learnt that she was the driving force behind countless civil wars between Greek and Roman demigods. All because of her pride. She sent me on a quest to solve the conflict, but one that had been killing the best of her children for centuries. All of which ended up with the two of us in the Pit.

“And they knew,” she hissed with dark fury, tears running down her face. “Enough of the gods hinted they knew it would lead us there, knew where we would have to travel. And yes! That was the only way to free the Doors of Death—”

A very ominous term right there.

“—but they still sent us in there unprepared! To a land where the very air and ground tried to kill us! All of our worst enemies together! And—!”

In a blur Percy was at his wife’s side, arms wrapped around her shoulders while she melted into his embrace. Whatever state she had been working herself into slowly drained away.

A part of Diana was tempted to come over and offer her own physical support, but ultimately she concluded that would end with her being stabbed. Maybe even unintentionally.

After about ten minutes of silence, Annabeth was finally settled enough to continue.

“Afterwards . . . Afterwards, she never said anything about it. Refused to acknowledge what had happened. Never apologising or conceding she had ever done anything wrong. Because she has to be perfect.

“Oh, she did know our relationship was, well, ‘damaged’ is what she would’ve probably called it. Doing what she could to try and fix it. Like helping Percy when he was getting his godly recommendations so we could go to college.”

“What?” blinked Diana in confusion.

“Part of my ‘debt’,” said Percy with heavy sarcasm. “For living. I needed three godly recommendations to make up for my dad giving birth to me if I wanted to go to New Rome University.”

“So she gave you one of those recommendations?” clarified Diana, deciding not to touch the rest of that statement.

“Oh, no. She just kept her dad from finding me sneaking his chalice back to . . . the god of youth, and killing us both. The god of youth is the one who gave me the letter.”

Ganymede, Diana mentally filled in, and added that to her list of questions for later during a less emotional day.

“It was nice that she was finally accepting how serious I was about Percy,” admitted Annabeth, choking a little on her words.

Privately, Diana may have been reading too much into it, but she suspected this alternate version of her father, and most of the rest of the Olympians, had been too well aware of how dangerous this pair was. Had feared what they might become. Except they had enough godly support, and principally amongst the demigods themselves, to make overt actions against them too dangerous or costly. So they had resorted to jerking Percy and Annabeth around just enough to assert they were in charge, while never enough to drive them to open rebellion.

Regardless, it was not hard to imagine why these two might have so much unresolved trauma revolving around the gods that they would instinctively leap away from becoming ones themselves. Practically Pavlovian really.

“. . . And the other reason?” Diana finally asked.

“Huh?” went Percy.

“You said there was another reason why you didn’t want to become gods. What was the other one?”

“We touched on it a little. My dear Seaweed Brain,” and here Annabeth gave a tender stroke of his cheek which he melted into, “instinctively understood the greatest flaw of the gods.”

“Oh?” said Diana, very curious, and very glad to see the two had managed to relax again.

“Growing old is better than the alternative,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

.

.

.

That made no sense.

“You mean dying?” asked Diana quizzically.

“That too,” agreed Percy Chase-Jackson. “But also that they don’t age. Not changing. Those problems I’ve mentioned? They’ve had centuries to work on them. They just don’t. Sure, they changed their clothes and modernized their lifestyles once in a while, but at heart they’re still exactly who they had been back in the Bronze Age.” 

“It’s the same for monsters too, and other immortals. They just don’t change at all, being the same as ever. That’s how we were able to beat so many of them in the same ways as the original heroes.

“But back to the gods, that includes those who were once mortal, as they remain stuck as who they were beforehand. For me, I want to live a whole life, you know? Even the tough stuff. While the gods are forced to deal with all the same things for eternity. 

“I want to grow wrinkly and frail with Annabeth, and still look at her loving her as much as ever. Sitting around a table with my friends, laughing about all the crazy things we’d done with our lives.”

Annabeth Jackson-Chase snuggled in deeper to her husband in silent agreement. “You’ve made your choice Diana, and you seem to have made it better than we’d have thought possible, but in the end our choice is to be mortal. With all the joys and sorrows which come with it.”

In that moment Diana knew she had lost their argument, and while her heart panged in anticipatory grief, she could not deny her pride at their decision.

No matter what lay on the horizon, including the chance of them changing their minds, regardless of what this beautiful world threw at them next, she would do her best to be one of those friends laughing with them in the days to come. And be thankful for that privilege.

“. . . Very well,” she said softly. Her smile was genuine, yet she still had to discreetly wipe a tear from her eye. Thankfully they did not comment on it.

A heavy silence fell once more until she said, “So how are you planning to do it? Become mortal once more?”

“It’s more a matter of timing,” admitted Annabeth. “Or I’d have already done so, or sworn something upon the River Styx. When this first happened, I wasn’t entirely sure of how to do so. Then we were superheroes, and people were looking up to us. So I’m looking towards a proper retirement of Manda the Mandalorian in a way which reassures people. Although I’ll probably still keep active as a vigilante.”

“Hero,” corrected Diana dryly.

“While keeping our personal lives separate from that extra career,” said Percy with a touch of wit to his otherwise serious look.

“I’d also like a better idea of what the situation is with Darkseid and Atlantis,” finished Annabeth. “Victor and Clark got details for the first, but we’re still in the dark—”

Percy gave a mature snort at “dark,” muttering about “posers” and “Darkseid.”

“—about them,” continued Annabeth while jabbing him in the side. “As for Atlantis, we’re still figuring things out with Mera. If there’s no immediate concerns there though, that’s when I’ll probably do it.”

“So easily?” marvelled Diana, as if shedding divinity was like removing a coat.

“More or less,” said Annabeth with a shrug which did not elaborate on anything. “I wasn’t born one like you, so that makes it easier. The main thing is making sure there’s no loose godliness floating around for anybody to abuse. Granted, it might be harder if I went public that I’m a goddess, since that sheer faith might be enough to keep me divine. As it is, just being a celebrity and someone people think is just a very strong mortal isn’t enough; my power will eventually dry up back to normal.”

She took another long drink of whiskey to enjoy being able to do so while she could.

“From your description,” mused Diana, “it may be that my . . . situation as a goddess is also a result of how it’s mostly my sister Amazons who know me as one. Who saw me grow up from a baby.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” conceded Percy.

“Yes, that’s most likely the case,” agreed Annabeth. “For them, you are capable of change because they believe you can. And they’re already immortal as is, but I’d guess they haven’t changed at all in turn over the centuries either, have they?”

A slow chill ran up and down Diana’s spine as she understood what Annabeth was getting at. Leaving her wondering how much of this conversation had been about leading her towards that warning. Because yes, her mother and sisters had remained largely the same since the Bronze Age, while their daughter and sister who had left had continued to grow and adapt and embrace the wonders of this world . . .

Certainly something to mull over for herself later in private.

Focusing back to the present, she caught the pointed, knowing look in Annabeth’s eyes, which confirmed she had been outplayed.

Rather than outrage, the Amazonian felt merely rueful amusement.

“Now!” said Percy, clapping his hands even with his arms still wrapped around his wife. “How about a more lighthearted story! Mostly lighthearted. Still relevant though.”

“That does sound like a nice diversion,” smiled Diana, embracing the shift in topics whilst she poured herself more wine. “What’s it about? One of your adventures?”

“Not directly. Allow me to tell you about a god who did change, in the Trials of Apollo . . .”

-X/\X/\X-

Central City

Iron Heights Penitentiary

Beaming with a grin practically splitting his face, Barry ignored the sad resignation on his dad’s face as he entered the visiting room. The disappointment that his son was ‘wasting his time’ coming to visit him in prison. Already planning on trying again to convince Barry that he could be doing so much more with his life.

So before Henry Allen could sit down, Barry was up on his feet, and slapped the piece of paper over the window-divider between them.

Eying it closely, the man grabbed the phone as he sat down, and brusquely said, “What?”

“It’s actually the worst job you can get in a crime lab,” said Barry happily into the vistor’s phone, leaning against the window. “But, uh, my foot’s in the door.”

Pointing his finger at the paper like he could not believe it was real, Henry said, “This is like a ‘job’ job?”

“‘Job’ job,” confirmed Barry. In fact, he had been at it for a little while now. He had wanted to prove to the people there that he deserved it, to himself that he was going to keep it, before coming to celebrate with his dad.

A slow smile stretched across Henry’s face, erasing years of stress and bitterness, and he started laughing with joy. Throughout his good cheer he managed to say, “Your foot’s in the door.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment at his dad’s pride, Barry said, “Is that a thing people say?”

Slapping the tabletop now as he laughed harder, Henry said louder, “Your foot’s in the door. Yeah, that’s something people say, man.” Turning around, he yelled to the other prisoners and the guards, “His foot’s in the door!”

Cheering met his words, and Henry kept going. “That’s my boy, right there!”

“Oh, gosh,” said Barry, loving this. “Oh, gosh.”

“Taught him nothing he knows! Yes!”

“Dad, you’re gonna get maced again.”

The warning helped settle the man down, and he firmly said, “No stopping you now.”

Softly chuckling, Barry said, “Thanks, Dad.”

Glancing behind his son, Henry said, “And who might you be?”

“Victor.” Stepping forward beside his friend, still under holographic disguise to hide his metal parts, the cyborg said, “Nice to meet you. You’ve got a good son here.”

“Yes. Yes I do,” agreed Henry a tad warily but overall optimistic. “Glad to see Barry meeting someone new. How’d that happen?”

“Crazy coincidences, and surprisingly similar interests,” said Barry cheerfully, doing his best to project reassurance. “He’s also been helping me with some stuff.”

Holding up a computer tablet, Victor tapped a screen to show the inside of a familiar grocery which made his dad visibly catch his breath. “We cleared up the security footage, but we can’t use it for your alibi as your hat—” because there was Henry Allen on that painful night so many years ago— “covers your face. We’re investigating other avenues though.”

Before the prisoner could protest, Victor leaned forward to firmly say, “Don’t think of it as me doing it for you. I’m doing it because your son’s a good friend, and more importantly, a good man. He’s one of the best, and he deserves to have his father back.”

“I—thank you,” said Henry hoarsely.

“So,” Barry said, quickly switching topics. “I gotta tell you what I’m up to exactly at work!”

-X\/X\/X-

Gotham City

Bat Cave

Scowling, Bruce looked over the latest email from Annabeth’s thoughts on Henry Allen.

He had the man’s profile memorised by this point, and he had to admit that even from an objective perspective he was skeptical that the man was responsible for killing his wife. The main evidence against him was the perceived opportunity. No prior history to support the act for one, and a model prisoner by all accounts except when he got overly-emotional when his son visited. Something which was understandable enough, and certainly no history of violence towards other inmates.

Unfortunately, without fresh evidence, managing this the legal way was looking increasingly difficult.

Still, best to first exhaust those avenues. It would be rather problematic if they . . . removed him from a maximum security prison, only to then stumble upon air-tight evidence to exonerate him.

-X/\X/\X-

Themyscira

In stoic silence, the Amazons Timandra and Egeria patrolled the clifftops overshadowing the shore of their homeland.

When their duty was over, they would return to have a drink and relax together. For now however, the lessons from the German invasion remained fresh even decades later, and especially with the ongoing tension of Steppenwolf’s raid and stealing of the Mother Box.

They could only pray that Princess Diana had received their warning, and had stopped the threat to this world.

Rounding a bend, as one they dropped flat against the rocky surface before their minds had caught up. Crawling forward, they peered over the edge to see a distinctively male figure standing upon the beach. A large black chest before him.

Their honed instincts also screamed that he was staring right up at them.

With a wave of his arm towards them, he then turned around and walked right back into the water.

“Atlantean,” hissed Timandra.

Egeria was already pulling out her horn to summon the rest of their sisters.

-X\/X\/X-

Four dozen Amazons surrounded the strange, black box which had been left upon their shore.

Even more were upon the cliffs looking down in the likely event it was some sort of trick. Meanwhile, the rest of their nation was at war status watching the rest of the coast.

Queen Hippolyta had initially insisted upon confronting and opening the box herself, but General Menalippe had successfully convinced (begged) their beloved monarch that they could not afford to lose her. Especially not in the face of a likely Atlantean invasion.

As the ones who had made the discovery, Egeria and Timandra had successfully lobbied that they should be the ones to take the risk. Slowly and cautiously they approached, noting how it appeared to already be unlatched.

Carefully Egeria extended her spear so the blade could pry the lid up, while Timandra held hers overhead, ready to stab it if necessary.

In one sudden movement Egeria flipped it open to reveal—

They both paused. Frozen in disbelief.

Gently Egeria prodded her spear into the box, and behind them their sisters craned their heads around in the faint hope of a better angle to see what was happening.

Finally, a befuddled Egeria lowered her weapon, and closed the remaining distance to shove her hand inside to study the contents.

Seeing nothing of immediate concern, Timandra turned around and yelled, “They’re letters! Addressed to each of us, written in Princess Diana’s hand!”

Cries of disbelief swept across the beach, accusations, denials, retractions, exclamations, and more.

All to fall silent as Queen Hippolyta strode through their ranks with a sense of inevitability.

Without an ounce of hesitation, she looked inside the box, and snatched out two letters on the top.

The first was addressed “#1 Queen Hippolyta,” while the other was “#2 Mother.”

Such a dutiful girl the princess was.

Ignoring the formal note, Hippolyta tore upon the thick envelope for her daughter’s personal letter, and drank in every word about what she had been up to.

Around her, more and more of the Amazons poured in, each seeking their own one from their beloved Diana.

As anticipated, each and every one of them had received a letter several pages long, written with love and care for her absent family. 

-X/\X/\X-

Great Basin Desert

“So why are we here again?” asked Flash, in his superhero get-up.

“Training,” said Wonder Woman brightly.

“With no one around us,” said Cyborg, peering around the empty terrain.

“No one to see what we’re doing, or get hurt while we stretch ourselves to our limits.”

“Wait,” said Barry, awkwardly raising his hand. “You’re saying you can get more awesome?”

“Well,” said Diana, starting to stretch out her arms. “During one of my talks with Annabeth and Percy, the matter came up about how my brother Ares, was able to shoot lightning as his most powerful ability. Not something he should’ve been able to do, but as our father was the god of lightning, and dead so unable to claim his domain, he might’ve been able to tap into that. So I started wondering if I could do the same. Or who knows what else.” Frowning a little, she admitted, “I fear I’ve become complacent in my powers.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” said Flash, already visualising her shooting forks of lightning from her fingers. “And I guess that Victor can practice making bigger guns. But . . . why am I here?”

“Because,” said Cyborg with a slowly growing, dangerous grin, “I’d mentioned to her yesterday that I was wondering about you using your speed for molecular vibration.”

The Fastest Man Alive stared at him blankly, before lighting up like it was Christmas.

-X\/X\/X-

Gotham City

Justice League Headquarters

In the refurbished meeting room, the six heroes sat around a modest yet stately table.

“Okay, then that sounds good,” concluded Batman, sorting his notes. “In summary, the Justice League will keep one percent of the profits for all merchandise related to us, which will be used to fund our various expenses. Wayne Enterprises will make a public offer to handle said merchandising, including handling trademarks, licensing, and character rights as a gesture of thanks. The rest will be given to charities and relief efforts approved by ourselves at a later date.”

Murmurs of agreement went around the table, with praise directed towards Annabeth for suggesting how they should take a lead in the matter. Better than some rando making cheap products of them, and keeping the profits for themselves. 

Sitting between Diana and her husband, she allowed herself a proud smile.

“So that’s everything then?” asked Percy, clearly antsy to get out of the meeting. “I motion to adjourn, and I’ve got Mera’s vote too.”

Mentioning her name drew their gazes to the empty seat between him and Flash.

“Well that sounds unfair,” pouted Flash. “Wait. Motion to adjourn to and get to Alfred’s cooking!”

“Agreed,” chuckled Cyborg on Flash’s left.

“Sounds fine to me,” agreed Superman, already standing up from beside Cyborg, with Batman the last between him and Wonder Woman.

Also standing up, Wonder Woman led the way to the change rooms for the group. Well, most of them at least.

For Cyborg, the transition to Victor was basically putting on a hoodie and pants.

Percy and Annabeth had been in civilian wear the whole time, yet Annabeth visibly took a mental step back as she shifted gears to something more relaxed.

“So, Bruce,” said Victor, voice easily carrying through the individual, private change rooms. “While I agree you shouldn’t be paying for everything here, I’ve been thinking about how you could be making a more proper use of your money?”

“Oh?” called back the billionaire. “And what’s that?”

“Buying up HBO for a proper ending to Game of Thrones.”

Chuckles rang throughout the area, while they all ignored how Victor could totally abuse his powers to do that himself. Or how Bruce was still busy rebuilding a city.

“Well I could,” said Bruce, “but ‘Brucie Wayne’ doesn’t do that anymore.”

“Then how about Disney then?” Annabeth ‘helpfully’ suggested. “Especially to get them to stop with the whole Star Wars issue.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure!” agreed Percy emphatically. “Is it true they’re threatening to use our costumes as an excuse to own the movie rights about us.”

At that, shirt half-buttoned up, Bruce opened his door to give Percy a dead-look which was only half theatrical. “You knew darn well what you were getting into when you insisted on dressing up as a cosplayer and pretending you were serious. You bring the Mouse and his legal team down on us, you can handle it without me and my lawyers. That is not a fight I want to risk.”   

Diana popped out of her own changing room, resplendent and ready to go, with an unnerving gleam to her eyes which made everyone else want to take a step backwards. “If you buy up Disney, I get the rights to Hercules.”

“. . . Sure,” promised Bruce, because he liked life.

-X/\X/\X-

Wayne Manor

Everyone found themselves seated around another table, except this was a far more inviting one.

Alfred had laid out a veritable feast, and, at the insistence of everyone else, had joined them.

Lois was there too, cozying up to Clark, and enjoying being with their friends. “This is nice,” she said.

“Amazing,” said Barry earnestly.

“We’ve been hanging out,” said Percy, “but yeah, usually just a few of us at a time.”

“Usually with you two,” added Victor.

“We should do this more often,” said Diana firmly, which everyone agreed to.

The night stretched on as they traded stories with one another. After Barry, Percy, and Clark finished swapping stories about hijinks by their co-workers, their resident female reporter threw in her own observation.

“So this is how it is with hero get-togethers,” chuckled Lois lightly and not unkindly. “Quiet dinner, and then, what? Sitting around sharing bottles of beer and gossip?”

“Well,” went Flash, “I can’t get drunk because of my metabolism, so no point.”

“Same,” said Diana. “I like wine, but it’s too weak here compared to back home. In Themyscira, you’d have to keep it sealed up, and nobody dared bring a spark of flame within a dozen meters.”

“I can eat, but no real liver left, or the right parts of my brain,” said Victor, although without the bitterness he would have shown mere weeks ago. Now it was just matter-of-fact.

“I’ve had so much alcohol over the years at parties,” said Bruce, “I’d need a least a dozen before I even started feeling a buzz.”

“. . . You told a joke!” gasped Percy, eliciting shocked gasps from the rest.

“Treasure it,” deadpanned Bruce. “It’ll be my last.”

“As much as I like drinking freely,” said Annabeth, “I don’t want to make a habit of it for when I’m back to fearing killing off my brain cells.”

“Alcohol doesn’t affect me like it does for Humans,” confessed Clark.

“I swore off drinking because of my abusive first step-dad,” said Percy.

“. . . Well this is off to a great start,” said Barry flatly.

A beat.

Then they all started laughing in good cheer at the sheer absurdity that was their lives.

-X\/X\/X-

Kingdom of Atlantis

King Orm stared at his screen, and made a few notes to follow up on, and then looked up at his vizier who had been patiently waiting despite sensing his arrival minutes ago. He knew some assumed it was a power play on his part to keep others waiting, yet he knew Vulko was aware it was just that he hated to be disturbed while chasing a thought. “Yes?”

“Your Majesty,” said Vulko, handing over a datapad. “The full results of Princess Mera’s investigations into our security protocols. As well as a copy of what she sent to Xebel. Usually I’d consider what she shared to be a breach of protocol,” espionage, “except it’s obvious we are also fixing these deficiencies. To say nothing of the risk if any of the other Kingdoms, or worse the Surface, should learn how to take advantage of the methods we and Xebel are currently using.”

“Yes,” repeated King Orm, but this time he allowed himself a scowl as he accepted the report. While initially skeptical at the necessity of what she was insisting upon, he had been appalled to realize how readily practically anyone could assume command over the controls of even his personal flagship. Any Surface Dweller could practically march aboard and start manipulating the controls, and while he doubted they could really figure out something so complicated, their primitive minds could still stumble upon far too much.

To say nothing of the other oversights she had rapidly uncovered. A part of him had been genuinely tempted to imprison the supposed heads of internal security. Thankfully for their sakes however, their years of loyal service warranted consideration, and he could tell their horror was born more from being afraid for their country rather than their own necks. Instead he had temporarily demoted them, and put Mera in charge; providing a touch of shame which would serve for now. Anything further he would consider later.

Regardless, something like this was further proof of how admirably capable his betrothed was.

“Hmm,” he said, reading it over. “Scanners for Atlantean bio-signatures, with an emphasis on beating hearts for now, with later scanners to detect for living tissue so no one can use corpses. Obvious in hindsight.” He stopped to muse over one potential risk listed. “A pity there’s no way to detect if they’re being coerced, not without locking out the wounded from the systems.”

“Precisely,” said Vulko. “Although there is talk of how in addition to memorised passwords, having fingerprint analysis on the touch-screens keyboards, so only authorized personnel can use them at any time. Page three.”

“Ah, yes. Keep me updated on this.”

“Of course.”

“Alright, I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve a dozen more tasks to perform.”

With another precise bow, Vulko left. Even so, King Orm waited another five minutes, and did another sweep for any spy devices before he pulled up a video he had been watching shortly before being alerted of his vizier’s imminent arrival.

Upon the screen, two black clad figures battled Parademons by wielding water magic against them.

-X/\X/\X-

Bat Cave

After finishing their food, and washing the dishes while distracting Alfred, the party had moved downstairs to Bruce’s little lair.

Coming back from a pit-stop, the (supposed) head of the house looked about, and saw Alfred (actual head of the house) bringing some mugs of tea. A part of Bruce was tempted to tease the older man about wanting to make up for the others doing clean-up.

“New mugs, Alfred?” he said instead, wisely choosing a safer topic.

“Why yes, Master Bruce. Seemed appropriate now that we’re actually having guests down here.”

Looking around the cave, Bruce noted Victor and Annabeth giving Lois a little tour of their new Flying Fox II. The armoured jet transport had some shiny new bells and whistles they were quite proud of.

Clark and Diana were talking off to the side, making various gestures about something or other.

While Percy and Barry . . .

“What’re they looking up on the Batcomputer?” asked Bruce.

“Oh, they were curious about some other, past phenomenon,” answered Alfred. “All those little mysteries and events. Previous powered incidents. That sort of thing.”

Giving a little hum of acknowledgement, Bruce made his way over to Diana and Clark to see what they were chatting about.

Halfway there, it occurred to him that Alfred’s list of events would include what had happened in Midway City.

Sure enough, as he spun around to look at them, he saw Amanda Waller’s little ‘project’ being pulled up on the screen.

Percy’s outraged roar shook through the whole cave.

“THEY DID WHAT WITH MY TAX DOLLARS!?”